be public, and so
prepared for it, and was even ready to die if necessary."

M. Plantat shuddered; a conversation which he had had with Laurence
occurred to him. She had asked him, he remembered, about certain
poisonous plants which he was cultivating, and had been anxious to
know how the poisonous juices could be extracted from them.

"Yes," said he, "she has thought of dying."

"Well," resumed the detective, "the count took her in one of the
moods when these sad thoughts haunted the poor girl, and was easily
able to complete his work of ruin. She undoubtedly told him that
she preferred death to shame, and he proved to her that, being in
the condition in which she was, she had no right to kill herself.
He said that he was very unhappy; and that not being free, he could
not repair his fault; but he offered to sacrifice his life for her.
What should she do to save both of them? Abandon her parents, make
them believe that she had committed suicide, while he, on his side,
would desert his house and his wife. Doubtless she resisted for
awhile; but she finally consented to everything; she fled, and
copied and posted the infamous letter dictated by her lover."

The doctor was convinced.

"Yes," he muttered, "those are doubtless the means he employed."

"But what an idiot he was," resumed M. Lecoq, "not to perceive that
the strange coincidence between his disappearance and Laurence's
suicide would be remarked! He said to himself, 'Probably people
will think that I, as well as my wife, have been murdered; and the
law, having its victim in Guespin, will not look for any other.'"

M. Plantat made a gesture of impotent rage.

"Ah," cried he, "and we know not where the wretch has hid himself
and Laurence."

The detective took him by the arm and pressed it.

"Reassure yourself," said he, coolly. "We'll find him, or my name's
not Lecoq; and to be honest, I must say that our task does not seem
to me a difficult one."

Several timid knocks at the door interrupted the speaker. It was
late, and the household was already awake and about. Mme. Petit
in her anxiety and curiosity had put her ear to the key-hole at
least ten times, but in vain.

"What can they be up to in there?" said she to Louis. "Here they've
been shut up these twelve hours without eating or drinking. At all
events I'll get breakfast."

It was not Mme. Petit, however, who dared to knock on the door; but
Louis, the gardener, who came to tell his master of t