“You explored the floors beneath the carpets?”

“Beyond doubt.  We removed every carpet, and examined the boards with the microscope.”

“And the paper on the walls?”

“Yes.”

“You looked into the cellars?”

“We did.”

“Then,” I said, “you have been making a miscalculation, and the letter is not upon the premises, as you suppose.”

“I fear you are right there,” said the Prefect.  “And now, Dupin, what would you advise me to do?”

“To make a thorough re-search of the premises.”

“That is absolutely needless,” replied G—.  “I am not more sure that I breathe than I am that the letter is not at the Hotel.”

“I have no better advice to give you,” said Dupin.  “You have, of course, an accurate description of the letter?”

“Oh yes!” — And here the Prefect, producing a memorandum-book proceeded to read aloud a minute account of the internal, and especially of the external appearance of the missing document.  Soon after finishing the perusal of this description, he took his departure, more entirely depressed in spirits than I had ever known the good gentleman before.  In about a month afterwards he paid us another visit, and found us occupied very nearly as before.  He took a pipe and a chair and entered into some ordinary conversation.  At length I said, —

“Well, but G—­, what of the purloined letter?  I presume you have at last made up your mind that there is no such thing as overreaching the Minister?”

“Confound him, say I — yes; I made the re-examination, however, as Dupin suggested — but it was all labor lost, as I knew it would be.”

“How much was the reward offered, did you say?” asked Dupin.

“Why, a very great deal — a very liberal reward — I don’t like to say how much, precisely; but one thing I will say, that I wouldn’t mind giving my individual check for fifty thousand francs to any one who could obtain me that letter.  The fact is, it is becoming of more and more importance every day; and the reward has been lately doubled.  If it were trebled, however, I could do no more than I have done.”

“Why, yes,” said Dupin, drawlingly, between the whiffs of his meerschaum, “I really — think, G—­, you have not exerted yourself — to the utmost in this matter.  You might — do a little more, I think, eh?”

“How? — in what way?’

“Why — puff, puff — you might — puff, puff — employ counsel in the matter, eh? — puff, puff, puff.  Do you remember the story they tell of Abernethy?”

“No; hang Abernethy!”

“To be sure! hang him and welcome.  But, once upon a time, a certain rich miser conceived the design of spunging upon this Abernethy for a medical opinion.  Getting up, for this purpose, an ordinary conversation in a private company, he insinuated his case to the physician, as that of an imaginary individual.

" ‘We will suppose,’ said the miser, ’that his symptoms are such and such; now, doctor, what would you have directed him to take?’