of my way!" exclaimed the doctor, brushing the old man aside as
easily as though the latter had been a child. With eager hands he took
the box, and going to the light, bent over it. As he saw the pearls, the
cross, his face lit up with delight. "This is it, Mayer. Just as the
valet described it." He gave the ring of pearls a swift turn, then
pressed immediately upon the larger one of the circle and slid the top
of the ivory cross to one side. Duvall, who was watching him with
interest, concluded that from some source, probably through Monsieur de
Grissac's dead servant, Dr. Hartmann had learned thoroughly the secret
of the box.

With a cry of satisfaction the latter drew out from the tiny recess the
slip of folded paper, glanced at the row of numbers written upon it,
then passed it over to Mayer. The latter nodded his head. "Now we are
all right," he muttered. "This is easily worth a million francs."

"Money doesn't measure its value, my friend," the doctor remarked,
gravely, as he replaced the slip of paper beneath the cross and put the
box carefully into his pocket.

During these few moments, Dufrenne had been observing the doctor with
bulging eyes. Suddenly he turned on the detective. "May the good God
curse you and your woman for this," he cried, hoarsely, "until the day
of your death. May He turn all men against you, and make your name a
despised and dishonored one forever. You have been false to your
duty--false to France. You are a traitor, a contemptible dog of a
traitor, and you deserve to die." His whole body shook with passion as
he poured the fury of his wrath upon the man before him.

Duvall sank weakly against the packing case behind him. Suffering, lack
of sleep and food, the burning pain in his eyes and brain, threatened to
overcome him. "Let me alone," he gasped. "I am so tired, so very tired!"
He almost fell as he uttered the words and indeed would have done so had
Grace not gone quickly up to him and passed her arm lovingly about his
shoulders. Turning to Dufrenne, she regarded him with a look of
defiance. "He is not guilty!" she cried. "It is I--I!--who have been
false. I made him do it--I made him do it. Go away, and tell the others
what you please. I know that my husband has done his best." She fell to
soothing him, kissing him upon his hot forehead, his burning cheeks.

Dufrenne looked at Dr. Hartmann, who was regarding the scene before him
with impatience. "Do I understand, monsieur," he ask