“Ah, sir,” replied the young detective, “I have a fresh proof of that mysterious accomplice’s skill.  The permit that was used yesterday to see young Chupin was in the name of his mother’s sister, a woman named Rose Pitard.  A visiting card was given her more than a week ago, in compliance with a request indorsed by the commissary of police of her district.”

The magistrate’s surprise was so intense that it imparted to his face an almost ludicrous expression.  “Is this aunt also in the plot?” he murmured.

“I don’t think so,” replied Lecoq, shaking his head.  “At all events, it wasn’t she who went to the prison parlor yesterday.  The clerks at the Prefecture remember the widow’s sister very well, and gave me a full description of her.  She’s a woman over five feet high, with a very dark complexion; and very wrinkled and weatherbeaten about the face.  She’s quite sixty years old; whereas, yesterday’s visitor was short and fair, and not more than forty-five.”

“If that’s the case,” interrupted M. Segmuller, “this visitor must be one of our fugitives.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Who do you suppose she was, then?”

“Why, the landlady of the Hotel de Mariembourg—­that clever woman who succeeded so well in deceiving me.  But she had better take care!  There are means of verifying my suspicions.”

The magistrate scarcely heard Lecoq’s last words, so enraged was he at the inconceivable audacity and devotion displayed by so many people:  all of whom were apparently willing to run the greatest risks so long as they could only assure the murderer’s incognito.

“But how could the accomplice have known of the existence of this permit?” he asked after a pause.

“Oh, nothing could be easier, sir,” replied Lecoq.  “When the Widow Chupin and the accomplice had that interview at the station-house near the Barriere d’Italie, they both realized the necessity of warning Polyte.  While trying to devise some means of getting to him, the old woman remembered her sister’s visiting card, and the man made some excuse to borrow it.”

“Yes, such must be the case,” said M. Segmuller, approvingly.  “It will be necessary to ascertain, however—­”

“And I will ascertain,” interrupted Lecoq, with a resolute air, “if you will only intrust the matter to me, sir.  If you will authorize me I will have two spies on the watch before to-night, one in the Rue de la Butte-aux-Cailles, and the other at the door of the Hotel de Mariembourg.  If the accomplice ventured to visit Toinon or Madame Milner he would be arrested; and then we should have our turn!”

However, there was no time to waste in vain words and idle boasting.  Lecoq therefore checked himself, and took up his hat preparatory to departure.  “Now,” said he, “I must ask you, sir, for my liberty; if you have any orders, you will find a trusty messenger in the corridor, Father Absinthe, one of my colleagues.  I want to find out something about Lacheneur’s letter and the diamond earring.”