"Ah! Look, M'sieur Jacox!" she shrieked a second later. "Yes--yes, it is that man!" she went on, pointing her finger at him. "At last! Thank God! I have found him!" "What do you mean?" I demanded. "This is M'sieur Pierron." "I tell you," she cried, "that is the man whom I saw at the Rue de Royat--the man who strangled poor Madame Levitsky!" "You lie!" he cried, stepping towards her. "I--I've never seen you before!" "And yet you have just uttered mademoiselle's name, m'sieur," I remarked quietly. "He knows that I was present at the time of the tragedy," exclaimed Suzette quickly, "and that he was the paid assassin of Henry Banfield. He killed the unfortunate woman for two reasons: first, in order to obtain her husband's papers, which had both political and financial importance; and secondly, to obtain her jewellery, which was of very considerable value. And upon me, because I was defenceless, the guilt was placed. They said I was jealous of her." "Suzette," I said slowly, "leave this man to me." Then, glancing towards him, I saw what a terrible effect her denunciation had had upon him. Pale to the lips, he stood cowed, even trembling, for before him was the living witness of his crime. I stood with my back to the door, barring his escape. "Now," I said, "what is your defence?" He was silent. I repeated my question in a hard, distinct voice. "Let's cry quits," he said in a low, hoarse tone. "I will preserve your secret--if you will keep mine. Will you not accept terms?" "Not those," I replied promptly. "Suzette has been accused by Banfield, and by you, of the crime which you committed. She shall therefore name her own terms." Realising that, by the fortunate discovery of the assassin of Madame Levitsky, she had at once freed herself from the trammels cast about her by Banfield, it was not surprising that the girl should stipulate as a condition of allowing the spy his freedom that he should hand over to me all the copies of the secret diplomatic correspondence which he possessed. At first he loudly protested that he had none, but I compelled him to hand me the key of his despatch-box, and accompanying him to his room at the further end of the corridor, we searched and there found within the steel box a file of papers which he held ready to hand over to the Quai d'Orsay--the actual information of which I had been in such active search. The German inducements were all set out clearly and concisely, the copies being in the neat hand of the traitorous clerk in the Treaty Department. Pierron, the tables thus turned upon him, begged me to allow him at least to have copies. This I refused, triumphantly taking possession of the whole file and bidding him good-night. In an hour we had both left the German capital, and next day I had the satisfaction of handing the copy of the German proposals and the whole correspondence to the Minister for Foreign Affairs at Downing Street.