“Yes, and I know how loyal he has been to me. Why, he wouldn’t even tell about the diamonds, much less my letters!”
“As for these letters, you are still anxious about them, Mademoiselle?”
“My hope is that Mr. Dundas found and had time to destroy them, rather than risk further delay.”
“You would like to know their fate?”
“I would indeed.”
“Well, I applaud the Englishman’s chivalry. Vive l’Entente Cordiale!”
“You are a man to understand such chivalry, Monsieur. Now that I’ve humbled myself, can’t you give me hope that he’ll soon be released, and yet that—that I shan’t be made to suffer for my confession to you? It’s clear to you, isn’t it, that the murder must have been done long before he could have reached the house in the Rue de la Fille Sauvage from the Rue d’Hollande?”
“Yes, that is clear. And needless to say, I believe your statement, Mademoiselle. You are brave and good to have come forward as you have, without being called upon. There are still some formalities to be gone through before Mr. Dundas can be released; but English influence is at work in high quarters, and after what you have told me, I think he will not much longer be under restraint. Besides, I may as well inform you, dear lady, that not ten minutes before you arrived this morning I received satisfactory news of the arrest of two Englishmen at Frankfort, who seem to have been concerned in this business in the Rue de la Fille Sauvage. They certainly travelled with the murdered man; and a friend of his called Gestre, just back from Marseilles, has sworn that these persons were formerly partners of Janson, the deceased. If Janson stole the necklace from Monsieur du Laurier, with this pair as accomplices, and then tried to cheat them, a motive for the crime is evident. And we are getting at Janson’s record, which seems to be a bad one—a notorious one throughout Europe, if he proves to be the man we think. I hope, really, that in a very few days Mr. Dundas may be able to thank you in person for what you’ve done for him, and—to tell you what has become of those letters.”
“What good will their destruction do me, though, if you are not merciful?”
“I intend to be, for I can combine mercy with justice. Dear Mademoiselle, Monsieur du Laurier need never know the circumstances you have told to me, or that the Englishman’s alibi has been proved by you. The arrest of these two men in Frankfort will, I feel sure, help the police to keep your secret as you would keep it yourself. Now, will that assurance make it easier for you to put your whole soul into your part to-night?”