"A misfortune!"

"A very great misfortune. Do you not perceive that the weather has
undesirably changed. It is evident that the wind is now coming from the
south. The fog has disappeared, but the sky is cloudy and threatening.
It will rain in less than an hour."

"A few drops are falling now; I just felt one."

These words produced on Lecoq much the same effect as a whip-up on a
spirited horse. He sprang forward, and, adopting a still more hurried
pace, exclaimed: "Let us make haste! let us make haste!"

The old police agent followed him as in duty bound; but his mind was, if
possible, still more troubled by the replies of his young companion. A
great misfortune! The wind from the south! Rain! He did not, he could
not see the connection.

Greatly puzzled, and not a little anxious, Father Absinthe asked for an
explanation, although he had but little more breath than was absolutely
necessary to enable him to continue the forced march he was making.
"Upon my word," said he, "I have racked my brains--"

His companion took pity on his anxiety. "What!" he exclaimed, as he
still hastened forward, "you do not understand that our investigation,
my success, and your reward, are dependent upon those black clouds which
the wind is driving toward us!"

"Oh!"