"Here, chief."

"Mrs. Kesselbach! Show her in."

He walked across the room to receive the young widow at the door and begged her to take a seat. She still wore the same disconsolate look, the same appearance of illness and that air of extreme lassitude which revealed the distress of her life.

She held out a copy of the _Journal_ and pointed to the line in the agony-column which mentioned Steinweg:

"Old Steinweg was a friend of my husband's," she said, "and I have no doubt that he knows a good many things."

"Dieuzy," said M. Lenormand, "bring the person who is waiting... .

Your visit, madame, will not have been useless. I will only ask you, when this person enters, not to say a word."

The door opened. A man appeared, an old man with white whiskers meeting under his chin and a face furrowed with deep wrinkles, poorly clad and wearing the hunted look of those wretches who roam about the world in search of their daily pittance.

He stood on the threshold, blinking his eyelids, stared at M. Lenormand, seemed confused by the silence that greeted him on his entrance and turned his hat in his hands with embarrassment.

But, suddenly, he appeared stupefied, his eyes opened wide and he stammered:

"Mrs... . Mrs. Kesselbach!"

He had seen the young widow. And, recovering his serenity, smiling, losing his shyness, he went up to her and in a strong German accent:

"Oh, I am glad! ... At last! ... I thought I should never ... I was so surprised to receive no news down there ... no telegrams... .

And how is our dear Rudolf Kesselbach?"

The lady staggered back, as though she had been struck in the face, and at once fell into a chair and began to sob.

"What's the matter? ... Why, what's the matter?" asked Steinweg.

M. Lenormand interposed:

"I see, sir, that you know nothing about certain events that have taken place recently. Have you been long travelling?"

"Yes, three months... . I had been up to the Rand. Then I went back to Capetown and wrote to Rudolf from there. But, on my way home by the East Coast route, I accepted some work at Port Said. Rudolf has had my letter, I suppose?"

"He is away. I will explain the reason of his absence. But, first, there is a point on which we should be glad of some information. It has to do with a person whom you knew and to whom you used to refer, in your intercourse with Mr. Kesselbach, by the name of Pierre Leduc."

"Pierre Leduc! What! Who told you?"

The old man was utterly taken aback.

He spluttered out again:

"Who told you? Who disclosed to you ... ?"

"Mr. Kesselbach."

"Never! It was a secret which I confided to him and Rudolf keeps his secrets ... especially this one ..."

"Nevertheless, it is absolutely necessary that you should reply to our questions. We are at this moment engaged on an inquiry about Pierre Leduc which must come to a head without delay; and you alone can enlighten us, as Mr. Kesselbach is no longer here."

"Well, then," cried Steinweg, apparently making up his mind, "what do you want?"

"Do you know Pierre Leduc?"

"I have never seen him, but I have long been the possessor of a secret which concerns him. Through a number of incidents which I need not relate and thanks to a series of chances, I ended by acquiring the certainty that the man in whose discovery I was interested was leading a dissolute life in Paris and that he was calling himself Pierre Leduc, which is not his real name."

"But does he know his real name himself?"

"I presume so."

"And you?"

"Yes, I know it."

"Well, tell it to us."

He hesitated; then, vehemently:

"I can't," he said. "No, I can't."

"But why not?"

"I have no right to. The whole secret lies there. When I revealed the secret to Rudolf, he attached so much importance to it that he gave me a large sum of money to purchase my silence and he promised me a fortune, a real fortune, on the day when he should succeed, first, in finding Pierre Leduc and, next, in turning the secret to account." He smiled bitterly. "The large sum of money is already lost. I came to see how my fortune was getting on."

"Mr. Kesselbach is dead," said the chief detective.

Steinweg gave a bound:

"Dead! Is it possible? No, it's a trap. Mrs. Kesselbach, is it true?"

She bowed her head.

He seemed crushed by this unexpected revelation; and, at the same time, it must have been infinitely painful to him, for he began to cry:

"My poor Rudolf, I knew him when he was a little boy... . He used to come and play at my house at Augsburg... . I was very fond of him."

And, calling Mrs. Kesselbach to witness, "And he of me, was he not, Mrs.

Kesselbach? He must have told you... . His old Daddy Steinweg, he used to call me."

M. Lenormand went up to him and, in his clearest voice:

"Listen to me," he said. "Mr. Kesselbach died murdered... . Come, be calm ... exclamations are of no use... . He died murdered, I say, and all the circumstances of the crime prove that the culprit knew about the scheme in question. Was there anything in the nature of that scheme that would enable you to guess ... ?"

Steinweg stood dumfounded. He stammered:

"It was my fault... . If I had not suggested the thing to him ..."

Mrs. Kesselbach went up to him, entreating him: