in his pocket."

"They must be found. Tell the count's valet to look for them."

The girl rang; but M. Casimir, who was supposed to be engaged in making
preparations for the funeral, was not in the house. However, another
servant and Madame Leon offered their services, and certainly displayed
the most laudable zeal, but their search was fruitless; the fragments
of the letter could not be found. "How unfortunate!" muttered the
magistrate, as he watched them turn the pockets of the count's clothes
inside out. "What a fatality! That letter would probably have solved the
mystery."

Compelled to submit to this disappointment, he returned to the study;
but he was evidently discouraged. Although he did not consider the
mystery insoluble, far from it, he realized that time and research
would be required to arrive at a solution, and that the affair was quite
beyond his province. One hope alone remained.

By carefully studying the last words which M. de Chalusse had written
and spoken he might arrive at the intention which had dictated them.
Experience had wonderfully sharpened his penetration, and perhaps he
might discover a hidden meaning which would throw light upon all this
doubt and uncertainty. Accordingly, he asked Mademoiselle Marguerite for
the paper upon which the count had endeavored to pen his last wishes;
and in addition he requested her to write on a card the dying man's last
words in the order they had been uttered. But on combining the written
and the spoken words the only result obtained was as follows:--"My
entire fortune--give--friends--against--Marguerite--despoiled--your
mother--take care." These twelve incoherent words revealed the count's
absorbing and poignant anxiety concerning his fortune and Marguerite's
future, and also the fear and aversion with which Marguerite's mother
inspired him. But that was all; the sense was not precise enough for any
practical purpose. Certainly the word "give" needed no explanation.
It was plain that the count had endeavored to write, "I give my entire
fortune." The meaning of the word "despoiled" was also clear. It had
evidently been wrung from the half-unconscious man by the horrible
thought that Marguerite--his own daughter, unquestionably--would not
have a penny of all the millions he had intended for her. "Take care"
also explained itself. But there were two words which seemed absolutely
incomprehensible to the magistrate, and which he vainly strove to
connect with