"Was she tall or short, stout or slender?"

"Between the two."

This was very vague. "And the other," asked Lecoq, "the neatly dressed
one?"

"The deuce! As for her, I did not notice her at all; all I know about
her is that she was very small."

"Would you recognize her if you met her again?"

"Good heavens! no."

The vehicle was now rolling along the Rue de Bourgogne. Half-way down
the street the driver pulled up, and, turning to Lecoq, exclaimed: "Here
we are. That's the house the hussies went into."

To draw off the silk handkerchief that served him as a muffler, to fold
it and slip it into his pocket, to spring to the ground and enter
the house indicated, was only the work of an instant for the young
detective.

In the concierge's little room he found an old woman knitting. Lecoq
bowed to her politely, and, displaying the silk handkerchief, exclaimed:
"Madame, I have come to return this article to one of your lodgers."

"To which one?"

"Really, I don't exactly know."