Then Marie went uninterruptedly on.

“She stood in front of the desk, m’sieur; she searched eagerly for papers, reading and discarding several. Then she found some, which she saw with satisfaction, and hastily concealed in her pocket. Miss Morton is a lady who yet has pockets in her gowns. With the papers in her pocket, then, Miss Morton looks about carefully, and, thinking herself unobserved, creeps, but stealthily, to her own room. There⁠—m’sieur, I was obliged to peep at the keyhole⁠—there she lighted a fire in her grate, and burned those papers. With my eyes I saw her. Never would I have told, for it was not my affair, but that I fear for Miss Dupuy. It is in the air that she knows secrets concerning Miss Van Norman’s death. Ah, if one would know secrets, one should question Miss Morton.”

“This is a grave charge you bring against the lady, Marie,” said Fessenden.

“Yes, monsieur, but it is true.”