"And what did you discover?"

"I discovered the presence of a most powerful specific irritant poison.

I used Mitscherlich's method of detection, and although I cannot yet actually determine the poison with which the gum on the envelope had been impregnated, I proved its terrible effect by experiments. A rabbit inoculated with a single drop of the solution died, in fourteen seconds, of complete paralysis of the muscles, while a drop placed on a piece of meat and given to a cat proved fatal within one minute."

"Then there was poison on the envelope?" I gasped, astounded.

"Yes, but only upon that particular envelope. While left alone in the room awaiting mademoiselle, I secured four other of the same envelopes from the stationary rack on her escritoire. These I took home at once, made solutions, and tested them upon rabbits without effect. This proved that one envelope alone was poisoned."

"Then she was actually poisoned?" I said, surprised at his ingenuity and careful investigation.

"Undoubtedly so. The most curious feature is the mysterious character of the poison. At first I suspected strychnia; but as that attacks the sensitive portion of the spinal nervous system, and the symptoms were so totally different, I was compelled to abandon that theory, as also another I formed--namely, that the paralysis of the motor nerves might be due to curare. After some hours of study and experiment, however, I found that the poison was one extremely difficult of detection when absorbed into the system--that its symptoms were none of those ordinarily attributed to irritant poisons by Tanner and the other toxicologists--that it was a poison not commonly known, if, indeed, known at all."

"Then you think that Yolande was the victim of a deliberate attempt upon her life?"

"Of that I am absolutely convinced. Having taken possession of the letter, I could not well mention it or make inquiries regarding it. I thought it would be best to leave such inquiries to you, who are her intimate friend. I went there to-day in order to satisfy myself regarding the mark on the lip, and also to secure some of the other envelopes. Both of these objects I fortunately accomplished, and have succeeded in establishing the fact that she was poisoned in a most ingenious and secret manner by some person who is evidently no novice in the use of that most deadly and mysterious substance."

"But whom do you suspect?"

He blew a cloud of smoke from his lips, and, with his eyes fixed upon the panelled ceiling, answered:

"Ah! that's the enigma."

"Well," I said, after a pause, "you seem so hostile towards the Countess, I'm wondering if you suspect her?"

"I can't very well, even though there are several curious circ.u.mstances which seem to point in that direction. The great fact in favour of her innocence is that she sent for you. Therefore I should like to obtain more direct evidence before actually condemning her. Some of the circ.u.mstances are distinctly suspicious, even d.a.m.ning, yet others go far to prove the exact contrary."

"But I can't see what object she could have in getting rid of her daughter," I observed, much puzzled by this extraordinary theory.

"Unless she feared some awkward revelations which Yolande might make in a moment of desperation. To me there is still a good deal of mystery surrounding both mother and daughter."

"I quite agree, d.i.c.k. But do you think it possible that a mother could deliberately attempt to kill her daughter by such dastardly means? I don't."

"Such a thing is not unknown in the annals of crime," he answered, knocking the ash slowly from his cigar. "You see, it is practically plain that Yolande is in possession of some secret, and has grown nervous and melancholy. Of the nature of that secret we have no idea.

If it were disclosed it might seriously affect the Countess; hence it would be to the latter's advantage if her daughter's lips were sealed."

"But, my dear fellow, I know the Countess well. She's one of the most charming of women, and utterly devoted to Yolande. Your suggestion seems incredible."

"How incredible it appears to you is of no import, my dear Ingram," he answered calmly. "You asked me to investigate the strange affair for you, and I've done so to the best of my ability. I found that the young lady had been poisoned, in a most secret and ingenious manner, by someone well acquainted with the use of the unknown drug. That the envelope was carefully prepared is quite plain, but by whom it is impossible to say--"

"Not by her mother," I declared, interrupting him. "I can't believe that."

"It is for you to discover that. You can ask her a little later about the letter, without giving her any clue to the fact that I have secured it. She must remain under the impression that the letter was duly posted by one of the servants."

"But she is leaving Paris," I said.

"You can see her this evening and make the necessary inquiries, surely?"

"No," I responded. "I shall not see her again."

"Then it is true, as I've already suggested, that you've quarrelled?"

"No," I declared, "we have agreed to part again--that's all."

He was silent for a moment, contemplating the end of his cigar. Then he observed:

"Well, if I may be permitted to say so, old fellow, I think you've chosen a very wise course. You, in your official position, ought not to be mixed up with any mystery of this sort."

"I know, d.i.c.k--I know quite well," I responded hastily. "You, however, do not love a woman as I love Yolande."

"Love be hanged!" he cried, laughing. "Love is like the influenza-- painful while it lasts, but easily forgotten."

"This matter is too serious for joking," I said, a trifle annoyed by his flippancy.

"Ah, I've heard that story once or twice before! It is astonishing what a difference a month makes in the course of the malady. Take my tip, old chap, and think no more of her. Depend upon it, your charming Yolande with the pretty hair, that used to be admired so much in Brussels, is not worth the position of wife to a good fellow like you."

"That's all very well," I sighed. "I know I was a fool to have called upon her, but I was compelled."

"What compelled you?"

"A circ.u.mstance over which I had no control," I answered, for I did not intend to explain to him the accusation made against her by Kaye.

"And you at once fell in love with her again? Ah! such meetings are always extremely dangerous."

"Yes; that is only too true. I know I have been foolish, and now must suffer."

"Rubbish!" he cried. "Why, my dear fellow, Edith loves you, and is perfectly devoted to you. She is charming, pretty, smart, with all the qualities necessary for the wife of a successful diplomatist. Some day, when you get your promotion, you will be gazetted minister to one or other of the South American Republics, and with her as your wife you'll be perfectly happy."

"You seem to have already carved out my future for me, d.i.c.k."

"I've only prophesied the ordinary course of things."

"I shall, I feel certain, never marry Edith," I answered, shaking my head. "It is entirely out of the question."

"Well, we shall see. A man hardly ever marries his first love, you know. There always seems an evil fortune connected with first loves."

"How coldly philosophical you are, d.i.c.k! Is it because you've never been in love?"

"Never been in love?" he echoed. "Why, my dear old fellow, I've been in love a hundred times, but it's never been sufficiently serious to cause me to pop the question. I'm quite catholic in my tastes, you see. I'm fond of women as a s.e.x."

What he said was perfectly true. He was a popular favourite among the English colony in Paris, and was an inveterate diner-out. Indeed, his well-set-up figure was constantly to be seen at all smart gatherings, and I had overheard many a dainty Parisienne whisper nice things about him behind her fan.

"You'll find a pair of eyes fascinating you one of these days, never fear," I said. "Then it will be my turn to smile."

"Smile away, old chap; you'll never offend me. We are too old friends for that."

CHAPTER TWELVE.