"Quite sure. Besides, she made me write it down so as not to miss a word. Here it is," and, producing the torn page, she read: "Tell M. Kittredge that the lady who called for him in the carriage knows now that the person she thought guilty last night is NOT guilty. She knows this absolutely, so she will be able to appear and testify in favor of M. Kittredge if it becomes necessary. But she hopes it will not be necessary. She begs M. Kittredge to use this money for a good lawyer."
"She didn't say who this person is that she thought guilty last night?"
"No."
"Did she say why she thought him guilty or what changed her mind? Did she drop any hint? Try to remember."
Alice shook her head. "No, she said nothing about that."
Coquenil rose and walked back and forth across the study, hands deep in his pockets, head forward, eyes on the floor, back and forth several times without a word. Then he stopped before Alice, eying her intently as if making up his mind about something.
"I'm going to trust you, mademoiselle, with an important mission. You're only a girl, but—you've been thrown into this tragic affair, and—you'll be glad to help your lover, won't you?"
"Oh, yes," she answered eagerly.
"You may as well know that we are facing a situation not altogether—er—encouraging. I believe M. Kittredge is innocent and I hope to prove it, but others think differently and they have serious things against him."
"What things?" she demanded, her cheeks paling.