of its construction, and we
arrived at a certain conclusion. It was to ascertain if that
conclusion is correct that I came to America."

"What is the conclusion?" queried Grady, who had listened to all this
with a manifest impatience in strong contrast to my own absorbed
interest.

For I had already guessed what the conclusion was, and my pulses were
bounding with excitement. "Our theory," replied M. Pigot, without
the slightest acceleration of speech, "is that the Michaelovitch
diamonds are concealed in this cabinet. Everything points to it--and
we shall soon see." As he spoke, he drew from his pocket a steel
gauntlet, marvellously like the one Godfrey had used, and slipped it
over his right hand. "When one attempts to fathom the secrets of
_L'Invincible_" he said with a smile, "one must go armoured. Already
three men have paid with their lives the penalty of their rashness."
"Three men!" repeated Grady, wonderingly. "Three," and Pigot checked
them off upon his fingers. "First the man who gave his name as
d'Aurelle, but who was really a blackmailer named Drouet; second, M.
Vantine, the connoisseur; and third, the creature Morel. Of these,
the only one that really matters is M. Vantine; his death was most
unfortunate, and I am sure that Crochard regrets it exceedingly. He
might also regret my death, but, at any rate, I have no wish to be
the fourth. Not I," and he adjusted the gauntlet carefully. "One
moment, monsieur," I said, bursting in, unable to remain longer
silent. "This is all so wonderful--so thrilling--will you not tell us
more? For what were these three men searching? For the jewels?"
"Monsieur is as familiar with the facts as I," he answered, in a
sarcastic tone. "He knows that Drouet was killed while searching for
a packet of letters, which would have compromised most seriously a
great lady; he knows that M. Vantine was killed while endeavouring to
open the drawer after its secret had been revealed to him by the maid
of that same great lady, who was hoping to get a reward for them;
Morel met death directly at the hands of Crochard because he was a
traitor and deserved it." More and more fascinated, I stared at him.
What secret was safe, I asked myself, from this astonishing man? Or
was he merely piecing together the whole story from such fragments as
he knew? "But even yet," I stammered, "I do not understand. We have
opened the secret drawer of the cabinet--there was no poison. How
could it have killed D