woman with large feet in carrying her companion. The latter must have
been really ill, for the accomplice took off his hat and used it in
brushing the snow off this log. Then, thinking the surface was not
yet dry enough, he wiped it with the skirt of his overcoat. Were these
civilities pure gallantry, or the usual attentions of an inferior? I
have asked myself that question. This much, however, is certain,
while the woman with the small feet was recovering her strength, half
reclining upon this board, the other took the accomplice a little on
one side, five or six steps away to the left, just beside that enormous
block of granite. There she talked with him, and, as he listened, the
man leaned upon the snow-covered stone. His hand left a very distinct
imprint there. Then, as the conversation continued, he rested his elbow
upon the snowy surface."

Like all men of limited intelligence, Father Absinthe had suddenly
passed from unreasoning distrust to unquestioning confidence.
Henceforth, he could believe anything for the very same reason that
had, at first, made him believe nothing. Having no idea of the bounds
of human reasoning and penetration, he saw no limits to the conjectural
genius of his companion. With perfect faith, therefore, he inquired:
"And what was the accomplice saying to the woman with the broad shoes?"

Lecoq smiled at this simplicity, but the other did not see him do so.
"It is rather difficult for me to answer that question," replied the
young detective, "I think, however, that the woman was explaining to
the man the immensity and imminence of the danger that threatened his
companion, and that they were trying to devise some means to rescue him
from it. Perhaps she brought him orders given by the murderer. It
is certain that she ended by beseeching the accomplice to run to the
Poivriere and see what was passing there. And he did so, for his tracks