“But – there is more!” cried Elizabeth, as if enlightened by a sudden discovery. “There is a fact!...”

“Tell me, do! “cried Fandor, intensely intrigued.

“Well, just imagine then! Among the papers scattered over his table, and close to his book, which was open, I noticed a sort of list of names and addresses, written on our own note-paper, and in the kind of green ink we use – so – well...”

“So,” interrupted the journalist, “you came to the conclusion that this list had been written at your brother’s house? “Yes, and it was not my brother’s handwriting.”

“Nor that of the Baroness de Vibray?”

“Nor that of the Baroness do Vibray!”

“And what did this list contain?”

“Names, addresses, I tell you, of persons we knew.

There were also two or three dates...”

“And is that all?”

“That is all, monsieur: I saw nothing else!”

“Little enough,” murmured Fandor, disappointed.

“Still – no detail, however slight, must be ignored! What have you done with that list, mademoiselle?”

“I must have taken it with me when I collected all the papers I could find the day before yesterday, before going to the boarding-house at Auteuil.”

“When you have an opportunity, will you bring me that list?” requested Fandor.

The conversation was interrupted. A boy came to tell Fandor that he was wanted on the telephone by someone in the Public Prosecutor’s Office.

Later on in the day Jérôme Fandor sent the following express message to Elizabeth Dollon:

“Do not believe a word of the Police Headquarters’ version which you will read in this evening’s La Capitale .” This despatched, the young writer commenced his article entitled:

STILL THE AFFAIR OF THE RUE NORVINS

Police Headquarters takes a view of this affair which is the very reverse of that taken by our contributor, Jérôme Fandor.By the Seine sewer, the roofs of the Palace, and the chimney of Marie Antoinette, an inspector has succeeded in reaching the Dépôt.

Police Headquarters is convinced that Jacques Dollon escaped alive!

CHAPTER SEVEN : PEARLS AND DIAMONDS

“Nadine!”

“Princess!”

“Nadine, what time is it?”

The young Circassian, with hair as black as ink, supple and slender, rose from her chair and was hastening from the bedroom to ascertain the time when her mistress recalled her.

“Don’t go away, Nadine! Stay with me!”

The dusky Circassian obeyed: she stared with big, astonished eyes into those of her mistress.

“But, Princess, why don’t you wish me to go?” The Princess stammered in a mysterious tone:

“Don’t you know then, Nadine, that to-day is the anniversary?... and I am frightened!”