here a crime has just been committed," said a famous detective,
"burn the feet." M. Lecoq seemed exasperated, like a true artist,
before the gross, pretentious, and ridiculous work of some green
and bungling scholar.

"These are a parcel of vulgar ruffians, truly! able ones, certainly;
but they don't know their trade yet, the wretches."

M. Lecoq, indignant, ate three or four lozenges at a mouthful.

"Come, now," said Plantat, in a paternally severe tone. "Don't
let's get angry. The people have failed in address, no doubt; but
reflect that they could not, in their calculations, take account
of the craft of a man like you."

M. Lecoq, who had the vanity which all actors possess, was flattered
by the compliment, and but poorly dissimulated an expression of
pleasure.

"We must be indulgent; come now," pursued Plantat. "Besides," he
paused a moment to give more weight to what he was going to say,
"besides, you haven't seen everything yet."

No one could tell when M. Lecoq was playing a comedy. He did not
always know, himself. This great artist, devoted to his art,
practised the feigning of all the emotions of the human soul, just
as he accustomed himself to wearing all sorts of costumes. He was
very indignant against the assassins, and gesticulated about in
great excitement; but he never ceased to watch Plantat slyly, and
the last words of the latter made him prick up his ears.

"Let's see the rest, then," said he.

As he followed his worthy comrade to the garden, he renewed his
confidences to the dear defunct.

"Confound this old bundle of mystery! We can't take this obstinate
fellow by surprise, that's clear. He'll give us the word of the
riddle when we have guessed it; not before. He is as strong as we,
my darling; he only needs a little practice. But look you--if he
has found something which has escaped us, he must have previous
information, that we don't know of."

Nothing had been disturbed in the garden.

"See here, Monsieur Lecoq," said the old justice of the peace, as he
followed a winding pathway which led to the river. "It was here that
one of the count's slippers was found; below there, a little to the
right of these geraniums, his silk handkerchief was picked up."

They reached the river-bank, and lifted, with great care, the planks
which had been placed there to preserve the foot-prints.

"We suppose," said M. Plantat, "that the countess, in her flight,
succeeded in getting to this spot; and t