hurling her down in the position in which you see her.  This short struggle is indicated by the posture of the body; for, squatting down and being struck in the back, it is naturally on her back that she ought to have fallen.  The murderer used a sharp narrow weapon, which was, unless I am deceived, the end of a foil, sharpened, and with the button broken off.  By wiping the weapon upon his victim’s skirt, the assassin leaves us this indication.  He was not, however, hurt in the struggle.  The victim must have clung with a death-grip to his hands; but, as he had not taken off his lavender kid gloves,—­”

“Gloves!  Why this is romance,” exclaimed Gevrol.

“Have you examined the dead woman’s finger-nails, M. Gevrol?  No.  Well, do so, and then tell me whether I am mistaken.  The woman, now dead, we come to the object of her assassination.  What did this well-dressed young gentleman want?  Money?  Valuables?  No! no! a hundred times no!  What he wanted, what he sought, and what he found, were papers, documents, letters, which he knew to be in the possession of the victim.  To find them, he overturned everything, upset the cupboards, unfolded the linen, broke open the secretary, of which he could not find the key, and even emptied the mattress of the bed.  At last he found these documents.  And then do you know what he did with them?  Why, burned them, of course; not in the fire-place, but in the little stove in the front room.  His end accomplished, what does he do next?  He flies, carrying with him all that he finds valuable, to baffle detection, by suggesting a robbery.  He wrapped everything he found worth taking in the napkin which was to have served him at dinner, and blowing out the candle, he fled, locking the door on the outside, and throwing the key into a ditch.  And that is all.”

“M.  Tabaret,” said the magistrate, “your investigation is admirable; and I am persuaded your inferences are correct.”

“Ah!” cried Lecoq, “is he not colossal, my old Tirauclair?”

“Pyramidal!” cried Gevrol ironically.  “I fear, however, your well-dressed young man must have been just a little embarrassed in carrying a bundle covered with a snow white napkin, which could be so easily seen from a distance.

“He did not carry it a hundred leagues,” responded old Tabaret.  “You may well believe, that, to reach the railway station, he was not fool enough to take the omnibus.  No, he returned on foot by the shortest way, which borders the river.  Now on reaching the Seine, unless he is more knowing than I take him to be, his first care was to throw this tell-tale bundle into the water.”

“Do you believe so, M. Tirauclair?” asked Gevrol.

“I don’t mind making a bet on it; and the best evidence of my belief is, that I have sent three men, under the surveillance of a gendarme, to drag the Seine at the nearest spot from here.  If they succeed in finding the bundle, I have promised them a recompense.”