I can be
neither right nor wrong by halves. Either all my inferences are
correct, or not one of them is. It's all, or nothing. If I am
right, Guespin has not been mixed up with this crime, at least
directly; for there isn't a single circumstance which suggests
outside aid. If, on the other hand, I am wrong--"

M. Lecoq paused. He seemed to have heard some unexpected noise
in the garden.

"But I am not wrong. I have still another charge against the count,
of which I haven't spoken, but which seems to be conclusive."

"Oh," cried the doctor, "what now?"

"Two certainties are better than one, and I always doubt. When I
was left alone a moment with Francois, the valet, I asked him if
he knew exactly the number of the count's shoes; he said yes, and
took me to a closet where the shoes are kept. A pair of boots,
with green Russia leather tops, which Francois was sure the count
had put on the previous morning, was missing. I looked for them
carefully everywhere, but could not find them. Again, the blue
cravat with white stripes which the count wore on the 8th, had also
disappeared."

"There," cried M. Plantat, "that is indisputable proof that your
supposition about the slippers and handkerchief was right."

"I think that the facts are sufficiently established to enable us
to go forward. Let's now consider the events which must have
decided--"

M. Lecoq again stopped, and seemed to be listening. All of a sudden,
without a word he jumped on the window-sill and from thence into the
garden, with the bound of a cat which pounces on a mouse. The noise
of a fall, a stifled cry, an oath, were heard, and then a stamping as
if a struggle were going on. The doctor and M. Plantat hastened to
the window. Day was breaking, the trees shivered in the fresh wind
of the early morning,--objects were vaguely visible without distinct
forms across the white mist which hangs, on summer nights, over the
valley of the Seine. In the middle of the lawn, at rapid intervals,
they heard the blunt noise of a clinched fist striking a living body,
and saw two men, or rather two phantoms, furiously swinging their
arms. Presently the two shapes formed but one, then they separated,
again to unite; one of the two fell, rose at once, and fell again.

"Don't disturb yourselves," cried M. Lecoq's voice. "I've got the
rogue."

The shadow of the detective, which was upright, bent over, and the
conflict was recommenced. The shadow stretched on the ground