“And now?”

“Now,” responded the detective, “with the certainty that something besides booty might have been the object of the search, I am not far from thinking that the guilty man is he whose body is being searched for—­the Count Hector de Tremorel.”

M. Plantat and Dr. Gendron had divined the name; but neither had as yet dared to utter his suspicions.  They awaited this name of Tremorel; and yet, pronounced as it was in the middle of the night, in this great sombre room, by this at least strange personage, it made them shudder with an indescribable fright.

“Observe,” resumed M. Lecoq, “what I say; I believe it to be so.  In my eyes, the count’s guilt is only as yet extremely probable.  Let us see if we three can reach the certainty of it.  You see, gentlemen, the inquest of a crime is nothing more nor less than the solution of a problem.  Given the crime, proved, patent, you commence by seeking out all the circumstances, whether serious or superficial; the details and the particulars.  When these have been carefully gathered, you classify them, and put them in their order and date.  You thus know the victim, the crime, and the circumstances; it remains to find the third term of the problem, that is, x, the unknown quantity—­the guilty party.  The task is a difficult one, but not so difficult as is imagined.  The object is to find a man whose guilt explains all the circumstances, all the details found—­all, understand me.  Find such a man, and it is probable—­and in nine cases out of ten, the probability becomes a reality—­that you hold the perpetrator of the crime.”

So clear had been M. Lecoq’s exposition, so logical his argument, that his hearers could not repress an admiring exclamation: 

“Very good!  Very good!”

“Let us then examine together if the assumed guilt of the Count de Tremorel explains all the circumstances of the crime at Valfeuillu.”

He was about to continue when Dr. Gendron, who sat near the window, rose abruptly.

“There is someone in the garden,” said he.

All approached the window.  The weather was glorious, the night very clear, and a large open space lay before the library window; they looked out, but saw no one.

“You are mistaken, Doctor,” said Plantat, resuming his arm-chair.

M. Lecoq continued: 

“Now let us suppose that, under the influence of certain events that we will examine presently, Monsieur de Tremorel had made up his mind to get rid of his wife.  The crime once resolved upon, it was clear that the count must have reflected, and sought out the means of committing it with impunity; he must have weighed the circumstances, and estimated the perils of his act.  Let us admit, also, that the events which led him to this extremity were such that he feared to be disturbed, and that he also feared that a search would be made for certain things, even should his wife die a natural death.”