Don Luis had listened in silence. He made a sign to Patrice:
“Will you allow me to clear up this business, captain? It won’t take me more than a few minutes; and that certainly won’t delay us.” And, without waiting for the officer’s reply, he turned to the old man and said slowly, “Let’s have this out, M. Vacherot. It’s of the highest importance. The great thing is to speak plainly and not to lose yourself in superfluous words. Besides, you have said too much not to finish your revelation. Siméon Diodokis is not your benefactor’s real name, is it?”
“No, that’s so.”
“He is Armand Belval; and the woman who loved him used to call him Patrice?”
“Yes, his son’s name.”
“Nevertheless, this Armand Belval was a victim of the same murderous attempt as the woman he loved, who was Coralie Essarès’ mother?”
“Yes, but Coralie Essarès’ mother died; and he did not.”
“That was on the fourteenth of April, 1895.”
“The fourteenth of April, 1895.”
Patrice caught hold of Don Luis’ arm: