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and his four successive heirs, it means that he himself is the millionaire’s fifth heir. The man will be here in a moment.”

“What!”

It was a spontaneous exclamation on the part of the Prefect of Police, who was forgetting the whole of Don Luis Perenna’s powerful and closely reasoned argument, and thinking only of the stupefying apparition which Don Luis announced. Don Luis replied:

“Monsieur le Préfet, his visit is the logical outcome of my accusations. Remember that Cosmo Mornington’s will explicitly states that no heir’s claim will be valid unless he is present at today’s meeting.”

“And suppose he does not come?” asked the Prefect, thus showing that Don Luis’s conviction had gradually got the better of his doubts.

“He will come, Monsieur le Préfet. If not, there would have been no sense in all this business. Limited to the crimes and other actions of Hippolyte Fauville, it could be looked upon as the preposterous work of a madman. Continued to the deaths of Marie Fauville and Gaston Sauverand, it demands, as its inevitable outcome, the appearance of a person who, as the last descendant of the Roussels of Saint-Etienne and consequently as Cosmo Mornington’s absolute heir, taking precedence of myself, will come to claim the hundred millions which he has won by means of his incredible audacity.”

“And suppose he does not come?” M. Desmalions once more exclaimed, in a more vehement tone.

“Then, Monsieur le Préfet, you may take it that I am the culprit; and you have only to arrest me. This day, between five and six o’clock, you will see before you, in this room, the person who killed the Mornington heirs. It is, humanly speaking, impossible that this should not be so. Consequently, the law will be satisfied in any circumstances. He or I: the position is quite simple.”

M. Desmalions was silent. He gnawed his moustache thoughtfully and walked round and round the table, within the narrow circle formed by the others. It was obvious that objections to the supposition were springing up in his mind. In the end, he muttered, as though speaking to himself:

“No, no. For, after all, how are we to explain that the man should have waited until now to claim his rights?”

“An accident, perhaps, Monsieur le Préfet, an obstacle of some kind. Or else⁠—one can never tell⁠—the perverse longing for a more striking sensation. And remember, Monsieur le Préfet, how minutely and subtly the whole business was worked. Each event took place at the very moment fixed by Hippolyte Fauville. Cannot we take it that his accomplice is pursuing this method to the end and that he will not reveal himself until the last minute?”

M. Desmalions exclaimed, with a sort of anger:

“No, no, and again no! It is not possible. If a creature monstrous enough to commit such a series of murders exists, he will not be such a fool as to deliver himself into our hands.”

“Monsieur le Préfet, he does not know the danger that threatens him if he comes here, because no one has even contemplated the theory of his existence. Besides, what risk does he run?”

“What risk? Why, if he has really committed those murders⁠—”

“He has committed them, Monsieur le Préfet. He has caused them to be committed, which is a different thing. And you now see where the man’s unsuspected strength lies! He does not act in person. From the day when the truth appeared to me, I have succeeded in gradually discovering his means of action, in laying bare the machinery which he controls, the tricks which he employs. He does not act in person. There you have his method. You will find that it is the same throughout the series of murders.

“In appearance, Cosmo Mornington died of the results of a carelessly administered injection. In reality, it was this man who caused the injection to prove fatal. In appearance, Inspector Vérot was killed by Hippolyte Fauville. In reality, it must have been this man who contrived the murder by pointing out the necessity to Fauville and, so to speak, guiding his hand. And, in the same way, in appearance, Fauville killed his son and committed suicide; Marie Fauville committed suicide; Gaston Sauverand committed suicide. In reality, it was this man who wanted them dead, who prompted them to commit suicide, and who supplied them with the means of death.

“There you have the method, and there, Monsieur le Préfet, you have the man.” And, in a lower voice, that contained a sort of apprehension, he added, “I confess that never before, in the course of a life that has been full of strange meetings, have I encountered a more terrifying person, acting with more devilish ability or greater psychological insight.”

His words created an ever-increasing sensation among his hearers. They really saw that invisible being. He took shape in their imaginations. They waited for him to arrive. Twice Don Luis had turned to the door and listened. And his action did more than anything else to conjure up the image of the man who was coming.

M. Desmalions said:

“Whether he acted in person or caused others to act, the law, once it has hold of him, will know how to⁠—”

“The law will find it no easy matter, Monsieur le Préfet! A man of his powers and resource must have foreseen everything, even his arrest, even the accusation of which he would be the subject; and there is little to be brought against him but moral charges without proofs.”

“Then you think⁠—”

“I think, Monsieur le Préfet, that the thing will be to accept his explanations as quite natural and not to show any distrust. What you want is to know who he is. Later on, before long, you will be able to unmask him.”

The Prefect of Police continued to walk round the table. Major d’Astrignac kept his eyes fixed on Perenna, whose coolness amazed him. The solicitor and the secretary of Embassy seemed greatly excited. In fact nothing could be more sensational than the thought that filled all their minds. Was the abominable murderer

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