“Precisely, monsieur; I had only a moment to think in. I said to myself, this wicked blade has been prepared for the slaying of an innocent woman, he has already tried to kill her with a prepared rose, he failed, he killed Atalanta instead, the death of his Majesty’s favourite dog drew me into the business, and now I am made by God his judge. I said to myself—There is no use at all trying to bring this gentleman to justice by ordinary means, he is too clever, his poisons are too artfully prepared, he will surely give us the slip. Let his own hand deal him justice, and I reversed the dagger in its sheath.” “_Mordieu_!” said de Sartines, “that was at least a quick road. But the handle of the dagger, will he not notice that it has been reversed?” “No, monsieur, for the pattern of the handle was the same on both sides, whereas the patterns on the sides of the sheath were widely different.” Sartines sat down again; for a moment he said nothing; he seemed plunged in thought. “That was four days ago,” said he at last, “yet nothing has happened. Both Camus and his wife are alive and very much in evidence.” “Have they met much, monsieur?” “As far as I can say, no, for Madame Camus has been at Versailles for the last couple of days.” “When I asked had they met much, monsieur, I should have asked, have they met at any public entertainment or banquet, for it is then that the deed will be done, openly and before witnesses. For that is the essence of the whole business. It would be quite easy for Count Camus to poison his wife at home and in secret, but it is necessary for him to say, ‘I only met her once in the last so many days, we were quite good friends, so much so, that we shared an apple together. Do you suggest that I poisoned the apple? Well, considering that I ate half of it and that I did not touch it beyond taking it from the dish and cutting it in two such a suggestion is absurd.—And here is the knife itself. I always use it for cutting fruit, see, the blade is silvered on purpose, take it, test it for poison——’ So, monsieur, you see my drift. The deed will be done at some public entertainment, and I ask you, have they met at such an entertainment where the thing would be feasible?” “No,” said Sartines, speaking slowly and raising his eyes from the floor where they had been resting. “But they will to-night.” “To-night?” “I believe so. M. de Choiseul is holding a reception at his house in the Rue Faubourg St. Honoré. Camus, who is in love with Mademoiselle Fontrailles, will surely be there, and the girl will surely be there, since the Dubarrys are now friends with Choiseul—for the moment—and since Madame Camus is a friend of Madame de Choiseul, she will be there.” “Then, monsieur,” said Lavenne, “I will not give a _denier_ for M. Camus’ life after midnight to-night.”