"That's my great mistake," said Perenna to himself. "It doesn't do to entrust a job to people who do not suspect its importance."
His investigations led to the discovery of some traces of footsteps on the gravel, traces not sufficiently plain to enable him to distinguish the shape of the shoes that had left them, yet distinct enough to confirm his supposition. The scoundrels had been that way.
Suddenly he gave a movement of delight. Against the border of the path, among the leaves of a little clump of rhododendrons, he saw something red, the shape of which at once struck him. He stooped. It was an apple, the fourth apple, the one whose absence from the fruit dish he had noticed.
"Excellent!" he said. "Hippolyte Fauville did not eat it. One of them must have carried it away—a fit of appe
