de Chalusse left the
house with two millions in his possession; and while he was
absent, he either disposed of that enormous sum--or else it was
stolen from him."
Mademoiselle Marguerite shuddered. "Oh! stolen," she faltered.
"Yes, my child--anything is possible. We must consider the
situation in every possible light. But to continue. Where was M.
de Chalusse going?"
"To the house of a gentleman who would, he thought, be able to
furnish the address given in the letter he had torn up."
"What was this gentleman's name?"
"Fortunat."
The magistrate wrote the name down on his tablets, and then,
resuming his examination, he said: "Now, in reference to this
unfortunate letter which, in your opinion, was the cause of the
count's death, what did it say?"
"I don't know, monsieur. It is true that I helped the count in
collecting the fragments, but I did not read what was written on
them."
"That is of little account. The main thing is to ascertain who
wrote the letter. You told me that it could only have come from
the sister who disappeared thirty years ago, or else from your
mother."
"That was, and still is, my opinion."
The magistrate toyed with his ring; and a smile of satisfaction
stole over his face. "Very well!" he exclaimed, "in less than
five minutes I shall be able to tell you whether the letter was
from your mother or not. My method is perfectly simple. I have
only to compare the handwriting with that of the letters found in
the escritoire.
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