"What a mystery!" he stammered. "I don't understand! I don't understand"
Weber, who had gone out a few minutes before, returned. M. Desmalions asked:
"Is everything ready?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Préfet, I have had the taxi brought up to the gate beside your car."
"How many of you are there?"
"Eight. Two detectives have just arrived from the commissary's."
"Have you searched the house?"
"Yes. It's almost empty, however. There's nothing but the indispensable articles of furniture and some bundles of papers in the bedroom."
"Very well. Take him away and keep a sharp lookout."
Gaston Sauverand walked off quietly between the deputy chief and Mazeroux. He turned round in the doorway.
"Monsieur le Préfet, as you are making a search, I entreat you to take care of the papers on the table in my bedroom. They are notes that have cost me a great deal of labour in the small hours of the night. Also"
He hesitated, obviously embarrassed.
"Well?"
"Well, Monsieur le Préfet, I must tell you—something"
He was looking for his words and seemed to fear the consequences of them at the same time that he uttered them. But he suddenly made up his mind.
"Monsieur le Préfet, there is in this house—somewhere—a packet of letters which I value more than my life. It is possible that those letters, if misinterpreted,
