"She was my mother," said Benedetto, accenting the word was.
"She was? Is she dead?" asked Danglars, softly.
"Yes, I killed her."
"Horrible," groaned Danglars, wringing his hands.
"If you want proofs," continued Benedetto, coldly, "here they are."
He took Anselmo's writing out of his pocket and handed it to the banker.
"Read," he said, indifferently.
"What do you want from me?" murmured Danglars, hoarsely.
"First, money, and then let us talk further."
"You shall have what you want," replied Danglars.