e possession of the
unfortunate Jerome Fandor. It seems they constitute an overwhelming
charge against him. Know then, that after having been stolen by my
hands they were given to Jerome Fandor by one of our agents, for the
purpose of compromising the false Corporal Vinson.... But if I have
acted thus, it was not so much through a desire for the money they
gave me for my treachery, not so much for the fallacious promises of
eventual riches which Vagualame was always trying to dazzle me
with--it was through rancour, spite, hate, it was through love!"

Maitre Durul-Burton rose and, bending towards the half-fainting
Bobinette, cried:

"Speak, speak, Mademoiselle!"

Bobinette went on slowly:

"Through love--yes. And it is an avowal which touches me nearly,
wounds me in the depths of my soul, in my most intimate thoughts....

"Yes, I have given away to the vile suggestions of Vagualame, if I
have let myself be drawn by him into horrible by-paths of spying and
treason, it is owing to the spite and rage of an unrequited love, of
an intense passion, intense beyond expression, which I have felt for a
man--a man whose heart was given to another--for the betrothed of
Mademoiselle de Naarboveck--for Lieutenant Henri de Lou----"

The colonel-president, with a brusque gesture, interrupted this
confession.

"Enough, Mademoiselle ... enough!... You are not to mention names
here!... Be good enough to continue your deposition only as it relates
to facts connected with spying."

Bobinette then recounted how she had consented to hide the famous gun
piece brought to her one day by Vagualame; how she had helped the
bandit to concoct the daring plan by which this piece was to be handed
to a foreign power; how she had disguised herself as a priest in order
to take Corporal Vinson to Dieppe. She did not know, at first, that
she was dealing with Jerome Fandor. Enlightenment came through
Vagualame's telegram. She only then realised that the traitor Vinson
and the soldier in her company were two distinct persons.

"And," cried she, "who killed the real Corporal Vinson but a few days
ago in the rue du Cherche-Midi? I know. It was the murderer of Captain
Brocq, the murderer of the singer, Nichoune--it was Vagualame ...
Vagualame!" Bobinette was working herself up to a paroxysm of
exasperation, shouting out her revelations like an apostle who means
to convince, shouting his convictions as a martyr might at the worst
moment of her anguish.