however, is certain, while the woman with the small feet was recovering her strength, half reclining upon this board, the other took the accomplice a little on one side, five or six steps away to the left, just beside that enormous block of granite.  There she talked with him, and, as he listened, the man leaned upon the snow-covered stone.  His hand left a very distinct imprint there.  Then, as the conversation continued, he rested his elbow upon the snowy surface.”

Like all men of limited intelligence, Father Absinthe had suddenly passed from unreasoning distrust to unquestioning confidence.  Henceforth, he could believe anything for the very same reason that had, at first, made him believe nothing.  Having no idea of the bounds of human reasoning and penetration, he saw no limits to the conjectural genius of his companion.  With perfect faith, therefore, he inquired:  “And what was the accomplice saying to the woman with the broad shoes?”

Lecoq smiled at this simplicity, but the other did not see him do so.  “It is rather difficult for me to answer that question,” replied the young detective, “I think, however, that the woman was explaining to the man the immensity and imminence of the danger that threatened his companion, and that they were trying to devise some means to rescue him from it.  Perhaps she brought him orders given by the murderer.  It is certain that she ended by beseeching the accomplice to run to the Poivriere and see what was passing there.  And he did so, for his tracks start from this block of granite.”

“And only to think,” exclaimed Father Absinthe, “that we were in the hovel at that very moment.  A word from Gevrol, and we might have had handcuffs on the whole gang!  How unfortunate!”

Lecoq was not sufficiently disinterested to share his companion’s regret.  On the contrary, he was very thankful for Gevrol’s blunder.  Had it not been for that, how would he ever have found an opportunity of investigating an affair that grew more and more mysterious as his search proceeded, but which he hoped to fathom finally.

“To conclude,” he resumed, “the accomplice soon returned, he had witnessed the scene, and was evidently afraid.  He feared that the thought of exploring the premises might enter the minds of the police.  It was to the lady with small feet that he addressed himself.  He explained the necessity of flight, and told her that even a moment’s delay might be fatal.  At his words, she summoned all her energy; she rose and hastened away, clinging to the arm of her companion.  Did the man indicate the route they were to take, or did they know it themselves?  This much is certain, he accompanied them some distance, in order to watch over them.  But besides protecting these women, he had a still more sacred duty to perform—­that of succoring his accomplice, if possible.  He retraced his steps, passed by here once more, and the last footprint that I can discover leads in the direction of the Rue du Chateau des Rentiers.  He wished to know what would become of the murderer, and went to place himself where he might see him pass by with his captors.”