"And—when do you—begin?"
"There's no hurry. When we get through talking. Is there anything else you want to ask?"
The detective reflected a moment. "Was it you personally who killed my dog?"
"Yes."
"And my mother?" His face was very white and his voice trembled. "Did you—did you intend to kill her?"
The baron shrugged his shoulders. "I left that to chance."
"That's all," said Coquenil. "I—I am ready now."
With a look of mingled compassion and admiration De Heidelmann-Bruck met M. Paul's unflinching gaze.
"We take our medicine, eh? I took mine when you had me hitched to that heart machine, and—now you'll take yours. Good-by, Coquenil," he held out his hand, "I'm sorry."
"Good-by," answered the detective with quiet dignity. "If it's all the same to you, I—I won't shake hands."