The secretary suggested:
"In view of Vérot's absence, Monsieur le Préfet, and of what he said, it might be as well for you to see what's in the letter first."
M. Desmalions paused to reflect.
"Perhaps you're right."
And, making up his mind, he inserted a paper-knife into the envelope and cut it open. A cry escaped him.
"Oh, I say, this is a little too much!"
"What is it, Monsieur le Préfet?"
"Why, look here, a blank … sheet of paper! That's all the envelope contains!"
"Impossible!"
"See for yourself—a plain sheet folded in four, with not a word on it."
"But Vérot told me in so many words that he had said in that letter all that he knew about the case."
"He told you so, no doubt, but there you are! Upon my word, if I didn't know Inspector Vérot, I should think he was trying to play a game with me."
"It's a piece of carelessness, Monsieur le Préfet, at the worst."
"No doubt, a piece of carelessness, but I'm surprised at him. It doesn't do to be careless when the lives of two people are at stake. For he must have told you that there is a double murder planned for to-night?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Préfet, and under particularly alarming conditions; infernal was the word he used."
M. Desmalions was walking up and down the room, with his hands behind his back. He stopped at a small table.
