And this letter, so astonishing from the pen of an imperial prefect, was a sort of revenge for all the poor people for whom the police had laid such odious traps; it would remind Fouche of all the Licquets and Foisons who in the exercise of justice found matter for repugnant comedies.  It was surprising that Licquet had had no hand in the affair of La Delivrande.  Had he breathed it to Real?  It is possible, though there is no indication of his interference, albeit his manner is recognised in the scenario of the snare to which d’Ache fell a victim, and in the fact that he appeared at the end, coming from Rouen with his secretary Dupont, and the husband of the woman Levasseur who was said to have been d’Ache’s mistress.

On the morning of September 23d, a meeting took place at seven o’clock at the Mayor of Luc’s house.  The doctors who had held the autopsy were there, Captain Mancel and Foison, who was in great agitation, although he tried to hide it, at having to assist at the exhumation of his victim.  They started for the cemetery, and the grave-digger did his work.  After fifteen minutes the shovel struck the board that covered d’Ache’s body, and soon after the corpse was seen.  The beard had grown thick and strong.  Foison gazed at it.  It was indeed the man with whom he had travelled a whole night, chatting amiably while each step brought him nearer to the assassins who were waiting for him.  Licquet moved about with complete self-control, talking of the time when he had known the man who lay there, his face swollen but severe, his nose thin as an eagle’s beak, his lips tightened.  Suddenly the detective remembered a sign that he had formerly noted, and ordered the dead man’s boots to be removed.  All present could then see that d’Ache’s “toe-nails were so grown over into his flesh that he walked on them.”  Foison also saw, and wishing to brave this corpse, more terrifying for him than for any one else, he stooped and opened the dead lips with the end of his cane.  A wave of fetid air struck the assassin full in the face, and he fell backward with a cry of fear.

This incident terminated the enquiry; the body was returned to the earth, and those who had been present at the exhumation started for La Delivrande.  Foison walked alone behind the others; no one spoke to him, and when they arrived at the mayor’s, where all had been invited to dine, he remained on the threshold which he dared not cross, knowing that for the rest of his life he would never again enter the house of an honest man.

The same evening at Caen, where everything was known, although Fouche was still looking for Morin-Cochu, the vengeance of the corpse annihilating Foison was the topic of all conversations.  There was a certain gaiety in the town, that was proud of its prefect’s attitude.  When the curtain went up at the theatre, while all the young “swells” were in the orchestra talking of the event that was agitating “society,” they saw a blonde woman with a red scarf on her shoulders