If he could only have given some startling proofs of his energy or of his penetration!  But, after all, what had he accomplished?  Was the mystery solved?  Was his success more than problematical?  When one thread is drawn out, the skein is not untangled.  This night would undoubtedly decide his future as a detective, so he swore that if he could not conquer his vanity, he would, at least, compel himself to conceal it.  Hence, it was in a very modest tone that he said to his companion:  “We have done all that we can do outside, now, would it not be wise to busy ourselves with the inside of the house?”

Everything looked exactly in the same state as when the two men left the room.  A candle, with a charred smoking wick, cast its flickering light upon the same scene of disorder, revealing to view the rigid features of the three victims.  Without losing a moment, Lecoq began to pick up and study the various objects scattered over the floor.  Some of these still remained intact.  The Widow Chupin had recoiled from the expense of a tiled floor, judging the bare ground upon which the cabin was built quite good enough for the feet of her customers.  This ground, which must originally have been well beaten down, had, by constant use and damp, become well-nigh as muddy as the soil outside.

The first fruits of Lecoq’s search were a large salad-bowl and a big iron spoon, the latter so twisted and bent that it had evidently been used as a weapon during the conflict.  On inspecting the bowl, it became evident that when the quarrel began the victims were regaling themselves with the familiar mixture of water, wine, and sugar, known round about the barrieres as vin a la Frangaise.  After the salad-bowl, the two men picked up five of the weighty glasses ordinarily used in wine-shops, and which, while looking as though they would contain half a bottle, are in point of fact so thick at the bottom that they hold next to nothing.  Three of these glasses were broken, two were whole.  All of them had contained wine—­the same vin a la Frangaise.  This was plain, but for greater surety, Lecoq applied his tongue to the bluish mixture remaining in the bottom of each glass.  “The deuce!” he muttered, with an astonished air.

Then he examined successively the surfaces of the three overturned tables.  Upon one of these, the one nearest the fireplace and the window, the still wet marks of the five glasses, of the salad-bowl, and even of the spoons could be distinguished.  Lecoq very properly regarded this circumstance as a matter of the greatest importance, for it proved clearly enough that five persons had emptied the salad-bowl in company.  Who were these five persons?

“Oh! oh!” suddenly exclaimed Lecoq in two entirely different tones.  “Then the two women could not have been with the murderer!”