"Did your chauffeur drive you?"
"To the opera, yes. But I sent him back to his garage; and he came to fetch me at the party."
"I see," said M. Desmalions. "But how did you go from the opera to Mme. d'Ersingen's?"
For the first time, Mme. Fauville seemed to understand that she was the victim of a regular cross-examination; and her look and attitude betrayed a certain uneasiness. She replied:
"I took a motor cab."
"In the street?"
"On the Place de l'Opéra."
"At twelve o'clock, therefore?"
"No, at half-past eleven: I left before the opera was over."
"You were in a hurry to get to your friend's?"
"Yes … or rather"
She stopped; her cheeks were scarlet; her lips and chin trembled; and she asked:
"Why do you ask me all these questions?"
"They are necessary, Madame. They may throw a light on what we want to know. I beg you, therefore, to answer them. At what time did you reach your friend's house?"
"I hardly know. I did not notice the time."
"Did you go straight there?"
"Almost."
"How do you mean, almost?"
"I had a little headache and told the driver to go up the Champs Elysées and the Avenue du Bois—very slowly—and then down the Champs Elysées again"
She was becoming more and more embarrassed. Her
