"Twenty minutes of merely gentle rain, and our time and labor will be
lost. If it rains, the snow will melt, and then farewell to our proofs.
Let us get on--let us get on more quickly! You know very well that in
such cases words don't suffice. If we declare to the public prosecutor
that we have seen these footprints, he will ask, where? And what can we
say? If we swear by all the gods that we have seen the footprints of a
man and of two women, the investigating magistrate will say, 'Let me
see them.' And who will feel sheepish then? Father Absinthe and Lecoq.
Besides, Gevrol would not fail to declare that we were saying what was
not true, in order to enhance our own value, and humiliate him."

"What an idea!"

"Faster, papa, faster; you will have all day to-morrow to be indignant.
Perhaps it will not rain. In that case, these perfect, clear, and
easily recognizable footprints will prove the culprits' ruin. How can
we preserve them? By what process could we solidify them? I would deluge
them with my blood if that could only cause them to congeal."

Father Absinthe was just then thinking that his share of the labor had
hitherto been the least important; for he had merely held the lantern.
But here was a chance for him to acquire a real and substantial right to
the prospective reward. "I know a method," said he, "by which one could
preserve these marks in the snow."

At these words the younger man stopped short. "You know--you?" he
interrupted.

"Yes, I know," replied the old detective, with the evident satisfaction
of a man who has gained his revenge. "They invented a way at the time of