t the dogs? I thought M. de Gesvres had bought two almost
wild sheep-dogs, which were let loose at night?"

"They were found dead, poisoned."

"By whom? Nobody could get near them."

"It's a mystery. The fact remains that the two men crossed the ruins
without let or hindrance and went out by the little door which we have
heard so much about. They passed through the copsewood, following the
line of the disused quarries. It was not until they were nearly half a
mile from the chateau, at the foot of the tree known as the Great Oak,
that they stopped--and executed their purpose."

"If they came with the intention of killing Mlle. de Saint-Veran, why
didn't they murder her in her room?"

"I don't know. Perhaps the incident that settled their determination
only occurred after they had left the house. Perhaps the girl succeeded
in releasing herself from her bonds. In my opinion, the scarf which was
picked up was used to fasten her wrists. In any case, the blow was
struck at the foot of the Great Oak. I have collected indisputable
proofs--"

"But the body?"

"The body has not been found, but there is nothing excessively
surprising in that. As a matter of fact, the trail which I followed
brought me to the church at Varengeville and the old cemetery perched
on the top of the cliff. From there it is a sheer precipice, a fall of
over three hundred feet to the rocks and the sea below. In a day or
two, a stronger tide than usual will cast up the body on the beach."

"Obviously. This is all very simple."

"Yes, it is all very simple and doesn't trouble me in the least. Lupin
is dead, his accomplices heard of it and, to revenge themselves, have
killed Mlle. de Saint-Veran. These are facts which did not even require
checking. But Lupin?"

"What about him?"

"What has become of him? In all probability, his confederates removed
his corpse at the same time that they carried away the girl; but what
proof have we? None at all. Any more than of his staying in the ruins,
or of his death, or of his life. And that is the real mystery, M.
Beautrelet. The murder of Mlle. Raymonde solves nothing. On the
contrary, it only complicates matters. What has been happening during
the past two months at the Chateau d'Ambrumesy? If we don't clear up
the riddle, young man, others will give us the go-by."

"On what day are those others coming?"

"Wednesday--Tuesday perhaps--"

Beautrelet seemed to be making an inward calculation and then decl