His earlier efforts at investigation proved unsuccessful. At the first
establishment he visited, the stable boys, who were not yet up, swore at
him roundly. In the second, he found the grooms at work, but none of the
drivers had as yet put in an appearance. Moreover, the owner refused to
show him the books upon which are recorded--or should be recorded--each
driver's daily engagements. Lecoq was beginning to despair, when at
about half-past seven o'clock he reached an establishment just beyond
the fortifications belonging to a man named Trigault. Here he learned
that on Sunday night, or rather, early on Monday morning, one of the
drivers had been accosted on his way home by some persons who succeeded
in persuading him to drive them back into Paris.

This driver, who was then in the courtyard harnessing his horse, proved
to be a little old man, with a ruddy complexion, and a pair of small
eyes full of cunning. Lecoq walked up to him at once.

"Was it you," he asked, "who, on Sunday night or rather on Monday,
between one and two in the morning, drove a couple of women from the Rue
du Chevaleret into Paris?"

The driver looked up, and surveying Lecoq attentively, cautiously
replied: "Perhaps."

"It is a positive answer that I want."

"Aha!" said the old man sneeringly, "you know two ladies who have lost
something in a cab, and so--"

The young detective trembled with satisfaction. This man was certainly