it quickly.

"Oh!" he said, with a start.

He looked toward Don Luis, reflected, and then, taking the letter, he
said to the messenger:

"Is the bearer outside?"

"In the anteroom, Monsieur le Prefet."

"Show the person in when I ring."

The messenger left the room.

M. Desmalions stood in front of his desk, without moving. For the second
time Don Luis met his eyes; and a feeling of perturbation came over him.
What was happening?

With a sharp movement the Prefect of Police opened the envelope which he
held in his hand, unfolded the letter and began to read it.

The others watched his every gesture, watched the least change of
expression on his face. Were Perenna's predictions about to be fulfilled?
Was a fifth heir putting in his claim?

The moment he had read the first lines, M. Desmalions looked up and,
addressing Don Luis, murmured:

"You were right, Monsieur. This is a claim."

"On whose part, Monsieur le Prefet?" Don Luis could not help asking.

M. Desmalions did not reply. He finished reading the letter. Then he read
it again, with the attention of a man weighing every word. Lastly, he
read aloud:

"MONSIEUR LE PREFET:

"A chance correspondence has revealed to me the existence of an unknown
heir of the Roussel family. It was only to-day that I was able to
procure the documents necessary for identifying this heir; and, owing to
unforeseen obstacles, it is only at the last moment that I am able to
send them to you _by the person whom they concern_. Respecting a secret
which is not mine and wishing, as a woman, to remain outside a business
in which I have been only accidentally involved, I beg you, Monsieur le
Prefet, to excuse me if I do not feel called upon to sign my name to
this letter."

So Perenna had seen rightly and events were justifying his forecast. Some
one was putting in an appearance within the period indicated. The claim
was made in good time. And the very way in which things were happening at
the exact moment was curiously suggestive of the mechanical exactness
that had governed the whole business.

The last question still remained: who was this unknown person, the
possible heir, and therefore the five or six fold murderer? He was
waiting in the next room. There was nothing but a wall between him
and the others. He was coming in. They would see him. They would know
who he was.

The Prefect suddenly rang the bell.

A few tense seconds elapsed. Oddly enough, M. Desmalions did