e writer signed the first one, "Anquety"; and the other,
"Pechard." The addresses that he gave were false.

At the end of six years, Henriette died, and the mystery remained
unsolved.

* * * * *

All these events are known to the public. The case was one of those
which excite public interest, and it was a strange coincidence that this
necklace, which had caused such a great commotion in France at the close
of the eighteenth century, should create a similar commotion a century
later. But what I am about to relate is known only to the parties
directly interested and a few others from whom the count exacted a
promise of secrecy. As it is probable that some day or other that
promise will be broken, I have no hesitation in rending the veil and
thus disclosing the key to the mystery, the explanation of the letter
published in the morning papers two days ago; an extraordinary letter
which increased, if possible, the mists and shadows that envelope this
inscrutable drama.

Five days ago, a number of guests were dining with the Count de
Dreux-Soubise. There were several ladies present, including his two
nieces and his cousin, and the following gentlemen: the president of
Essaville, the deputy Bochas, the chevalier Floriani, whom the count had
known in Sicily, and General Marquis de Rouzieres, and old club friend.

After the repast, coffee was served by the ladies, who gave the
gentlemen permission to smoke their cigarettes, provided they would not
desert the salon. The conversation was general, and finally one of the
guests chanced to speak of celebrated crimes. And that gave the Marquis
de Rouzieres, who delighted to tease the count, an opportunity to
mention the affair of the Queen's Necklace, a subject that the count
detested.

Each one expressed his own opinion of the affair; and, of course, their
various theories were not only contradictory but impossible.

"And you, monsieur," said the countess to the chevalier Floriani, "what
is your opinion?"

"Oh! I--I have no opinion, madame."

All the guests protested; for the chevalier had just related in an
entertaining manner various adventures in which he had participated with
his father, a magistrate at Palermo, and which established his judgment
and taste in such manners.

"I confess," said he, "I have sometimes succeeded in unraveling
mysteries that the cleverest detectives have renounced; yet I do not
claim to be Sherlock Holmes. Moreover, I know very little about