.

"Sure of it? It is simply child's play. It is mere waiting. If, for
instance, at the trial Mrs. Brenton is found guilty, and sentenced, the
one who is the guilty party is certain to betray himself or herself
as soon as he or she is alone. If it be a man who hopes to marry Mrs.
Brenton, he will be overcome with grief at what has happened. He will
wring his hands and try to think what can be done to prevent the
sentence being carried out. He will argue with himself whether it is
better to give himself up and tell the truth, and if he is a coward he
will conclude not to do that, but will try to get a pardon, or at least
have the capital sentence commuted into life imprisonment. He will
possibly be cool and calm in public, but when he enters his own room,
when his door is locked, when he believes no one can see him, when he
thinks he is alone, then will come his trial. Then his passions and
his emotions will betray him. It is mere child's play, as I tell you,
and long before there is a verdict I will give you the name of the
murderer."

"Very well, then," said Speed, "that is agreed; we will look you up in a
week from now."

"I should be pained," said Lecocq, "to put you to that trouble. As soon
as I get the report from my men I will communicate with you and let
you know the result. In a few days I shall give you the name of the
assassin."

"Good-bye, then, until I see you again," answered Speed; and with this
he and Brenton took their departure.

"He seems to be very sure of himself," said Brenton.

[Illustration: Jane Morton.]

"He will do what he says, you may depend on that."

The week was not yet up when Monsieur Lecocq met John Speed in Chicago.

"By the look of satisfaction on your face," said Mr. Speed, "I imagine
you have succeeded in unravelling the mystery."

"Ah," replied the Frenchman; "if I have the appearance of satisfaction,
it is indeed misplaced."

"Then you have not made any discovery?"

"On the contrary, it is all as plain as your big buildings here. It
is not for that reason, but because it is so simple that I should be
foolish to feel satisfaction regarding it."

"Then who is the person?"

"The assassin," replied the Frenchman, "is one whom no one has seemed to
think of, and yet one on whom suspicion should have been the first to
fall. The person who did Monsieur Brenton the honour to poison him is
none other than the servant girl, Jane Morton."

CHAPTER IX.

"Jane Mort