"He told you so, no doubt, but there you are! Upon my word, if I
didn't know Inspector Vérot, I should think he was trying to play a
game with me."

"It's a piece of carelessness, Monsieur le Préfet, at the worst."

"No doubt, a piece of carelessness, but I'm surprised at him. It doesn't
do to be careless when the lives of two people are at stake. For he must
have told you that there is a double murder planned for to-night?"

"Yes, Monsieur le Préfet, and under particularly alarming conditions;
infernal was the word he used."

M. Desmalions was walking up and down the room, with his hands behind his
back. He stopped at a small table.

"What's this little parcel addressed to me? 'Monsieur le Préfet de
Police--to be opened in case of accident.'"

"Oh, yes," said the secretary, "I was forgetting! That's from Inspector
Vérot, too; something of importance, he said, and serving to complete and
explain the contents of the letter."

"Well," said M. Desmalions, who could not help laughing, "the letter
certainly needs explaining; and, though there's no question of
'accident,' I may as well open the parcel."

As he spoke, he cut the string and discovered, under the paper, a box, a
little cardboard box, which might have come from a druggist, but which
was soiled and spoiled by the use to which it had been put.