"My name and address are a secret that I am not free to divulge. Be more generous. Restore me the letters without demanding my name. It would be a most kind and noble action, and later on, I shall be able to repay the debt of gratitude I owe you." Puymirol seemed in no haste to reply. He now felt sure that Dargental's murderer sat before him, and he was asking himself what course he had better pursue. "I can now confess that I fully expected to purchase the pocket-book from the finder," continued the stranger. "I was ready and willing to give him as many thousand francs as he chose to ask for it; but, on seeing you, I realised that such a course was out of the question. One can not offer money to a gentleman like you. One can only appeal to his feelings, and invoke his pity for an imprudent woman." "You argue exactly as if I had the letters in my pocket," said Adhémar, in order to gain time. "In your pocket, or in your desk at home, which amounts to the same thing, as it is in your power to restore them to me in either case." "You would consent to accompany me home, then?" "Instantly, if you wish it." "But I don't wish it. You refuse to tell me where you live, so I don't see why I should tell you where I live." "Well, there is nothing to prevent you from making an appointment with me for to-morrow at this same restaurant." "I only make appointments with my friends." "Am I to take this as your final answer?" "Yes, and I will now state my reasons. I did see this pocket-book. It fell into my lap. Now that you have enlightened me, there is no reason why I should deny the fact any longer. But, as for returning the article, it is impossible, as it is no longer in my possession." "You can at least tell me what you have done with it." "I did what any one else would have done with it. I left it at the office of the commissary of police." The stranger turned perceptibly paler, but he did not lose countenance. "At the office of the commissary of the Chaussée d'Antin district?" he asked. "Do you think of claiming the article?" rejoined Puymirol, wishing to evade this rather embarrassing question. "Possibly. Before doing so, however, I must consult the person who is most interested in the matter. But you, no doubt, opened the pocket-book before taking it to the commissary's office?" "Yes; and on discovering that it only contained some papers, my first impulse was to throw it out of the window, but on reflection I said to myself: Russian leather has its value, and I thought that the papers might furnish a clue to the owner of the article." "Did you read the letters?"