hesitate about replying to the advertisement — about demanding the Ourang-Outang.  He will reason thus:  — ’I am innocent; I am poor; my Ourang-Outang is of great value — to one in my circumstances a fortune of itself — why should I lose it through idle apprehensions of danger?  Here it is, within my grasp.  It was found in the Bois de Boulogne — at a vast distance from the scene of that butchery.  How can it ever be suspected that a brute beast should have done the deed?  The police are at fault — they have failed to procure the slightest clew.  Should they even trace the animal, it would be impossible to prove me cognizant of the murder, or to implicate me in guilt on account of that cognizance.  Above all, I am known. The advertiser designates me as the possessor of the beast.  I am not sure to what limit his knowledge may extend.  Should I avoid claiming a property of so great value, which it is known that I possess, I will render the animal at least, liable to suspicion.  It is not my policy to attract attention either to myself or to the beast.  I will answer the advertisement, get the Ourang-Outang, and keep it close until this matter has blown over.’ "

At this moment we heard a step upon the stairs.

“Be ready,” said Dupin, “with your pistols, but neither use them nor show them until at a signal from myself.”

The front door of the house had been left open, and the visiter had entered, without ringing, and advanced several steps upon the staircase.  Now, however, he seemed to hesitate.  Presently we heard him descending.  Dupin was moving quickly to the door, when we again heard him coming up.  He did not turn back a second time, but stepped up with decision, and rapped at the door of our chamber.

“Come in,” said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty tone.

A man entered.  He was a sailor, evidently, — a tall, stout, and muscular-looking person, with a certain dare-devil expression of countenance, not altogether unprepossessing.  His face, greatly sunburnt, was more than half hidden by whisker and mustachio. He had with him a huge oaken cudgel, but appeared to be otherwise unarmed.  He bowed awkwardly, and bade us “good evening,” in French accents, which, although somewhat Neufchatelish, were still sufficiently indicative of a Parisian origin.

“Sit down, my freind,” said Dupin.  “I suppose you have called about the Ourang-Outang.  Upon my word, I almost envy you the possession of him; a remarkably fine, and no doubt a very valuable animal.  How old do you suppose him to be?”

The sailor drew a long breath, with the air of a man relieved of some intolerable burden, and then replied, in an assured tone: 

“I have no way of telling — but he can’t be more than four or five years old.  Have you got him here?”

“Oh no, we had no conveniences for keeping him here.  He is at a livery stable in the Rue Dubourg, just by.  You can get him in the morning.  Of course you are prepared to identify the property?”