"Certainly they are wrong," agreed the Comte easily.
"You say that, but you do not know the truth. I do."
The Comte looked at her curiously.
"You know who killed Madame Kettering? Is that what you would say, Mademoiselle?"
Mirelle nodded vehemently.
"Yes."
"Who was it?" asked the Comte sharply.
"Her husband." She bent nearer to the Comte, speaking in a low voice that vibrated with anger and excitement. "It was her husband who killed her."
The Comte leant back in his chair. His face was a mask.
"Let me ask you, Mademoiselle—how do you know this?"