The old man would have been glad to verify this statement for himself,
as he said, but Lecoq was in a hurry. "Let us go on, let us go on!" said
he. "You can verify my assertions some other time."

They left the garden and followed the footprints which led them toward
the outer boulevards, inclining somewhat in the direction of the Rue de
Patay. There was now no longer any need of close attention. No one save
the fugitives had crossed this lonely waste since the last fall of snow.
A child could have followed the track, so clear and distinct it was.
Four series of footprints, very unlike in character, formed the track;
two of these had evidently been left by the women; the other two, one
going and one returning, had been made by the man. On several occasions
the latter had placed his foot exactly on the footprints left by the two
women, half effacing them, thus dispelling all doubt as to the precise
moment of his approach.

About a hundred yards from the Poivriere, Lecoq suddenly seized his
colleague's arm. "Halt!" he exclaimed, "we have reached a good place; I
can see unmistakable proofs."

The spot, all unenclosed as it was, was evidently utilized by some
builder for the storage of various kinds of lumber. The ground was
strewn with large blocks of granite, some chiseled, some in the rough,
with numerous long planks and logs of wood in their midst. In front of
one of these logs, the surface of which had been evidently wiped, all
the various footprints came together, mingling confusedly.

"Here," declared the young detective, "our fugitives met the man and
took counsel with him. One of the women, the one with the little feet,