eed--"

"I suggest nothing, Monsieur le Prefet," said Don Luis. "So far, you have
followed the logical and natural trend of your thoughts; and that brings
you to your present position."

"Yes, yes, I know, but I am showing you the absurdity of your theory. It
can't be correct, and we can't believe in Marie Fauville's innocence
unless we are prepared to suppose an unheard-of thing, that M. Fauville
took part in his own murder. Why, it's laughable!"

And he gave a laugh; but it was a forced laugh and did not ring true.

"For, after all," he added, "you can't deny that that is where we stand."

"I don't deny it."

"Well?"

"Well, M. Fauville, as you say, took part in his own murder."

This was said in the quietest possible fashion, but with an air of such
certainty that no one dreamed of protesting. After the work of deduction
and supposition which Don Luis had compelled his hearers to undertake,
they found themselves in a corner which it was impossible for them to
leave without stumbling against unanswerable objections.

There was no longer any doubt about M. Fauville's share in his own death.
But of what did that share consist? What part had he played in the
tragedy of hatred and murder? Had he played that part, which ended in the
sacrifice of his life, voluntarily or under compulsion? Who, when all was
said and done, had served as his accomplice or his executioner?

All these questions came crowding upon the minds of M. Desmalions and the
others. They thought of nothing but of how to solve them, and Don Luis
could feel certain that his solution was accepted beforehand. From that
moment he had but to tell his story of what had happened without fear of
contradiction. He did so briefly, after the manner of a succinct report
limited to essentials:

"Three months before the crime, M. Fauville wrote a series of letters
to one of his friends, M. Langernault, who, as Sergeant Mazeroux will
have told you, Monsieur le Prefet, had been dead for several years, a
fact of which M. Fauville cannot have been ignorant. These letters were
posted, but were intercepted by some means which it is not necessary
that we should know for the moment. M. Fauville erased the postmarks
and the addresses and inserted the letters in a machine constructed for
the purpose, of which he regulated the works so that the first letter
should be delivered a fortnight after his death and the others at
intervals of ten days.

"At this moment it is