otives of the crimes imputed
to us. We loved each other."

"How do you explain the letters?"

"I can't explain them. We did not know of Fauville's jealousy. He kept it
to himself. And then, again, why did he suspect us? What can have put it
into his head that we meant to kill him? Where did his fears, his
nightmares, come from? It is a mystery. He wrote that he had letters of
ours in his possession: what letters?"

"And the marks of the teeth, those marks which were undoubtedly made by
Mme. Fauville?"

"I don't know. It is all incomprehensible."

"You don't know either what she can have done after leaving the opera
between twelve and two in the morning?"

"No. She was evidently lured into a trap. But how and by whom? And why
does she not say what she was doing? More mystery."

"You were seen that evening, the evening of the murders, at Auteuil
station. What were you doing there?"

"I was going to the Boulevard Suchet and I passed under Marie's windows.
Remember that it was a Wednesday. I came back on the following Wednesday,
and, still knowing nothing of the tragedy or of Marie's arrest, I came
back again on the second Wednesday, which was the evening on which you
found out where I lived and informed Sergeant Mazeroux against me."

"Another thing. Did you know of the Mornington inheritance?"

"No, nor Florence either; and we have every reason to think that Marie
and her husband knew no more about it than we did."

"That barn at Damigni: was it the first time that you had entered it?"

"Yes; and our astonishment at the sight of the two skeletons hanging from
the rafters equalled yours."

Don Luis was silent. He cast about for a few seconds longer to see if he
had any more questions to ask. Then he said:

"That is all I wanted to know. Are you, on your side, certain that
everything that is necessary has been said?"

"Yes."

"This is a serious moment. It is possible that we may not meet again. Now
you have not given me a single proof of your statements."

"I have told you the truth. To a man like yourself, the truth is enough.
As for me, I am beaten. I give up the struggle, or, rather, I place
myself under your orders. Save Marie."

"I will save the three of you," said Perenna. "The fourth of the
mysterious letters is to make its appearance to-morrow: that leaves ample
time for us to lay our heads together and study the matter fully. And
to-morrow evening I shall go there and, with the help of all tha