“No; it was three months after he left Caffie, and he was with another man of business of whom I have never spoken to you, and now you understand why. The money he expected failed him; his fault was discovered, and his employer lodged a complaint against him.”
“We made him withdraw his complaint, never mind how, and Florentin went to America to seek his fortune. And since you have seen him, you admit that he might be capable of the fault that he committed, without being capable-of becoming an assassin.”
He was about to reply, but she closed his lips with a quick gesture.
“You will see why I speak of this, and you will understand why I do not drop the subject of Caffie, and of this button, on which the police count to find the criminal. This button belonged to Florentin.”
“To your brother?”
“Yes, to Florentin, who, the day of the crime, had been to see Caffie.”
“That is true; the concierge told the commissioner of police that he called about three o’clock.”
Phillis gave a cry of despair.
“They know he was there? Then it is more serious than we imagined or believed.”
“In answering a question as to whom Caffie had received that day, the concierge named your brother. But as this visit took place between three and half-past, and the crime was certainly committed between five and half-past, no one can accuse your brother of being the assassin, since he left before Caffie lighted his lamp. As this lamp could not light itself, it proves that he could not have butchered a man who was living an hour after the concierge saw your brother and talked with him.”