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Was he not obliged to put Florence to sleep in order to prevent her from recognizing the landscape at Alençon and Damigni, or the Old Castle, which she had explored with Gaston Sauverand? On the other hand, the Le Mans-Angers-Nantes route, which had been taken to put the police on a false track, meant only an extra hour or two, at most, for any one motoring to Alençon.
Sablé ... Sillé-le-Guillaume.... The earth sped beneath them. The trees and houses glided by like shadows. And then Alençon. It was hardly more than a quarter to two when they landed in a meadow between the town and Damigni. Don Luis made inquiries. A number of motor cars had passed along the road to Damigni, including a small limousine driven by a gentleman who had turned down a crossroad.
He got to know the Dedessuslamare couple, robbed them of their money and, before they had time to lodge a complaint against the unknown thief, took them to a barn in the village of Damigni, where, in their despair, stupefied and besotted with drugs, they hanged themselves.
We sought for a clue, a glimmer of light in the darkness.... Well, yesterday morning, Florence saw Sergeant Mazeroux arrive. She could not overhear what he said to you, but she caught the name of a certain Langernault and the name of Damigni, the village where Langernault lived. She remembered that old friend of Hippolyte Fauville's.
Were the letters not addressed to him and was it not in search of him that you were going off in the motor with Sergeant Mazeroux?... "Half an hour later we were in the train for Alençon. A carriage took us from the station to just outside Damigni, where we made our inquiries with every possible precaution.
"No, nor Florence either; and we have every reason to think that Marie and her husband knew no more about it than we did." "That barn at Damigni: was it the first time that you had entered it?" "Yes; and our astonishment at the sight of the two skeletons hanging from the rafters equalled yours." Don Luis was silent. He cast about for a few seconds longer to see if he had any more questions to ask.
Besides, Damigni had its own post-office, though the presumption was that M. Langernault had his letters addressed poste restante at Alençon. Don Luis and Mazeroux went on to the village of Damigni. Here again the postmaster knew no one of the name of Langernault; and this in spite of the fact that Damigni contained only about a thousand inhabitants.
Davanne was ready. Don Luis climbed into the monoplane. The peasants pushed at the wheels. The machine started. "North-northeast," Don Luis ordered. "Ninety miles an hour. Ten thousand francs." "We've the wind against us," said Davanne. "Five thousand francs extra for the wind," shouted Don Luis. He admitted no obstacle in his haste to reach Damigni.
"Oh, the loathsome creature!" he muttered, with a shudder. "How can she have so fair a face, and eyes of such haunting beauty, so grave, sincere, and almost guileless?" In the church square, outside the inn, Mazeroux, who had returned, was filling the petrol tank of the motor and lighting the lamps. Don Luis saw the mayor of Damigni crossing the square. He took him aside.
"Where does this Langernault live?" "According to Mme. Fauville, at the village of Damigni, in the Orme." "Have they deciphered the word Damigni on one of the letters?" "No, but they have the name of the nearest town." "What town is that?" "Alençon." "And is that where you're going?" "Yes, the Prefect of Police told me to go straightaway. I shall take the train at the Invalides."
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