'This knot--how did it come to lie in the street below your window? I want to know that first.'
'I dropped it,' she answered sullenly.
'Why?' I said.
'Because----' And then she stopped and looked at me, and then again looked down, her face crimson. 'Because, if you must know,' she continued hurriedly, tracing a pattern on the table with her finger, 'I saw it bore the words "A moi." I have been married only two months, and I thought my husband might find it--and bring it to me. It was a silly fancy.'
'But where did you get it? 'I asked, and I stared at her in growing wonder and perplexity. For the more questions I put, the further, it seemed to me, I strayed from my object.
'I picked it up in the Ruelle d'Arcy,' she answered, tapping her foot on the floor resentfully. 'It was the silly thing put it into my head to--to do what I did. And now, have you any more questions, sir?'
'One only,' I said, seeing it all clearly enough. 'Will you tell me, please, exactly where you found it?'
'I have told you. In the Ruelle d'Arcy, ten paces from the Rue de Valois. Now, sir, will you go?'
'One word, madame. Did----'
But she cried, 'Go, sir, go! go!' so violently, that after making one more attempt to express my thanks, I thought it better to obey her. I had learned all she knew; I had solved the puzzle. But, solving it, I found myself no nearer to the end I had in view, no nearer to mademoiselle. I closed the door with a silent bow, and began to descend the stairs, my mind full of anxious doubts and calculations. The velvet knot was the only clue I possessed, but was I right in placing any dependence on it? I knew now that, wherever it had originally lain, it had been removed once. If once, why not twice? why not three times?