is opened; memories were beginning to come back
like doves winging their way home to the dovecote.

"At that moment, an irrepressible tremor shook her whole body; her
eyes dilated as if some terrible sight had filled them with horror.

"'Antonello,' she murmured.

"And for seconds, she was unable to say another word.

"I looked at her in mute anguish and the suffering which drew her dear
lips together seemed also to clutch at my heart. The vision which was
in her eyes passed into mine, and I saw again the thin white face of
Antonello, and the quick quivering of his eyelids, the waves of agony
which seized his long worn body and shook it like a reed."

I threw the magazine upon the table.

"That is it," I said.

To cut the pages, I had used the knife with which M. Le Mesge had cut
the cords of the bale, a short ebony-handled dagger, one of those
daggers that the Tuareg wear in a bracelet sheath against the upper
left arm.

I slipped it into the big pocket of my flannel dolman and walked
toward the door.

I was about to cross the threshold when I heard M. Le Mesge call me.

"Monsieur de Saint Avit! Monsieur de Saint Avit!

"I want to ask you something, please."

"What is it?"

"Nothing important. You know that I have to mark the labels for the
red marble hall...."

I walked toward the table.

"Well, I forgot to ask M. Morhange, at the beginning, the date and
place of his birth. After that, I had no chance. I did not see him
again. So I am forced to turn to you. Perhaps you can tell me?"

"I can," I said very calmly.

He took a large white card from a box which contained several and
dipped his pen.

"Number 54 ... Captain?"

"Captain Jean-Marie-Francois Morhange."

While I dictated, one hand resting on the table, I noticed on my cuff
a stain, a little stain, reddish brown.

"Morhange," repeated M. Le Mesge, finishing the lettering of my
friend's name. "Born at...?"

"Villefranche."

"Villefranche, Rhone. What date?"

"The fourteenth of October, 1859."

"The fourteenth of October, 1859. Good. Died at Ahaggar, the fifth of
January, 1897.... There, that is done. A thousand thanks, sir, for
your kindness."

"You are welcome."

I left M. Le Mesge.

My mind, thenceforth, was well made up; and, as I said, I was
perfectly calm. Nevertheless, when I had taken leave of M. Le Mesge, I
felt the need of waiting a few minutes before executing my decision.

First I wandered through the corridors;