"Nor was it!" she cried. "Let me tell you, monsieur. I reached the great building, which my husband had already pointed out to me; I went up in the lift; I entered the office, but saw no one. I went on through an open door and saw an old man sitting at a desk. I inquired if Mr. Holladay was there. The old man glanced at me and bowed toward another door. I saw it was a private office and entered it. The door swung shut behind me. There was another old man sitting at a desk, sharpening a pencil." "'Is it you, Frances?' he asked. "'No,' I said, stepping before him. 'It is her sister, Monsieur Holladay!' "He stared up at me with such a look of dismay and anger on his face that I was fairly frightened; then, in the same instant, before I could draw breath, before I could say another word, his face grew purple, monsieur, and he fell forward on his desk, on his hand, on the knife, which was clasped in it. I tried to check the blood, but could not, it poured forth in such a stream. I knew not what to do; I was distracted, and in a frenzy, I left the place and hurried to our lodgings. That is the truth, monsieur; believe me." "I do believe you," I said; and she turned again to the window to hide her tears. "It was then," went on her mother, "that that man yonder had another inspiration. Before it had been only--what you call--blackmail--a few thousands, perhaps a pension; now it was something more--he was playing for a greater stake. I do not know all that he planned. He found Celeste suspected of having killed her father; he must get her released at any cost; so he wrote a note----" "Yes," I cried. "Yes, of course; I see. Miss Holladay under arrest was beyond his reach." "Yes," she nodded, "so he wrote a note--oh, you should have seen him in those days! He was like some furious wild beast. But after she was set free, Celeste did not come to us as she had promise'. We saw that she suspected us, that she wish' to have nothing more to do with us; so Victor commanded that I write another letter, imploring her, offering to explain." She stopped a moment to control herself. "Ah, when I think of it! She came, monsieur. We took from her her gown and put it on Cecile. She never left the place again until the carriage stopped to take her to the boat. As for us--we were his slaves--he guided each step--he seemed to think of everything--to be prepared for everything--he planned and planned." There was no need that she should tell me more--the whole plot lay bare before me--simple enough, now that I understood it, and carried out with what consummate finish! "One thing more," I said. "The gold." She drew a key from her pocket and gave it to me. "It is in a box upstairs," she said. "This is the key. We have not touched it."