“The other letter is for you, Monsieur le Juge d’Instruction,” said the comte. “Better and better,” said M. Filleul, after reading it. “There will certainly not be much for those two gentlemen to do. M. Beautrelet, I hear from Dieppe that the body of a young woman was found by some shrimpers, this morning, on the rocks.” Beautrelet gave a start: “What’s that? The body—” “Of a young woman.—The body is horribly mutilated, they say, and it would be impossible to establish the identity, but for a very narrow little gold curb-bracelet on the right arm which has become encrusted in the swollen skin. Now Mlle. de Saint-Véran used to wear a gold curb-bracelet on her right arm. Evidently, therefore, Monsieur le Comte, this is the body of your poor niece, which the sea must have washed to that distance. What do you think, Beautrelet?” “Nothing—nothing—or, rather, yes—everything is connected, as you see—and there is no link missing in my argument. All the facts, one after the other, however contradictory, however disconcerting they may appear, end by supporting the supposition which I imagined from the first.” “I don’t understand.” “You soon will. Remember, I promised you the whole truth.” “But it seems to me—” “A little patience, Monsieur le Juge d’Instruction. So far, you have had no cause to complain of me. It is a fine day. Go for a walk, lunch at the château, smoke your pipe. I shall be back by four o’clock. As for my school, well, I don’t care: I shall take the night train.” They had reached the out-houses at the back of the château. Beautrelet jumped on his bicycle and rode away. At Dieppe, he stopped at the office of the local paper, the _Vigie_, and examined the file for the last fortnight. Then he went on to the market-town of Envermeu, six or seven miles farther. At Envermeu, he talked to the mayor, the rector and the local policeman. The church-clock struck three. His inquiry was finished. He returned singing for joy. He pressed upon the two pedals turn by turn, with an equal and powerful rhythm; his chest opened wide to take in the keen air that blew from the sea. And, from time to time, he forgot himself to the extent of uttering shouts of triumph to the sky, when he thought of the aim which he was pursuing and of the success that was crowning his efforts. Ambrumésy appeared in sight. He coasted at full speed down the slope leading to the château. The top rows of venerable trees that line the road seemed to run to meet him and to vanish behind him forthwith. And, all at once, he uttered a cry. In a sudden vision, he had seen a rope stretched from one tree to another, across the road. His machine gave a jolt and stopped short. Beautrelet was flung three yards forward, with immense violence, and it seemed to him that only chance, a miraculous chance, caused him to escape a heap of pebbles on which, logically, he ought to have broken his head.