young lady's business. And, as it happened, they had discovered that
the photograph--you know, the photograph of Florence Levasseur which the
Prefect lent you--well, they have discovered that you faked it. And then
when I mentioned the name of Florence, the Prefect remembered that that
was the name."

"Have you the warrant?" Don Luis repeated, in a harsher tone.

"Well, you see, I couldn't help it.... M. Desmalions, the magistrate--"

If the Place du Palais Bourbon had been deserted at that moment, Don
Luis would certainly have relieved himself by a swinging blow
administered to Mazeroux's chin according to the most scientific rules
of the noble art. And Mazeroux foresaw this contingency, for he
prudently kept as far away as possible and, to appease the chief's
anger, intended a whole litany of excuses:

"It was for your good, Chief.... I had to do it ... Only think! You
yourself told me: 'Rid me of the creature!' said you. I'm too weak.
You'll arrest her, won't you? Her eyes burn into me--like poison! Well,
Chief, could I help it? No, I couldn't, could I? Especially as the
deputy chief--"

"Ah! So Weber knows?"

"Why, yes! The Prefect is a little suspicious of you since he understood
about the faking of the portrait. So M. Weber is coming back in an hour,
perhaps, with reinforcements. Well, I was saying, the deputy chief had
learnt that the woman who used to go to Gaston Sauverand's at
Neuilly--you know, the house on the Boulevard Richard-Wallace--was fair
and very good looking, and that her name was Florence. She even used to
stay the night sometimes."

"You lie! You lie!" hissed Perenna.

All his spite was reviving. He had been pursuing Florence with intentions
which it would have been difficult for him to put into words. And now
suddenly he again wanted to destroy her; and this time consciously. In
reality he no longer knew what he was doing. He was acting at haphazard,
tossed about in turns by the most diverse passions, a prey to that
inordinate love which impels us as readily to kill the object of our
affections as to die in an attempt to save her.

A newsboy passed with a special edition of the _Paris-Midi_, showing in
great black letters:

"SENSATIONAL DECLARATION BY DON LUIS PERENNA

"MME. FAUVILLE IS INNOCENT.

"IMMINENT ARREST OF THE TWO CRIMINALS"

"Yes, yes," he said aloud. "The drama is drawing to an end. Florence is
about to pay her debt to society. So much the worse for her."

He starte