habitues of the Poivriere," he had said, adding sententiously: "If all
these ruffians would kill one another, we might have some little peace."

He added that as the murderer had been arrested and placed in
confinement, there was nothing urgent about the case. Accordingly, the
commissary thought there was no harm in taking another nap and waiting
until morning before beginning the inquiry. He had seen the murderer,
reported the case to the prefecture, and now he was coming--leisurely
enough--accompanied by two physicians, appointed by the authorities
to draw up a _medico-legal_ report in all such cases. The party also
comprised a sergeant-major of the 53d regiment of infantry of the line,
who had been summoned by the commissary to identify, if possible, the
murdered man who wore a uniform, for if one might believe the number
engraved upon the buttons of his overcoat, he belonged to the 53d
regiment, now stationed at the neighboring fort.

As the party approached it was evident that Inspector Gevrol was even
less disturbed than the commissary. He whistled as he walked along,
flourishing his cane, which never left his hand, and already laughing
in his sleeve over the discomfiture of the presumptuous fool who had
desired to remain to glean, where he, the experienced and skilful
officer, had perceived nothing. As soon as he was within speaking
distance, the inspector called to Father Absinthe, who, after warning
Lecoq, remained on the threshold, leaning against the door-post, puffing
his pipe, as immovable as a sphinx.

"Ah, well, old man!" cried Gevrol, "have you any great melodrama, very
dark and very mysterious, to relate to us?"

"I have nothing to relate myself," replied the old detective, without