“And yet,” insisted the magistrate, “these women whose footprints have been detected must have existed.  The accomplice who left the flakes of wool adhering to the plank is a real being.  This earring is a positive, palpable proof.”

Gevrol had hard work to refrain from shrugging his shoulders.  “All this can be satisfactorily explained,” he said, “without a search of twelve or fourteen hours.  That the murderer had an accomplice is possible.  The presence of the women is very natural.  Wherever there are male thieves, you will find female thieves as well.  As for the diamond—­what does that prove?  That the scoundrels had just met with a stroke of good luck, that they had come here to divide their booty, and that the quarrel arose from the division.”

This was an explanation, and such a plausable one, that M. d’Escorval was silent, reflecting before he announced his decision.  “Decidedly,” he declared at last, “decidedly, I adopt the hypothesis set forth in the report.  Who prepared it?”

Gevrol’s face turned red with anger.  “One of my men,” he replied, “a clever, adroit fellow, Monsieur Lecoq.  Come forward, Lecoq, that the magistrate may see you.”

The young man advanced, his lips tightly compressed so as to conceal a smile of satisfaction which almost betrayed itself.

“My report, sir, is only a summary,” he began, “but I have certain ideas—­”

“Which you will acquaint me with, when I ask for them,” interrupted the magistrate.  And oblivious of Lecoq’s chagrin, he drew from his clerk’s portfolio two forms, which he filled up and handed to Gevrol, saying:  “Here are two orders; take them to the station, where the murderer and the landlady of this cabin are confined, and have them conducted to the prefecture, where they will be privately examined.”

Having given these directions, M. d’Escorval was turning toward the physicians, when Lecoq, at the risk of a second rebuff, interposed.  “May I venture, sir, to beg of you to confide this message to me?” he asked of the investigating magistrate.

“Impossible, I may have need of you here.”

“I desired, sir, to collect certain evidence and an opportunity to do so may not present itself again.”

The magistrate perhaps fathomed the young man’s motive.  “Then, let it be so,” he replied, “but after your task is completed you must wait for me at the prefecture, where I shall proceed as soon as I have finished here.  You may go.”

Lecoq did not wait for the order to be repeated.  He snatched up the papers, and hastened away.

He literally flew over the ground, and strange to say he no longer experienced any fatigue from the labors of the preceding night.  Never had he felt so strong and alert, either in body or mind.  He was very hopeful of success.  He had every confidence in himself, and his happiness would indeed have been complete if he had had another judge to deal with.  But M. d’Escorval overawed him to such a degree that he became almost paralyzed in his presence.  With what a disdainful glance the magistrate had surveyed him!  With what an imperious tone he had imposed silence upon him—­and that, too, when he had found his work deserving of commendation.