"And you—you think it's his doing?"
"Of course. He must have given the order in that cipher dispatch to Dubois. Dubois is a secret agent of the government. He communicated with the Prime Minister, but the Prime Minister was away inaugurating a statue; he didn't return until after midnight. That is why the man wasn't set at liberty sooner. No wonder he kept looking at the clock."
"And Dubois telegraphed to have this hellish thing done?"
"Yes, yes, they had warned me, they had killed my dog, and—and now they have struck at my mother." He bent down his head on his hands. "She's all I've got, Tignol, she's seventy years old and—infirm and—no, no, I quit, I'm through."
In his distress and perplexity the old man could think of nothing to say; he simply tugged at his fierce mustache and swore hair-raising oaths under his breath.
"And the insurance?" he asked presently. "What does that mean?"
"I sent the renewal money to this lawyer Abel," answered Coquenil in a dull tone. "They have used him against me to—to take my savings. I had put about all that I had into this home for my mother. You see they want to break my heart and—they've just about done it."
He was silent a moment, then glanced quickly at his watch. "Come, we have no time to lose. My train leaves in an hour. I have important things to explain—messages for Pougeot and the girl—I'll tell you in the carriage."
Five minutes later they were speeding swiftly in an automobile toward the Eastern railway station.