In the meantime Lecoq turned towards Catenac. “And you too are included in this warrant,” said he. Catenac, perhaps owing to his legal training, made no reply to Lecoq, but addressing the commissary, observed,-- “I am the victim of a most unpleasant mistake, but my position----” “The warrant is quite regular,” returned the commissary. “You can see it if you desire.” “No, it is not necessary. I will only ask you to conduct me to the magistrate who issued it, and in five minutes all will be explained.” “Do you think so?” asked Lecoq in a quiet tone of sarcasm. “You have not heard, I can see, of what took place yesterday. A laborer, in the course of his work, discovers the remains of a newly-born infant, wrapped in a silk handkerchief and a shawl. The police soon set inquiries on foot, and have found the mother--a girl named Clarisse.” Had not Lecoq suddenly grasped Catenac’s arm, the lawyer would have flown at Martin Rigal’s throat. “Villain, traitor!” panted he, “you have sold me!” “My papers have been stolen,” faltered the banker. He now saw that the blows struck upon the other side of the wall were merely a trick, for Lecoq had thought that a little preliminary fright would render them more amenable to reason. Hortebise still looked on calmly; he knew that the game was lost. “I belong to a respectable family,” thought he, “and I will not bring dishonor upon it. I have no time to lose.” As he spoke he placed the contents of the locket between his lips and swallowed them. “Ah,” murmured he, as he did so, “with my constitution and digestion, it is really hard to end thus.” No one had noticed the doctor’s movements, for Lecoq had moved the screen, and was showing the commissary a hole which had been made in the wall large enough for the body of a man to pass through. But a sudden sound cut these investigations short, for Hortebise had fallen to the ground, and was struggling in a series of terrible convulsions. “How stupid of me not to have foreseen this,” exclaimed Lecoq. “He has poisoned himself; let some one run for a doctor. Take him into another room and lay him on a bed.” While these orders were being carried out, Catenac was removed to a cab which was in waiting, and Martin Rigal seemed to have lapsed into a state of moody imbecility. Suddenly he started to his feet, crying,-- “My daughter Flavia! yes, her name is Flavia, what is to become of her? She has no fortune, and she is married to a man who can never provide for her. My child will perhaps starve. Oh, horrible thought!” The man’s strong mind had evidently given way, and his love for his child and the hideous future that lay before her had broken down the barrier that divides reason from insanity. He was secured by the officers, raving and struggling. When Lecoq was left alone with the Duke, Paul and Flavia, he cast a glimpse of pity at the young girl, who had crouched down in a corner, and evidently hardly understood the terrible scene that had just passed.