and disconnected ideas. He was haunted by Florence's
image and by Marie Fauville's as well.

"It's to-night that I'm to save them," he said to himself. "And I
certainly will save them, as they are not guilty and as I know the real
criminal. But how shall I set about it to succeed?"

He thought of the Prefect of Police, of the meeting that was to take
place at Fauville's house on the Boulevard Suchet. The meeting had begun.
The police were watching the house. And this reminded him of the sheet of
paper found by Weber in the eighth volume of Shakespeare's plays, and of
the sentence written on it, which the Prefect had read out:

"Bear in mind that the explosion is independent of the letters, and that
it will take place at three o'clock in the morning."

"Yes," thought Don Luis, accepting M. Desmalions's reasoning, "yes, in
ten days' time. As there have been only three letters, the fourth will
appear to-night; and the explosion will not take place until the fifth
letter appears--that is in ten days from now."

He repeated:

"In ten days--with the fifth letter--in ten days--"

And suddenly he gave a start of fright. A horrible vision had flashed
across his mind, a vision only too real. The explosion was to occur that
very night! And all at once, knowing that he knew the truth, all at
once, in a revival of his usual clear-sightedness, he accepted the
theory as certain.

No doubt only three letters had appeared out of the mysterious darkness,
but four letters ought to have appeared, because one of them had appeared
not on the date fixed, but ten days later; and this for a reason which
Don Luis knew. Besides, it was not a question of all this. It was not a
question of seeking the truth amid this confusion of dates and letters,
amid this intricate tangle in which no one could lay claim to any
certainty,

No; one thing alone stood out above the situation: the sentence, "Bear in
mind that the explosion is independent of the letters." And, as the
explosion was put down for the night of the twenty-fifth of May, it would
occur that very night, at three o'clock in the morning!

"Help! Help!" he cried.

This time he did not hesitate. So far, he had had the courage to remain
huddled in his prison and to wait for the miracle that might come to his
assistance; but he preferred to face every danger and undergo every
penalty rather than abandon the Prefect of Police, Weber, Mazeroux, and
their companions to the death that thre