start from this block of granite."

"And only to think," exclaimed Father Absinthe, "that we were in the
hovel at that very moment. A word from Gevrol, and we might have had
handcuffs on the whole gang! How unfortunate!"

Lecoq was not sufficiently disinterested to share his companion's
regret. On the contrary, he was very thankful for Gevrol's blunder. Had
it not been for that, how would he ever have found an opportunity of
investigating an affair that grew more and more mysterious as his search
proceeded, but which he hoped to fathom finally.

"To conclude," he resumed, "the accomplice soon returned, he had
witnessed the scene, and was evidently afraid. He feared that the
thought of exploring the premises might enter the minds of the police.
It was to the lady with small feet that he addressed himself. He
explained the necessity of flight, and told her that even a moment's
delay might be fatal. At his words, she summoned all her energy; she
rose and hastened away, clinging to the arm of her companion. Did
the man indicate the route they were to take, or did they know it
themselves? This much is certain, he accompanied them some distance, in
order to watch over them. But besides protecting these women, he had a
still more sacred duty to perform--that of succoring his accomplice, if
possible. He retraced his steps, passed by here once more, and the
last footprint that I can discover leads in the direction of the Rue
du Chateau des Rentiers. He wished to know what would become of the
murderer, and went to place himself where he might see him pass by with
his captors."

Like a dilettante who can scarcely restrain his applause until the close