"The best argument would be the stump of wood itself."
"Here it is," said Shears. "I picked it up in the garden, behind a laurel-tub."
The baron gave in. It was only forty minutes since the Englishman had entered by that door; and not a vestige remained of all that had been believed so far on the evidence of the apparent facts themselves. The reality, a different reality, came to light, founded upon something much more solid: the reasoning faculties of a Holmlock Shears.
"It is a very serious accusation to bring against our people, Mr. Shears," said the baroness. "They are old family servants and not one of them is capable of deceiving us."
"If one of them did not deceive you, how do you explain that this letter was able to reach me on the same day and by the same post as the one you sent me?"
And he handed her the letter which Arsène Lupin had written to him.
Madame d'Imblevalle was dumbfounded:
"Arsène Lupin!... How did he know?"
"Did you tell no one of your letter?"