Perenna's every word and he was really anxious.

"Then, according to you," he said, "those letters accusing Madame
Fauville and Gaston Sauverand were placed there with the sole object of
ruining both of them?"

"Yes, Monsieur le Prefet."

"And, as they were placed there before the crime, the plot must have been
schemed before the murder?"

"Yes, Monsieur le Prefet, before the murder. From the moment that we
admit the innocence of Mme. Fauville and Gaston Sauverand, we are obliged
to conclude that, as everything accuses them, this is due to a series of
deliberate acts. Mme. Fauville was out on the night of the murder: a
plot! She was unable to say how she spent her time while the murder was
being committed: a plot! Her inexplicable drive in the direction of La
Muette and her cousin Sauverand's walk in the neighbourhood of the house:
plots! The marks left in the apple by those teeth, by Mme. Fauville's own
teeth: a plot and the most infernal of all!

"I tell you, everything is plotted beforehand, everything is, so to
speak, prepared, measured out, labelled, and numbered. Everything takes
place at the appointed time. Nothing is left to chance. It is a work very
nicely pieced together, worthy of the most skilful artisan, so solidly
constructed that outside happenings have not been able to throw it out of
gear; and that the scheme works exactly, precisely, imperturbably, like
the clockwork in this box, which is a perfect symbol of the whole
business and, at the same time, gives a most accurate explanation of it,
because the letters denouncing the murderers were duly posted before the
crime and delivered after the crime on the dates and at the hours
foreseen."

M. Desmalions remained thinking for a time and then objected:

"Still, in the letters which he wrote, M. Fauville accuses his wife."

"He does."

"We must therefore admit either that he was right in accusing her or that
the letters are forged?"

"They are not forged. All the experts have recognized M. Fauville's
handwriting."

"Then?"

"Then--"

Don Luis did not finish his sentence; and M. Desmalions felt the breath
of the truth fluttering still nearer round him.

The others, one and all as anxious as himself, were silent. He muttered:

"I do not understand--"

"Yes, Monsieur le Prefet, you do. You understand that, if the sending of
those letters forms an integrate part of the plot hatched against Mme.
Fauville and Gaston Sauverand, it is because t