“As that is so, my boys,” the inspector remarked, “two of you will remain here, and I will leave with the others.  I shall go and arouse the commissary of police, and inform him of the affair; he will take the matter in hand:  and we can then do whatever he commands.  My responsibility will be over, in any case.  So untie our prisoner’s legs and bind Mother Chupin’s hands, and we will drop them both at the station-house as we pass.”

The men hastened to obey, with the exception of the youngest among them, the same who had won the General’s passing praise.  He approached his chief, and motioning that he desired to speak with him, drew him outside the door.  When they were a few steps from the house, Gevrol asked him what he wanted.

“I wish to know, General, what you think of this affair.”

“I think, my boy, that four scoundrels encountered each other in this vile den.  They began to quarrel; and from words they came to blows.  One of them had a revolver, and he killed the others.  It is as clear as daylight.  According to his antecedents, and according to the antecedents of the victims, the assassin will be judged.  Perhaps society owes him some thanks.”

“And you think that any investigation—­any further search is unnecessary.”

“Entirely unnecessary.”

The younger man appeared to deliberate for a moment.  “It seems to me, General,” he at length replied, “that this affair is not perfectly clear.  Have you noticed the murderer, remarked his demeanor, and observed his look?  Have you been surprised as I have been—?”

“By what?”

“Ah, well! it seems to me—­I may, of course, be mistaken—­but I fancy that appearances are deceitful, and—­Yes, I suspect something.”

“Bah!—­explain yourself, please.”

“How can you explain the dog’s faculty of scent?”

Gevrol shrugged his shoulders.  “In short,” he replied, “you scent a melodrama here—­a rendezvous of gentlemen in disguise, here at the Poivriere, at Mother Chupin’s house.  Well, hunt after the mystery, my boy; search all you like, you have my permission.”

“What! you will allow me?”

“I not only allow you, I order you to do it.  You are going to remain here with any one of your comrades you may select.  And if you find anything that I have not seen, I will allow you to buy me a pair of spectacles.”

II

The young police agent to whom Gevrol abandoned what he thought an unnecessary investigation was a debutant in his profession.  His name was Lecoq.  He was some twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, almost beardless, very pale, with red lips, and an abundance of wavy black hair.  He was rather short but well proportioned; and each of his movements betrayed unusual energy.  There was nothing remarkable about his appearance, if we except his eyes, which sparkled brilliantly or grew extremely dull, according to his mood; and his nose, the large full nostrils of which had a surprising mobility.