"Monsieur, I have grave doubts of the boy's honesty."
"Doubts!" cried Monsieur, with a sudden laugh. "It is not a case for doubts. The boy states facts."
He seated himself in his chair, his face growing stern again. The little action seemed to make him no longer merely my questioner, but my judge.
"Now, Félix Broux, let us get to the bottom of this."
"Monsieur," I began, struggling to put the case clearly, "I learned of the plot by accident. I did not guess for a long time it was you who were the victim. When I found out that, I came straight here to you. Monsieur, there are four men in the plot, and one of them has stood my friend."
"And my assassin!"
"He is a black-hearted villain!" I acknowledged. "For he swore no harm was meant to you. He swore it was only a private grudge against M. Lucas. But when one of them let out the truth I came straight to you."
"That is likely true," said Vigo, "for he was ready to kill the men who barred his way."
"You were in a plot to kill my secretary!"
"Ah, Monsieur!" I cried.