Let any one explain who can this very common phenomenon:  A crime is committed; justice arrives, wrapped in mystery; the police are still ignorant of almost everything; and yet details of the most minute character are already circulated about the streets.

“So,” said a cook, “that tall dark fellow with the whiskers is the count’s true son!”

“You are right,” said one of the footmen who had accompanied M. de Commarin; “as for the other, he is no more his son than Jean here; who, by the way, will be kicked out of doors, if he is caught in this part of the house with his dirty working-shoes on.”

“What a romance,” exclaimed Jean, supremely indifferent to the danger which threatened him.

“Such things constantly occur in great families,” said the cook.

“How ever did it happen?”

“Well, you see, one day, long ago, when the countess who is now dead was out walking with her little son, who was about six months old, the child was stolen by gypsies.  The poor lady was full of grief; but above all, was greatly afraid of her husband, who was not over kind.  What did she do?  She purchased a brat from a woman, who happened to be passing; and, never having noticed his child, the count has never known the difference.”

“But the assassination!”

“That’s very simple.  When the woman saw her brat in such a nice berth, she bled him finely, and has kept up a system of blackmailing all along.  The viscount had nothing left for himself.  So he resolved at last to put an end to it, and come to a final settling with her.”

“And the other, who is up there, the dark fellow?”

The orator would have gone on, without doubt, giving the most satisfactory explanations of everything, if he had not been interrupted by the entrance of M. Lubin, who came from the Palais in company of young Joseph.  His success, so brilliant up to this time, was cut short, just like that of a second-rate singer when the star of the evening comes on the stage.  The entire assembly turned towards Albert’s valet, all eyes questioning him.  He of course knew all, he was the man they wanted.  He did not take advantage of his position, and keep them waiting.

“What a rascal!” he exclaimed at first.  “What a villainous fellow is this Albert!”

He entirely did away with the “Mr.” and the “Viscount,” and met with general approval for doing so.

“However,” he added, “I always had my doubts.  The fellow didn’t please me by half.  You see now to what we are exposed every day in our profession, and it is dreadfully disagreeable.  The magistrate did not conceal it from me.  ‘M.  Lubin,’ said he, ’it is very sad for a man like you to have waited on such a scoundrel.’  For you must know, that, besides an old woman over eighty years old, he also assassinated a young girl of twelve.  The little child, the magistrate told me, was chopped into bits.”

“Ah!” put in Joseph; “he must have been a great fool.  Do people do those sort of things themselves when they are rich, and when there are so many poor devils who only ask to gain their living?”