“Why do you think that, my boy?” inquired Father Absinthe.

“I could almost swear it.  How, unless they were in the habit of coming to this den, could they have been aware of the existence of this gate?  Could they have discovered it on such a dark, foggy night?  No; for I, who can, without boasting, say that I have good eyes—­I did not see it.”

“Ah! yes, that is true!”

“These two women, however, came here without hesitating, in a straight line; and note that to do this, it was necessary for them to cross the garden diagonally.”

The veteran would have given something if he could have found some objection to offer; but unfortunately he could find none.  “Upon my word!” he exclaimed, “yours is a droll way of proceeding.  You are only a conscript; I am a veteran in the service, and have assisted in more affairs of this sort than you are years old, but never have I seen—­”

“Nonsense!” interrupted Lecoq, “you will see much more.  For example, I can prove to you that although the women knew the exact position of the gate, the man knew it only by hearsay.”

“The proof!”

“The fact is easily demonstrated.  Study the man’s footprints, and you, who are very sharp, will see at once that he deviated greatly from the straight course.  He was in such doubt that he was obliged to search for the gate with his hand stretched out before him—­and his fingers have left their imprint on the thin covering of snow that lies upon the upper railing of the fence.”

The old man would have been glad to verify this statement for himself, as he said, but Lecoq was in a hurry.  “Let us go on, let us go on!” said he.  “You can verify my assertions some other time.”

They left the garden and followed the footprints which led them toward the outer boulevards, inclining somewhat in the direction of the Rue de Patay.  There was now no longer any need of close attention.  No one save the fugitives had crossed this lonely waste since the last fall of snow.  A child could have followed the track, so clear and distinct it was.  Four series of footprints, very unlike in character, formed the track; two of these had evidently been left by the women; the other two, one going and one returning, had been made by the man.  On several occasions the latter had placed his foot exactly on the footprints left by the two women, half effacing them, thus dispelling all doubt as to the precise moment of his approach.

About a hundred yards from the Poivriere, Lecoq suddenly seized his colleague’s arm.  “Halt!” he exclaimed, “we have reached a good place; I can see unmistakable proofs.”

The spot, all unenclosed as it was, was evidently utilized by some builder for the storage of various kinds of lumber.  The ground was strewn with large blocks of granite, some chiseled, some in the rough, with numerous long planks and logs of wood in their midst.  In front of one of these logs, the surface of which had been evidently wiped, all the various footprints came together, mingling confusedly.