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Not a word was spoken during the few minutes for which Mazeroux was absent. Mme. Fauville seemed absorbed in her grief. M. Desmalions kept his eyes fixed on her. The sergeant returned, carrying a very large box containing a number of jewel-cases and loose ornaments.
This was how, during that last night, he placed this sealed envelope in position, after writing on it the date of the murder, '31 March, 11 P.M., and his signature, 'Hippolyte Fauville." M. Desmalions opened the envelope with an eager hand. His first glance at the pages of writing which it contained made him give a start. "Oh, the villain, the villain!" he said.
To sum up, therefore, without mentioning his share in the other crimes the death of Inspector Vérot, the death of my chauffeur I accuse him of killing Cosmo Mornington, Edmond Fauville, Hippolyte Fauville, Marie Fauville, and Gaston Sauverand; in plain words, of killing all those who stood between the millions and himself.
You should never betray your duty, Sergeant. Ask your own conscience: I am sure that it will judge you according to your deserts." Don Luis had spoken the truth. Recognizing how greatly the deaths of Marie Fauville and Sauverand had altered the situation, he considered it wise to move to a place of safety.
Knowing the terrible effects of the poison employed by the miscreants whom he was attacking, recalling the corpse of Inspector Vérot, the corpses of Hippolyte Fauville and his son, he knew that, trained though he was to resist comparatively large doses of poison, he could not have escaped the deadly action of this. It was a poison that did not forgive, that killed, surely and fatally.
M. Desmalions searched hurriedly among the letters which his secretary had handed him on his arrival and which lay on a corner of the table. "Ah, here we are!" he exclaimed, glancing at the signature of one of the letters. "Here we are! It's as I thought: 'Fauville. ... The first syllable is the same.... Look, 'Fauville, just like that, without Christian name or initials.
He had already risen from his chair and stood apologizing: "Monsieur le Préfet, I have disturbed you unnecessarily, but I wanted to know.... I was hoping that Inspector Vérot might have escaped.... His evidence, joined to mine, would have been invaluable. But perhaps he was able to tell you?" "No, he spoke of this evening of to-night " Hippolyte Fauville started. "This evening!
Monsieur le Préfet, I entreat you to have the same confidence in me as before. Have not all my promises been fulfilled? Have confidence, Monsieur le Préfet; cast aside your doubts. Remember how Marie Fauville and Gaston Sauverand were overwhelmed with charges, the most serious charges, and how they succumbed in spite of their innocence.
Who knows if that pair of demons are not capable, after killing Hippolyte and his son, of having plotted the ruin of Marie Fauville, the last obstacle that stood between them and the Mornington inheritance? Doesn't everything point to that conclusion? Didn't I find the list of dates in a book belonging to Florence? Don't the facts prove that the letters were communicated by Florence?...
If you don't deliver me I shall kill her as I killed Dolores or else they will kill me or Oh, I don't know all the ideas that are driving me wild ! "You see, there's another man," he explained. "There's Sauverand, whom she loves. Oh, the infamous pair! They have killed Fauville and the boy and old Langernault and those two in the barn and others besides: Cosmo Mornington, Vérot, and more still.
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