In conclusion, he placed on the magistrate’s desk some of the dirt he had scraped from the prisoner’s feet; at the same time depositing beside it a similar parcel of dust collected on the floor of the cell in which the murderer was confined at the Barriere d’Italie.

When Lecoq had explained the reasons that had led him to collect this soil, and the conclusions that might be drawn from a comparison of the two parcels, M. Segmuller, who had been listening attentively, at once exclaimed:  “You are right.  It may be that you have discovered a means to confound all the prisoner’s denials.  At all events, this is certainly a proof of surprising sagacity on your part.”

So it must have been, for Goguet, the clerk, nodded approvingly.  “Capital!” he murmured.  “I should never have thought of that.”

While he was talking, M. Segmuller had carefully placed all the so-called “articles of conviction” in a large drawer, from which they would not emerge until the trial.  “Now,” said he, “I understand the case well enough to examine the Widow Chupin.  We may gain some information from her.”

He was laying his hand upon the bell, when Lecoq stopped him with an almost supplicating gesture.  “I have one great favor to ask you, sir,” he observed.

“What is it?—­speak.”

“I should very much like to be present at this examination.  It takes so little, sometimes, to awaken a happy inspiration.”

Although the law says that the accused shall first of all be privately examined by the investigating magistrate assisted by his clerk, it also allows the presence of police agents.  Accordingly, M. Segmuller told Lecoq that he might remain.  At the same time he rang his bell; which was speedily answered by a messenger.

“Has the Widow Chupin been brought here, in compliance with my orders?” asked M. Segmuller.

“Yes, sir; she is in the gallery outside.”

“Let her come in then.”

An instant later the hostess of the Poivriere entered the room, bowing to the right and to the left.  This was not her first appearance before a magistrate, and she was not ignorant of the respect that is due to justice.  Accordingly, she had arrayed herself for her examination with the utmost care.  She had arranged her rebellious gray locks in smooth bandeaux, and her garments, although of common material, looked positively neat.  She had even persuaded one of the prison warders to buy her—­with the money she had about her at the time of her arrest—­a black crape cap, and a couple of white pocket-handkerchiefs, intending to deluge the latter with her tears, should the situation call for a pathetic display.

She was indeed far too knowing to rely solely on the mere artifices of dress; hence, she had also drawn upon her repertoire of grimaces for an innocent, sad, and yet resigned expression, well fitted, in her opinion, to win the sympathy and indulgence of the magistrate upon whom her fate would depend.