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"Monsieur le Préfet, when I removed the chandelier from the plaster that supported it, I found, outside the upper surface of the metal box, a sealed envelope. As the chandelier was placed under the attic occupied by M. Fauville's son, it is evident that M. Fauville was able, by lifting the boards of the floor in his son's room, to reach the top of the machine which he had contrived.
I defy any one to prove that I have read a newspaper for months and months past. And that is why I am entitled to say that I did not know of Hippolyte Fauville's murder." "Still, you knew M. Fauville." "I used to know him, but we quarrelled." "For what reason?" "Family affairs." "Family affairs! Were you related, then?" "Yes. Hippolyte was my cousin." "Your cousin! M. Fauville was your cousin!
M. Desmalions's silence gave Don Luis leave to speak. He at once continued: "It will not take long, Monsieur le Préfet. It will not take long for two reasons: first, because M. Fauville's confessions remain at our disposal and we know definitely the monstrous part which he played; and, secondly, because, after all, the truth, however complicated it may seem, is really very simple.
It can't be correct, and we can't believe in Marie Fauville's innocence unless we are prepared to suppose an unheard-of thing, that M. Fauville took part in his own murder. Why, it's laughable!" And he gave a laugh; but it was a forced laugh and did not ring true. "For, after all," he added, "you can't deny that that is where we stand." "I don't deny it." "Well?"
Now the end of the Avenue Henri Martin was within five minutes' walk of the Fauvilles' house. The man was brought into Mme. Fauville's presence and recognized her at once. What had she done in that neighbourhood for over an hour? Marie Fauville was taken to the central lockup, was entered on the register, and slept, that night, at the Saint-Lazare prison.
The teeth of the tiger! Everybody had clung stubbornly to an apparently invincible argument. As the marks on the apple and the print of Mme. Fauville's teeth were identical, and as no two persons in the world were able, in theory or practice, to produce the same print with their teeth, Mme. Fauville must needs be guilty. Nay, more, the argument seemed so absolute that, from the day on which Mme.
"In this way and with a single effort, anonymously, so to speak, and without appearing in the business, without Fauville's even suspecting the action brought to bear upon him, Jean Vernocq procured the deaths of Fauville and his son, and got rid of Marie and Sauverand by the devilish expedient of causing the charge of murder, of which no one could accuse him, to fall upon them.
Then he went on: "I accuse him of conveying to Gaston Sauverand, by some unknown means, the newspaper cuttings about Marie Fauville's death and, at the same time, foreseeing the inevitable results of his act.
"One thing, therefore, is certain: the inheritance in no way affected Hippolyte Fauville's resolves or actions.
Was it admissible that the dead man's revenge should still continue in the same automatic and anonymous manner? Or rather or rather, was there not some other mysterious will which was secretly and as audaciously carrying on Hippolyte Fauville's diabolical work? Two days later came a fresh sensation: Gaston Sauverand was found dying in his cell.
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