"Have you examined the dead woman's finger-nails, M. Gevrol? No. Well,
do so, and then tell me whether I am mistaken. The woman, now dead,
we come to the object of her assassination. What did this well-dressed
young gentleman want? Money? Valuables? No! no! a hundred times no! What
he wanted, what he sought, and what he found, were papers, documents,
letters, which he knew to be in the possession of the victim. To find
them, he overturned everything, upset the cupboards, unfolded the linen,
broke open the secretary, of which he could not find the key, and even
emptied the mattress of the bed. At last he found these documents. And
then do you know what he did with them? Why, burned them, of course; not
in the fire-place, but in the little stove in the front room. His end
accomplished, what does he do next? He flies, carrying with him all
that he finds valuable, to baffle detection, by suggesting a robbery. He
wrapped everything he found worth taking in the napkin which was to have
served him at dinner, and blowing out the candle, he fled, locking the
door on the outside, and throwing the key into a ditch. And that is
all."

"M. Tabaret," said the magistrate, "your investigation is admirable; and
I am persuaded your inferences are correct."

"Ah!" cried Lecoq, "is he not colossal, my old Tirauclair?"

"Pyramidal!" cried Gevrol ironically. "I fear, however, your
well-dressed young man must have been just a little embarrassed in
carrying a bundle covered with a snow white napkin, which could be so
easily seen from a distance.

"He did not carry it a hundred leagues," responded old Tabaret. "You may
well believe, that, to reach the railway station, he was not fool enough