He immediately went back into the house, closely followed by his colleague, and began an examination of the footprints round about the door that Gevrol had forced open.  Labor lost.  There was but little snow on the ground near the entrance of the hovel, and so many persons had passed in and out that Lecoq could discover nothing.  What a disappointment after his patient hopes!  Lecoq could have cried with rage.  He saw the opportunity for which he had sighed so long indefinitely postponed.  He fancied he could hear Gevrol’s coarse sarcasms.  “Enough of this,” he murmured, under his breath.  “The General was right, and I am a fool!”

He was so positively convinced that one could do no more than discover the circumstances of some commonplace, vulgar broil, that he began to wonder if it would not be wise to renounce his search and take a nap, while awaiting the coming of the commissary of police.

But Father Absinthe was no longer of this opinion.  This worthy man, who was far from suspecting the nature of his companion’s reflections could not explain his inaction.  “Come! my boy,” said he, “have you lost your wits?  This is losing time, it seems to me.  The authorities will arrive in a few hours, and what report shall we be able to give them!  As for me, if you desire to go to sleep, I shall pursue the investigation alone.”

Disappointed as he was, the young police officer could not repress a smile.  He recognized his own exhortation of a few moments before.  It was the old man who had suddenly become intrepid.  “To work, then!” he sighed, like a man who, while foreseeing defeat, wishes, at least, to have no cause for self-reproach.

He found it, however, extremely difficult to follow the footprints in the open air by the uncertain light of a candle, which was extinguished by the least breath of wind.  “I wonder if there is a lantern in the house,” he said.  “If we could only lay our hands upon one!”

They searched everywhere, and, at last, upstairs in the Widow Chupin’s own room, they found a well-trimmed lantern, so small and compact that it certainly had never been intended for honest purposes.

“A regular burglar’s implement,” said Father Absinthe, with a coarse laugh.

The implement was useful in any case; as both men agreed when they returned to the garden and recommenced their investigations systematically.  They advanced very slowly and with extreme caution.  The old man carefully held the lantern in the best position, while Lecoq, on his knees, studied each footprint with the attention of a chiromancer professing to read the future in the hand of a rich client.  This new examination assured Lecoq that he had been correct in his first supposition.  It was plain that two women had left the Poivriere by the back door.  They had started off running, as was proved by the length of the steps and the shape of the footprints.

The difference in the tracks left by the two fugitives was so remarkable that it did not escape Father Absinthe’s eyes.  “Sapristi!” he muttered; “one of these jades can boast of having a pretty foot at the end of her leg!”