"Suzanne! Suzanne!"
She had just come in and ran up the stairs hurriedly. He stammered, in a choking voice:
"Suzanne ... the box ... the box of stationery...."
"Which one?"
"The one I bought at Louvre ... on a Thursday ... it used to stand at the end of the table."
"But don't you remember, father?... We put it away together...."
"When?"
"That evening ... you know, the day before...."
"But where?... Quick, tell me ... it's more than I can bear...."
"Where?... In the writing-desk."