"Go on, man. I am all impatience."
"I am coming to the point fast enough. You know Lefevre of Lyons?"
"Of course. Did we not raise money on the San Salvator property from him also? That was nearly a hundred thousand pounds."
"Quite so," Louis Balmayne said coolly, "for I also manipulated those papers. The romance of the mine and the way it came into your possession fascinated Lefevre. He lent you money at a great rate of interest, but he lent it. On him comes the misfortune. Lefevre has been speculating and burnt his fingers badly. He wanted money badly. He comes to Paris to borrow it from Maitrank----"
The Countess smote her fan on her gloves passionately.
"You need not tell me any more," she whispered hoarsely. "He offered the San Salvator as security to Maitrank, and the murder is out."
"Precisely. But not quite in the way you imagine. Directly Maitrank saw those deeds he knew exactly what had happened. But that wonderful man did not betray himself. His confidential secretary told me that he never turned a hair. He simply regretted that he had no spare capital; he got a warrant for your arrest, and he will be in London tomorrow morning."
"Ah! If I could only lay my hands on a good sum, Louis! Then I might induce Maitrank to wait. For the sake of his own pocket he would keep the secret. He will do nothing so long as he can recover part of his own property."
"You are a wonderful woman," Balmayne said admiringly. "You have guessed it. As to the money, it is to your hand. The coast is clear now, the incumbrance is out of the way. We have only to act at once."
"And where is the money you speak so casually about?"