"Whether he acted in person or caused others to act, the law, once it has
hold of him, will know how to--"
"The law will find it no easy matter, Monsieur le Préfet! A man of his
powers and resource must have foreseen everything, even his arrest, even
the accusation of which he would be the subject; and there is little to
be brought against him but moral charges without proofs."
"Then you think--"
"I think, Monsieur le Préfet, that the thing will be to accept his
explanations as quite natural and not to show any distrust. What you
want is to know who he is. Later on, before long, you will be able to
unmask him."
The Prefect of Police continued to walk round the table. Major
d'Astrignac kept his eyes fixed on Perenna, whose coolness amazed him.
The solicitor and the secretary of Embassy seemed greatly excited. In
fact nothing could be more sensational than the thought that filled all
their minds. Was the abominable murderer about to appear before them?
"Silence!" said the Prefect, stopping his walk.
Some one had crossed the anteroom.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in!"
The office messenger entered, carrying a card-tray. On the tray was a
letter; and in addition there was one of those printed slips on which
callers write their name and the object of their visit.
M. Desmalions hastened toward the messenger. He hesitated a moment before
taking up the slip. He was very pale. Then he glanced at 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 Préfet."
"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 Préfet?" 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 PRÉFET:
"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
Préfet, 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 not remove
his eyes from Perenna. Don Luis remained quite master of himself, but
restless and uneasy at heart.
The door opened. The messenger showed some one in.
It was Florence Levasseur.