but their most minute researches resulted in discovering absolutely
nothing; not one piece of evidence to convict; not the faintest
indication which might serve as a point of departure. Even the dead
woman's papers, if she possessed any, had disappeared. Not a letter, not
a scrap of paper even, to be met with. From time to time Gevrol stopped
to swear or grumble. "Oh! it is cleverly done! It is a tiptop piece of
work! The scoundrel is a cool hand!"

"Well, what do you make of it?" at length demanded the investigating
magistrate.

"It is a drawn game monsieur," replied Gevrol. "We are baffled for the
present. The miscreant has taken his measures with great precaution;
but I will catch him. Before night, I shall have a dozen men in pursuit.
Besides, he is sure to fall into our hands. He has carried off the plate
and the jewels. He is lost!"

"Despite all that," said M. Daburon, "we are no further advanced than we
were this morning!"

"Well!" growled Gevrol. "A man can only do what he can!"

"Ah!" murmured Lecoq in a low tone, perfectly audible, however, "why is
not old Tirauclair here?"

"What could he do more than we have done?" retorted Gevrol, directing a
furious glance at his subordinate. Lecoq bowed his head and was silent,
inwardly delighted at having wounded his chief.

"Who is old Tirauclair?" asked M. Daburon. "It seems to me that I have