olice decided on their arrest. On the morning of June 8 M. Mace,
then head of the Detective Department, called at their house. He found
Fenayrou in a dressing-gown. This righteous avenger of his wife's
seduction denied his guilt, like any common criminal, but M. Mace handed
him over to one of his men, to be taken immediately to Versailles. He
himself took charge of Madame, and, in the first-class carriage full of
people, in which they travelled together to Versailles, she whispered to
the detective a full confession of the crime.

Mace has left us an account of this singular railway journey. It was two
o'clock in the afternoon. In the carriage were five ladies and a young
man who was reading La Vie Parisienne. Mme. Fenayrou was silent and
thoughtful. "You're thinking of your present position?" asked the
detective. "No, I'm thinking of my mother and my dear children." "They
don't seem to care much about their father," remarked Mace. "Perhaps
not." "Why?" asked M. Mace. "Because of his violent temper," was the
reply. After some further conversation and the departure at Courbevoie
of the young man with La Vie Parisienne, Mme. Fenayrou asked abruptly:
"Do you think my husband guilty?" "I'm sure of it." "So does Aubert's
sister." "Certainly," answered M. Mace; "she looks on the crime as one
of revenge." "But my brother-in-law," urged the woman, "could have had
no motive for vengeance against Aubert." Mace answered coldly that he
would have to explain how he had employed his time on Ascension Day.
"You see criminals everywhere," answered Madame.

After the train had left St. Cloud, where the other occupants of the
carriage had alighted, the detective and his prisoner were alone, free
of interruption till Versailles should be reached. Hitherto they had
spoken in whispers; now Mace seized the opportunity to urge the woman to
unbosom herself to him, to reveal her part in the crime. She burst into
tears. There was an interval of silence; then she thanked Mace for the
kindness and consideration he had shown her. "You wish me," she asked,
"to betray my husband?" "Without any design or intention on your
part," discreetly answered the detective; "but by the sole force of
circumstances you are placed in such a position that you cannot help
betraying him."

Whether convinced or not of this tyranny of circumstance, Mme. Fenayrou
obeyed her mentor, and calmly, coldly, without regret or remorse, told
him the story of the assassination.