"There is a portrait of the Comtesse d'Andeville between the two windows. When was it hung there?"
Jérôme did not reply at once. He thought for a moment, looked at his wife, and then said:
"Why, that's easily answered. It was when Monsieur le Comte sent all his furniture to the house . . . before they moved in."
"When was that?"
Paul's agony was unendurable during the three or four seconds before the reply.
"Well?" he asked.
When the reply came at last it was decisive:
"Well, it was in the spring of 1898."
"Eighteen hundred and ninety-eight!"
Paul repeated the words in a dull voice: 1898 was the year of his father's murder!