“Someone owns a house in the Isle of the Cité; a house which is a meeting place for receivers of stolen goods, ruffians, robbers, and vagabonds: a house possessing underground cellars of no ordinary kind. Now this Someone never mentions this strange house of his, though he must be aware of its existence; then this Someone knows intimately several, at least, of the people more or less involved in the Jacques Dollon affair, and – one may boldly assert it – the Dollon plot was hatched in a cellar, in a sewer of the Cité.

So – one of two things!

“Either this personage is timorous, is afraid of being compromised, and does not consider in what an awkward position this coincidence places him – if that be so, he is a singularly thick-headed individual – or – well – Monsieur Thomery... you are the most rascally scoundrel it has been my lot to admire, up to now! But I assure you, we know how to get even with you! From the moment we have established, in the first place, a connection between all these affairs – that they indubitably hang together; secondly, that you, Monsieur Thomery, are the connecting link....”

“No,” interrupted Juve sharply.

“What is that you say?”

“I say – no.”

“What?” cried Fandor, taken aback. He stared at Juve, who continued to smoke his cigarette, unmoved. But Fandor was obstinately set on stating his point of view.

“The primary cause of the Dollon affair seems to be the suicide of the Baroness de Vibray, a suicide probably owing to a love disappointment – the old lady had been forsaken by her lover –Monsieur Thomery!” Juve’s denial slightly annoyed Fandor, but did not stop him.

“I ask; was the man who robbed Sonia Danidoff one of the guests? It is very unlikely; for, not only were the clothes of all those present searched, but all Thomery’s guests were known, well known!”

“No!”

Fandor bit his lip.