The house I am living in, my carriage, the luxurious surroundings so necessary to me, I shall have to give it all up, so they tell me.
These people have dealt me a terrible blow, struck me brutally....
My dear maître, I learned this only two hours ago, and I am still stunned by it. I do not wish to wait for the inevitable moment when I shall begin to console myself, because I shall begin to hope that the disaster is exaggerated. I have no family, I am already old; apart from the satisfaction it gives me to use my influence on behalf of youthful talent, and to help forward its development, my life has no sense in it, it is without aim or object. My dear maître, there are not two ways of announcing to one's friends resolutions analogous to that I now take: when you receive this letter I shall be dead.
I have in front of me, on my writing-table, a tiny phial of poison which I am going to drink to the last drop, without any weakening of will, almost without fear, as soon as I have posted this letter to you myself.
I must confess that I have an instinctive horror of being dragged to the Morgue, as happens whenever there is some doubt about a suicide. It is on account of this I now write to you, so that, thanks to your intervention, all the mistakes justice is liable to make may be avoided.
I kill myself, I only; that is certain.
No one must be incriminated in connection with my death, if it be not Fatality, which has caused my ruin. I once more apologise, my dear maître, for all the measures you will be forced to take owing to my death, and I beg you to believe that my friendship for you was very sincere:
Signed:
Baroness de Vibray."
"Good for you!" cried Fandor. "Here's a go! What a pretty petard in prospect!... Jacques Dollon was innocent; you arrest him; he is so terrified that he hangs himself! Well, old boy, I must say you make some fine blunders on Clock Quay!"