any gelatine about you?"

"No."

"Nor have I. You might as well have counseled me to pour melted lead
upon the footprints to fix them."

They continued their way, and five minutes later, without having
exchanged another word, they reentered the Widow Chupin's hovel. The
first impulse of the older man would have been to rest to breathe, but
Lecoq did not give him time to do so.

"Make haste: get me a dish--a plate--anything!" cried the young
detective, "and bring me some water; gather together all the boards and
old boxes you can find lying about."

While his companion was obeying him, Lecoq armed himself with a fragment
of one of the broken bottles, and began scraping away furiously at the
plastered wall that separated the two rooms.

His mind, disconcerted at first by the imminence of this unexpected
catastrophe, a fall of rain, had now regained its equilibrium. He had
reflected, he had thought of a way by which failure might possibly be
averted--and he hoped for ultimate success. When he had accumulated some
seven or eight handfuls of fine plaster dust, he mixed one-half with a
little water so as to form a thin paste, leaving the rest untouched on
the side of the plate.

"Now, papa," said he, "come and hold the light for me."