"Edmond was not my son, but my stepson, the son of my husband by his first wife, who died,"
"Ah! So Edmond Fauville—" muttered the Prefect, without finishing his sentence.
In two minutes the whole situation had changed. In the eyes of the magistrates, Mme. Fauville was no longer the widow and mother who must on no account be attacked. She had suddenly become a woman whom circumstances compelled them to cross-examine. However prejudiced they might be in her favour, however charmed by the seductive qualities of her beauty, they were inevitably bound to ask themselves, whether for some reason or other, for instance, in order to be alone in the enjoyment of the enormous fortune, she had not had the madness to kill her husband and to kill the boy who was only her husband's son. In any case, the question was there, calling for a solution.
The Prefect of Police continued:
"Do you know this turquoise?"
She took the stone which he held out to her and examined it without the least sign of confusion.
"No," she said. "I have an old-fashioned turquoise necklace, which I never wear, but the stones are larger and none of them has this irregular shape."
"We found this one in the safe," said M. Desmalions. "It forms part of a ring belonging to a person whom we know."
"Well," she said eagerly, "you must find that person."
"He is here," said the Prefect, pointing to Don Luis, who had been standing some way off and who had not been noticed by Mme. Fauville.