etter hold my tongue."

"Speak out!" commanded de Loubersac.

"No," growled Juve-Vagualame.

"I order you to do so."

"Well, then," conceded Juve-Vagualame, "since you must know what I
think, I consider Nichoune was in no sense the mistress of Captain
Brocq."

"They found letters from Captain Brocq on her." De Loubersac's laugh
had a sneer in it.

"Bah!" said the old accordion player, punctuating his remark with some
piercing sounds from his ancient instrument of discordant music. "It
was a got-up business!"

"What is that you say?" objected de Loubersac. After a moment's
reflection he added:

"But of course, you must know more about it than anyone, Vagualame,
because you saw her just before the end. Didn't you have a talk with
Nichoune on the Friday, the eve of her death?"

Juve-Vagualame was about to speak. De Loubersac added:

"The innkeeper saw you!"

"Did he now? What is this?" thought Juve. This statement opened up a
fresh view of things.

De Loubersac did not give him time for reflection.

"Who, then, do you think killed Nichoune?"

Juve would not for the world voice his suspicions just then. With a
side-glance at the lieutenant, he remarked:

"Faith, what I am inclined to think is, that the guilty person is that
Aunt Palmyra."

"Aunt Palmyra!" repeated de Loubersac. "Decidedly my poor Vagualame,
you are stupid as an owl to-day! Well, there is no harm in telling you
this--Aunt Palmyra was one of my colleagues!"

"I suspected as much," thought Juve, "but I wanted him to confirm it."

De Loubersac was again the questioner.

"Vagualame! You spoke just now of Brocq's mistress: if, as you seem to
think, Nichoune had no such relation with the captain, where are we to
look for his mistress?"

"Hah!... Look in another direction ... among his friends ... in the
great world ... the diplomatic set, for preference ... Think of those
in the de Naarboveck circle."...

"Look out, Vagualame!" exclaimed de Loubersac. "Weigh your words
well!"

"Do not be afraid, lieu ... pardon--Monsieur Henri!"

"Perhaps you think it is Bobinette?" queried de Loubersac.

"No."

"Who then?"

Juve shot his answer at the lieutenant, like a stone from a catapult.

"Wilhelmine de Naarboveck!"

A shout of indignant protest burst from de Loubersac. He could not
contain his fury: he kicked the supposed Vagualame with such force
that he sent him rolling in the greasy mud of the Seine bank.

"Beast!" growled Juve, a