unworthy thought, it was because he was an honest man, and more than
that, because he was not displeased to have the opportunity to do Gevrol
a bad turn and punish him for his presumptuous folly.

"I must confess," he said with some embarrassment, "that the merit of
this investigation does not belong to me."

"To whom, then, shall I attribute it--to the inspector?" thought M.
d'Escorval, not without surprise, for having occasionally employed
Gevrol, he did not expect from him such ingenuity and sagacity as was
displayed in this report. "Is it you, then, who have conducted this
investigation so ably?" he asked.

"Upon my word, no!" responded Inspector Gevrol. "I, myself, am not
so clever as all that. I content myself with telling what I actually
discover; and I only give proofs when I have them in hand. May I be hung
if the grounds of this report have any existence save in the brains of
the man who imagined them." Perhaps the inspector really believed what
he said, being one of those persons who are blinded by vanity to such a
degree that, with the most convincing evidence before their eyes, they
obstinately deny it.

"And yet," insisted the magistrate, "these women whose footprints have
been detected must have existed. The accomplice who left the flakes of
wool adhering to the plank is a real being. This earring is a positive,
palpable proof."

Gevrol had hard work to refrain from shrugging his shoulders. "All this
can be satisfactorily explained," he said, "without a search of twelve
or fourteen hours. That the murderer had an accomplice is possible. The