"Émile Pochard should know. Pochard in the Rue Dalmon—under arrest he may talk——"
"Good, Monsieur. The help that you give us will make your deliverance the more speedy."
"I know nothing more."
"You understand, it is not possible to release you until the evidence is more definitely confirmed. But I will do what I can for your comfort and convenience."
"Thanks. And for Madame Morin?"
"Yes, Monsieur. She is, I think, now quite contented."
And the Commissaire departed as rapidly as he had entered. Presently Jim Horton lay down at full length on his bed—the first time since he had been shown into the cell. Everything would be right. He knew it. And it was Moira who had come from her retreat at the first news of his trouble and Piquette's to help them. Behind the reserve of Monsieur Matthieu's disclosures he had read that it was Moira's will—her intelligence that had been matched against that of the Commissaire and Barry Quinlevin, her instinct—her faith in him that had drawn her unerringly to the neglected clues. Where was she? Would she come to him now? Or was the hypnotic spell of Barry Quinlevin still upon her? He stared into the darkness, thinking of the tragedy of Moira's life, and the greater tragedy of his brother Harry's. But in spite of the terrible climax of Harry's strange career and his own unwitting part in it, Jim Horton found himself repeating Moira's wild words, "No divorce—but death——"
And this was the divorce that neither of them had wished for nor dreamed of. But Destiny, which had woven the threads of Harry's life and Moira's and his together for awhile, had destroyed the imperfect tissue—to begin anew. In a while Jim Horton slept, soundly, dreamlessly.
The morning dragged heavily and no one came to his cell. It almost seemed that Monsieur Matthieu had forgotten him and it was not until the afternoon that he was again conducted to the room in which his examination and Piquette's had taken place. There he was brought face to face with the Juge d'Instruction, who shook him by the hand and informed him that word had just been received that the apache, Tricot, had been captured and in charge of Monsieur Matthieu was to be brought at once to confront the witnesses. Monsieur Simon informed him that a partial confession having been extracted from Tricot, the case was simplified and that there seemed little doubt that he would be restored to freedom in a few hours. While disposing of some other cases, Monsieur Matthieu showed the prisoner into the inner room, where Piquette had preceded him.
They were both still technically prisoners, but that did not prevent Piquette from springing up from beside her guard and rushing to meet him.