"Nevertheless, my report will be ready, sir," said Lépine, quietly. "Between midnight and dawn there are six hours."
Delcassé looked at him. He knew that this little man never made an empty promise.
"Did you go through the papers at the time of the Jena disaster?" he asked.
"I did, sir. I assisted the investigating board."
"You are, then, familiar with the theories in that case?"
"There were four theories," answered Lépine. "The first was that the ship had been blown up by treachery; that is always the first thought! But in the case of the Jena, it was quickly discovered that treachery was impossible, unless it was that of the highest officers, for only they had access to her magazines. That was unthinkable, for all of them had served France for many years. More than half of them were killed. I myself investigated the life of every one of these men, for it was necessary to be absolutely certain—but not a breath could be raised against them."
"And the second theory?"
"That there had been carelessness of some sort. That, too, was disproved, for no one had entered the magazines for many hours previous to the explosion. It is a rule of the service that, except when in use, the keys of all magazines shall be in keeping of the commander, who is responsible for them. At the inquiry, the commander of the Jena testified that the keys had not left his possession during the two days preceding the accident. There had been no occasion to enter the magazines during that time. The Jena, you will remember, was at anchor in Toulon harbour, just as the Liberté was."
Delcassé glanced at his companion keenly.
"Does that fact suggest nothing to you, Lépine?" he asked.