g the first landing, and the door of the boudoir which led
into the chamber, he stopped, eagerly scanning, before he entered,
the position of the rooms.

Then he entered the boudoir, saying:

"Come; I don't see my way clear yet."

"But it seems to me," remarked the judge, "that we have already
important materials to aid your task. It is clear that Guespin,
if he is not an accomplice, at least knew something about the crime."

M. Lecoq had recourse to the portrait in the lozenge-box. It was
more than a glance, it was a confidence. He evidently said something
to the dear defunct, which he dared not say aloud.

"I see that Guespin is seriously compromised," resumed he. "Why
didn't he want to tell where he passed the night? But, then, public
opinion is against him, and I naturally distrust that."

The detective stood alone in the middle of the room, the rest, at
his request, remained at the threshold, and looking keenly about
him, searched for some explanation of the frightful disorder of the
apartment.

"Fools!" cried he, in an irritated tone, "double brutes! Because
they murder people so as to rob them, is no reason why they should
break everything in the house. Sharp folks don't smash up furniture;
they carry pretty picklocks, which work well and make no noise.
Idiots! one would say--"

He stopped with his mouth wide open.

"Eh! Not so bungling, after all, perhaps."

The witnesses of this scene remained motionless at the door,
following, with an interest mingled with surprise, the detective's
movements.

Kneeling down, he passed his flat palm over the thick carpet, among
the broken porcelain.

"It's damp; very damp. The tea was not all drunk, it seems, when
the cups were broken."

"Some tea might have remained in the teapot," suggested Plantat.

"I know it," answered M. Lecoq, "just what I was going to say. So
that this dampness cannot tell us the exact moment when the crime
was committed."

"But the clock does, and very exactly," interrupted the mayor.

"The mayor," said M. Domini, "in his notes, well explains that the
movements of the clock stopped when it fell."

"But see here," said M. Plantat, "it was the odd hour marked by
that clock that struck me. The hands point to twenty minutes past
three; yet we know that the countess was fully dressed, when she
was struck. Was she up taking tea at three in the morning? It's
hardly probable."

"I, too, was struck with that circumstance," returned M. L