‘Some of them. M. Dumarchez lives five doors from me in the rue de Vallorbes. M. Briant lives near the end of the rue Washington, where it turns into the Champs Elysées. The other addresses I cannot tell you off-hand, but I can help you to find them in a directory.’ ‘Many thanks. Now, please excuse me for going back a moment. You gave me to understand you did not write to M. Felix on the subject of the lottery?’ ‘Yes, I said so, I think, quite clearly.’ ‘But M. Felix states the very opposite. He says he received a letter from you, dated Thursday, 1st April, that is this day week.’ M. Le Gautier stared. ‘What’s that you say? He says he heard from me? There must be a mistake there, monsieur, for I did not write to him.’ ‘But he showed me the letter.’ ‘Impossible, monsieur. He could not have shown you what did not exist. Whatever letter he may have shown you was not from me. I should like to see it. Have you got it there?’ For answer Lefarge held out the sheet which Felix had given to Burnley during their midnight conversation at the villa of St. Malo. As M. Le Gautier read it the look of wonder on his expressive face deepened. ‘Extraordinary!’ he cried, ‘but here is a mystery! I never wrote, or sent, or had any knowledge of such a letter. It’s not only a forgery, but it’s a pure invention. There’s not a word of truth in that story of the bet and the cask from beginning to end. Tell me something more about it. Where did you get it?’ ‘From M. Felix himself. He gave it to Mr. Burnley here, saying it was from you.’ ‘But, good heavens!’ the young man sprang to his feet and began pacing up and down the room, ‘I can’t understand that. Felix is a decent fellow, and he wouldn’t say it was from me if he didn’t believe it. But how could he believe it? The thing is absurd.’ He paused and then continued. ‘You say, monsieur, that Felix said this note was from me. But what made him think so? There’s not a scrap of writing about it. It isn’t even signed. He must have known any one could write a letter and type my name below it. And then, how could he suppose that I should write such a tissue of falsehoods.’ ‘But that is just the difficulty,’ returned Lefarge. ‘It’s not so false as you seem to imagine. The description of the conversation about the lottery and your arrangement with Felix to purchase bonds is, by your own admission, true.’ ‘Yes, that part is, but the rest, all that about a bet and a cask, is wholly false.’ ‘But there I fear you are mistaken also, monsieur. The part about the cask is apparently true. At least the cask arrived, addressed as described, and on the day mentioned.’ Again the young merchant gave an exclamation of astonishment. ‘The cask arrived?’ he cried. ‘Then there really was a cask?’ He paused again. ‘Well, I cannot understand it, but I can only repeat that I never wrote that letter, nor have I the slightest idea of what it is all about.’