At half-past three, a motor-cab drew up. The door downstairs was slammed again; and, almost immediately after, Yvonne saw her husband hurry in, with a furious look in his eyes. He ran up to her, felt to see if she was still fastened and, snatching her hand, examined the ring. Yvonne fainted.... * * * * * She could not tell, when she woke, how long she had slept. But the broad light of day was filling the boudoir; and she perceived, at the first movement which she made, that her bonds were cut. Then she turned her head and saw her husband standing beside her, looking at her: "My son ... my son ..." she moaned. "I want my son...." He replied, in a voice of which she felt the jeering insolence: "Our son is in a safe place. And, for the moment, it's a question not of him, but of you. We are face to face with each other, probably for the last time, and the explanation between us will be a very serious one. I must warn you that it will take place before my mother. Have you any objection?" Yvonne tried to hide her agitation and answered: "None at all." "Can I send for her?" "Yes. Leave me, in the meantime. I shall be ready when she comes." "My mother is here." "Your mother is here?" cried Yvonne, in dismay, remembering Horace Velmont's promise. "What is there to astonish you in that?" "And is it now ... is it at once that you want to ...? "Yes." "Why?... Why not this evening?... Why not to-morrow?" "To-day and now," declared the count. "A rather curious incident happened in the course of last night, an incident which I cannot account for and which decided me to hasten the explanation. Don't you want something to eat first?" "No ... no...." "Then I will go and fetch my mother." He turned to Yvonne's bedroom. Yvonne glanced at the clock. It marked twenty-five minutes to eleven! "Ah!" she said, with a shiver of fright. Twenty-five minutes to eleven! Horace Velmont would not save her and nobody in the world and nothing in the world would save her, for there was no miracle that could place the wedding-ring upon her finger. The count, returning with the Comtesse d'Origny, asked her to sit down. She was a tall, lank, angular woman, who had always displayed a hostile feeling to Yvonne. She did not even bid her daughter-in-law good-morning, showing that her mind was made up as regards the accusation: "I don't think," she said, "that we need speak at length. In two words, my son maintains...." "I don't maintain, mother," said the count, "I declare. I declare on my oath that, three months ago, during the holidays, the upholsterer, when laying the carpet in this room and the boudoir, found the wedding-ring which I gave my wife lying in a crack in the floor. Here is the ring. The date of the 23rd of October is engraved inside." "Then," said the countess, "the ring which your wife carries...."