naye,
who is of Creole origin, is of an extremely excitable nature, and has
suffered in the past from attacks of jealousy which have amounted to
frenzy. It is conjectured that it was in one of these that she committed
the terrible crime which has caused such a sensation in London. Her
movements upon the Monday night have not yet been traced, but it is
undoubted that a woman answering to her description attracted much
attention at Charing Cross Station on Tuesday morning by the wildness
of her appearance and the violence of her gestures. It is probable,
therefore, that the crime was either committed when insane, or that
its immediate effect was to drive the unhappy woman out of her mind. At
present she is unable to give any coherent account of the past, and the
doctors hold out no hopes of the re-establishment of her reason. There
is evidence that a woman, who might have been Mme. Fournaye, was seen
for some hours on Monday night watching the house in Godolphin Street."

"What do you think of that, Holmes?" I had read the account aloud to
him, while he finished his breakfast.

"My dear Watson," said he, as he rose from the table and paced up and
down the room, "you are most long-suffering, but if I have told you
nothing in the last three days it is because there is nothing to tell.
Even now this report from Paris does not help us much."

"Surely it is final as regards the man's death."

"The man's death is a mere incident--a trivial episode--in comparison
with our real task, which is to trace this document and save a European
catastrophe. Only one important thing has happened in the last three
days, and that is that nothing has happened. I get reports almost hourly
from the Government, and it is certain that nowhere in Europe is there
any sign of trouble. Now, if this letter were loose--no, it CAN'T be
loose--but if it isn't loose, where can it be? Who has it? Why is it
held back? That's the question that beats in my brain like a hammer. Was
it, indeed, a coincidence that Lucas should meet his death on the night
when the letter disappeared? Did the letter ever reach him? If so, why
is it not among his papers? Did this mad wife of his carry it off with
her? If so, is it in her house in Paris? How could I search for it
without the French police having their suspicions aroused? It is a case,
my dear Watson, where the law is as dangerous to us as the criminals
are. Every man's hand is against us, and yet the interests at