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To frame, instantly, the two elements of the problem an arrest and an acquittal; to make use of the formidable machinery of the law to crush and humble my victim, and reduce him to a condition in which, when free, he would be certain to fall into the trap I was laying for him!" "Poor devil " "Poor devil, do you say? Victor Danegre, the assassin!
Now, Danegre, three weeks before the murder, you abstracted the cook's key to the servants' door, and had a duplicate key made by a locksmith named Outard, 244 rue Oberkampf." "It's a lie it's a lie!" growled Victor. "No person has seen that key. There is no such key." "Here it is."
After a silence, Grimaudan continued: "You killed the countess with a knife purchased by you at the Bazar de la Republique on the same day as you ordered the duplicate key. It has a triangular blade with a groove running from end to end." "That is all nonsense. You are simply guessing at something you don't know. No one ever saw the knife." "Here it is." Victor Danegre recoiled.
He might have descended to the lowest depths of vice and crime, if he had retained the black pearl. Now, he lives! Think of that: Victor Danegre is alive!" "And you have the black pearl."
In addition, a cloth-covered button was missing from that garment, and this button was found beneath the bed of the victim. "It is supposed that, after dinner, in place of going to his own room, Danegre slipped into the wardrobe-closet, and, through the glass door, had seen the countess hide the precious black pearl. This is simply a theory, as yet unverified by any evidence.
After he had finished his soup, he turned his eyes on Danegre, and gazed at him intently. Danegre winced. He was certain that this was one of the men who had been following him for several weeks. What did he want? Danegre tried to rise, but failed. His limbs refused to support him. The man poured himself a glass of wine, and then filled Danegre's glass.
"Well, I will inform you in a few words. I am sent by Mademoiselle de Sincleves, the heiress of the Countess d'Andillot." "What for?" "To recover the black pearl." "Black pearl?" "That you stole." "But I haven't got it." "You have it." "If I had, then I would be the assassin." "You are the assassin." Danegre showed a forced smile.
"Here it is," said Danegre, in a dull voice. They passed along the garden wall of the countess' house, and crossed a street on a corner of which stood the tobacco-shop. A few steps further on, Danegre stopped; his limbs shook beneath him, and he sank to a bench. "Well! what now?" demanded his companion. "It is there." "Where? Come, now, no nonsense!" "There in front of us." "Where?"
Victor Danegre was livid; great drops of perspiration rolled down his face and fell upon the table. He gazed, with a wild look, at the strange man who had narrated the story of his crime as faithfully as if he had been an invisible witness to it. Overcome and powerless, Victor bowed his head. He felt that it was useless to struggle against this marvelous man.
Two days later, the newspapers published the following item: "Information has reached us of the arrest of Victor Danegre, the servant of the Countess d'Andillot. The evidence against him is clear and convincing. On the silken sleeve of his liveried waistcoat, which chief detective Dudouis found in his garret between the mattresses of his bed, several spots of blood were discovered.