At the Iena bridge Marmus had a pain in the stomach. He heard the
hoarse voice of a cab driver. Marmus thought that he was ill and let
himself be ushered into the cab. He made himself comfortable in it.

When the driver asked, "Where?" Marmus replied quietly:

"Home."

"Where is your home, Monsieur?" asked the driver.

"Number three," Marmus replied.

"What street?" asked the driver.

"Ah, you are right, my friend. But this is extraordinary," he said,
taking the driver into his confidence. "I have been so busy comparing
the hyoides and the caracoides--yes, that's it. I will catch Sinard in
the act. At the next session of the Institute he will have to yield to
evidence."

The driver wrapped his ragged cloak around him. Resignedly, he was
saying to himself, "I have seen many odd folks, but this one--" He
heard the word "Institute."

"The Institute, Monsieur?" he asked.

"Yes, my friend, the Institute," replied Marmus.

"Well he wears the red ribbon," said the driver to himself. "Perhaps