If he could only have given some startling proofs of his energy or
of his penetration! But, after all, what had he accomplished? Was the
mystery solved? Was his success more than problematical? When one thread
is drawn out, the skein is not untangled. This night would undoubtedly
decide his future as a detective, so he swore that if he could not
conquer his vanity, he would, at least, compel himself to conceal it.
Hence, it was in a very modest tone that he said to his companion: "We
have done all that we can do outside, now, would it not be wise to busy
ourselves with the inside of the house?"

Everything looked exactly in the same state as when the two men left the
room. A candle, with a charred smoking wick, cast its flickering light
upon the same scene of disorder, revealing to view the rigid features of
the three victims. Without losing a moment, Lecoq began to pick up and
study the various objects scattered over the floor. Some of these still
remained intact. The Widow Chupin had recoiled from the expense of a
tiled floor, judging the bare ground upon which the cabin was built
quite good enough for the feet of her customers. This ground, which must
originally have been well beaten down, had, by constant use and damp,
become well-nigh as muddy as the soil outside.

The first fruits of Lecoq's search were a large salad-bowl and a big
iron spoon, the latter so twisted and bent that it had evidently been
used as a weapon during the conflict. On inspecting the bowl, it became
evident that when the quarrel began the victims were regaling themselves
with the familiar mixture of water, wine, and sugar, known round about
the barrieres as vin a la Frangaise. After the salad-bowl, the two men
picked up five of the weighty glasses ordinarily used in wine-shops, and
which, while looking as though they would contain half a bottle, are
in point of fact so thick at the bottom that they hold next to nothing.