But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. "Kidnapped, and sent to France by one uncle, it was my lot to fall into the hands of another,—my father's own brother, the Marshal Gaucher de Chatillon; to whom, and to the Cardinal Dubois, I owed all my good fortune. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. Did you really doubt if I knew?” “No. ” “You have seen her—since last night?” “Yes. " "What?" he barked. ” “The inference is, then,” the detective said smoothly, “that this man obtained admission to your rooms by means of a false key, that he burnt some papers here and shot himself within a few moments of your return.
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