The pianiste's father appeared, sad and deferential, respectful and curious. The change in the Marquis de Claviers since his master's death had not escaped that sagacious observer. He had guessed its secret cause, but had not been able to divine how his long-abused credulity had been so suddenly enlightened. When he found himself in Landri's presence, his desire to find out gave to his ordinarily expressionless eyes, in spite of himself, a sharpness which was hateful to Landri--less so, however, than another circumstance both ghastly and comical. Joseph was in deep mourning. He was dressed in garments which had belonged to the dead man. The folds of the coat and trousers, which were of English cut, as befitted a man of Jaubourg's pretensions to style, had retained the outlines of their former owner's body, the features, so to speak, of his movements. This evocation of the dead was made to assume a caricaturish aspect by the servant's involuntary mimicry of his master, who had evidently had a hypnotic influence upon him. He regretted him sincerely, and there was genuine grief in his voice when he said to Landri:-- "Ah! Monsieur le Comte, I told Monsieur le Comte at Grandchamp that monsieur would not last two days longer. Such a kind master! Monsieur le Comte knows that he left my wife and me an annuity of thirty-six hundred francs and ten thousand francs for Amélie's marriage portion. I am going to be able to retire to a little place in my province that I had bought already with my savings. People tell me: 'You're going to be happy, Monsieur Joseph.' But that isn't true, Monsieur le Comte. To have watched him go, as I did, spoils everything for me." "Since you were so devoted to him," rejoined Landri, studying the effect of his words on that face, which was gradually overspread by amazement, "you will certainly assist me in an investigation, which indeed interests you yourself. Some papers have disappeared--letters, to which Monsieur Jaubourg attached the greatest importance. Observe, Joseph, that I do not accuse you. I came here to ask you simply, is it possible that anybody entered the apartment while Monsieur Jaubourg was ill, and took these papers?" "No, Monsieur le Comte," replied the servant eagerly, "it isn't possible." The gleam that flashed from his eyes betrayed an alarm that was not feigned. It was not for himself that he was afraid. He had nothing to do with the horrible deed. But, in that case, who was it? as M. de Claviers had said with a groan--who?