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Updated: June 14, 2025
As he spoke there appeared the fake photograph that Coquenil had found in Brussels, Alice at the age of twelve with the smooth young widow. The prisoner shook his head. "I don't know them I never saw them." "Groener," warned the magistrate, "there is no use keeping up this denial, you have betrayed yourself already."
The obelisk and the fountain, the Tuileries gardens, the arches of the Rue de Rivoli, and the Madeleine, there at the end of the Rue Royale. Come, what is it?" "The Place de la Concorde," answered Groener sullenly. "Of course. You see how simple it is. Now another."
"Napoleon Bonaparte." "And this?" "Prince Bismarck." "And this?" "Queen Victoria." Here, suddenly, at the view of England's peaceful sovereign, Groener seemed thrown into frightful agitation, not Groener as he sat on the chair, cold and self-contained, but Groener as revealed by the unsuspected dial.
"If you're not Groener now," said Coquenil, surveying his work with a satisfied smile, "I'll swear you're his twin brother. It's the best disguise I ever saw, I'll take my hat off to you on that." "Extraordinary!" murmured the judge. "Groener, do you still deny that this disguise belongs to you?" "I do." "You've never worn it before?" "Never." "And you're not Adolf Groener?" "Certainly not."
In vain the poor girl protested against this breach of hospitality. Mother Bonneton held her ground grimly, declaring that she had a duty to perform and would perform it. "What duty?" asked the American. "A duty to M. Groener." At this name Alice started apprehensively.
Groener heard and, with a long sigh, sank back against the chair and closed his eyes, but Coquenil noticed uneasily that just a flicker of the old patronizing smile was playing about his pallid lips. In accordance with orders, Papa Tignol appeared at the Villa Montmorency betimes the next morning.
And then, M. Adolf Groener, we shall know whether it is a, marquis or a duke whose name must be added to the list of distinguished assassins." He paused for a reply, but none came. The guard moved suddenly in the shadows and called for help. "Lights!" said the doctor sharply and, as the lamps shone out, the prisoner was seen limp and white, sprawling over a chair.
"Adolf Groener." "You are sure?" "Of course, he is my cousin." "How long have you known him?" "Why I I've always known him." Quick as a flash the prisoner pulled off his wig and false beard. "Am I your cousin now?" he asked. "Oh!" cried the girl, staring in amazement. "Look at me! Am I your cousin?" he demanded. "I I don't know," she stammered. "Am I talking to you with your cousin's voice?
They were stolen when the pistol was stolen, and the murderer tried to return them so that they might be discovered in Kittredge's room and found to match the alleyway footprints and damn Kittredge." "I don't know who Kittredge is, and I don't know what alleyway you refer to," put in Groener.
You'd better eat a little. Try some of this cold meat and salad? My cook makes rather good dressing." "No, thanks! Speaking of cooks, how did you know the name of that canary bird?" "Ha, ha! Pete? I knew it from the husband of the woman who opens the big gate of the Villa Montmorency. He cleans your windows, you know, and he was useful to me." "He knew you as Groener?" "Of course."
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