After long reflection, the advocate thought of a diabolical stratagem. He burnt all the count’s letters establishing the substitution, and he preserved only those which made it probable. These last he went and showed to Albert, feeling sure, that, should justice ever discover the reason of Claudine’s death, it would naturally suspect he who appeared to have most interest in it. Not that he really wished Albert to be suspected of the crime, it was simply a precaution. He thought that he could so arrange matters that the police would waste their time in the pursuit of an imaginary criminal. Nor did he think of ousting the Viscount de Commarin and putting himself in his place. His plan was simply this; the crime once committed, he would wait; things would take their own course, there would be negotiations, and ultimately he would compromise the matter at the price of a fortune. He felt sure of his mother’s silence, should she ever suspect him guilty of the assassination. His plan settled, he decided to strike the fatal blow on the Shrove Tuesday. To neglect no precaution, he, that very same evening, took Juliette to the theatre, and afterwards to the masked ball at the opera. In case things went against him, he thus secured an unanswerable _alibi_. The loss of his overcoat only troubled him for a moment. On reflection, he reassured himself, saying: “Pshaw! who will ever know?” Everything had resulted in accordance with his calculations; it was, in his opinion, a matter of patience. But when Madame Gerdy read the account of the murder, the unhappy woman divined her son’s work, and, in the first paroxysms of her grief, she declared that she would denounce him. He was terrified. A frightful delirium had taken possession of his mother. One word from her might destroy him. Putting a bold face on it, however, he acted at once and staked his all. To put the police on Albert’s track was to guarantee his own safety, to insure to himself, in the event of a probable success, Count de Commarin’s name and fortune. Circumstances, as well as his own terror, increased his boldness and his ingenuity. Old Tabaret’s visit occurred just at the right moment. Noel knew of his connection with the police, and guessed that the old fellow would make a most valuable confidant. So long as Madame Gerdy lived, Noel trembled. In her delirium she might betray him at any moment. But when she had breathed her last, he believed himself safe. He thought it all over, he could see no further obstacle in his way; he was sure he had triumphed. And now all was discovered, just as he was about to reach the goal of his ambition. But how? By whom? What fatality had resuscitated a secret which he had believed buried with Madame Gerdy? But where is the use, when one is at the bottom of an abyss, of knowing which stone gave way, or of asking down what side one fell?