_Answer._ "I can only tell you that when my mother was staying with me, at the beginning of May, it was agreed between us that she would put up at my house when she returned to Paris later on. Towards May 20th she wrote to me that she felt very ill, and at the same time gave me to understand that, yielding to Mme. Herr's wishes, she would put up at her house. I told her that if she came to me I would nurse her and that she would be attended by an excellent doctor--M. Acheray, who lived almost next door to us. I added that matters would be easier as regarded the call on M. Dennery if she were staying with me. I very much wanted to have my mother at home because at my sister's house she would have to climb five flights of stairs, and, further, because I wished Dr. Acheray to examine her, as he knew her well, having on other occasions acted as her doctor."
_Question._ "In any case, there is a most striking coincidence here. It is just about May 18th--that is, at the time when you settled down at Bellevue with the young Buissons, who seem to need your permanent presence at the time when your Paris home is disorganised--that you compel your mother to promise to stay with you during the forthcoming visit!"
_Answer._ "The Buisson children were not so ill that I had to be constantly near them at Vert-Logis. The main object in having them at Bellevue was that they should enjoy the fresh air of the country; and when I was away my daughter was perfectly capable of looking after them. As for my Paris home, how could it be 'disorganised' when my husband, my daughter and myself were there frequently!"
_In reply to a Question._ "When, on the Saturday, May 30th, I returned from Bellevue, I stopped, as I have said, at the chemist's to fetch the various medicines Dr. Acheray had prescribed for my mother. At Potin's I bought a lobster, a pot of mayonnaise sauce, some cakes and some fruit. Then I walked straight home. My husband and I ate lobster, but my mother ate only a bit of it; she preferred coffee and milk and a slice of buttered toast. At Vert-Logis that evening my daughter Marthe was alone with the two little Buissons and Mariette, the old cook. The children usually went to bed at nine, and Mariette, as a rule, retired afterwards. But that night she had of course to await M. Buisson's arrival.