eems to me," said he.

"I beg you to excuse me I don't agree with you," returned M. Lecoq.
"This matter may be a very grave one. What is the most serious
evidence against Guespin? The money found in his pocket. Let us
suppose for a moment that night before last, at ten o'clock, he
changed a one-thousand-franc note in Paris. Could the obtaining
of that note have been the motive of the crime at Valfeuillu? No,
for up to that hour the crime had not been committed. Where could
it have come from? That is no concern of mine, at present. But if
my theory is correct, justice will be forced to agree that the
several hundred francs found in Guespin's possession can and must
be the change for the note."

"That is only a theory," urged M. Domini in an irritated tone.

"That is true; but one which may turn out a certainty. It remains
for me to ask this man how Guespin carried away the articles which
he bought? Did he simply slip them into his pocket, or did he have
them done up in a bundle, and if so, how?"

The detective spoke in a sharp, hard, freezing tone, with a bitter
raillery in it, frightening his Corbeil colleague out of his
assurance.

"I don't know," stammered the latter. "They didn't tell me--I
thought--"

M. Lecoq raised his hands as if to call the heavens to witness: in
his heart, he was charmed with this fine occasion to revenge himself
for M. Domini's disdain. He could not, dared not say anything to
the judge; but he had the right to banter the agent and visit his
wrath upon him.

"Ah so, my lad," said he, "what did you go to Paris for? To show
Guespin's picture and detail the crime to the people at Vulcan's
Forges? They ought to be very grateful to you; but Madame Petit,
Monsieur Plantat's housekeeper, would have done as much."

At this stroke the man began to get angry; he frowned, and in his
bluffest tone, began:

"Look here now, you--"

"Ta, ta, ta," interrupted M. Lecoq. "Let me alone, and know who
is talking to you. I am Monsieur Lecoq."

The effect of the famous detective's name on his antagonist was
magical. He naturally laid down his arms and surrendered,
straightway becoming respectful and obsequious. It almost flattered
him to be roughly handled by such a celebrity. He muttered, in an
abashed and admiring tone:

"What, is it possible? You, Monsieur Lecoq!"

"Yes, it is I, young man; but console yourself; I bear no grudge
against you. You don't know your trade, but you have done me a
ser