ecide
whether he was a genuine wood carver--or--or something else."

"I see," admired Tignol. "Well?"

"As it turned out, I didn't find him, I haven't seen him yet. He was away
on a trip when I got to Brussels, away on this trip that will bring him to
Paris to-morrow, so I missed him and--it's just as well I did!"

"You got facts about him?"

"Yes, I got facts about him; not the kind of facts I expected to get,
either. I saw the place where he boards, this Adolph Groener. In fact, I
stopped there, and I talked to the woman who runs it, a sharp-eyed young
widow with a smooth tongue; and I saw the place where he works; it's a
wood-carving shop, all right, and I talked to the men there--two big strong
fellows with jolly red faces, and--well--" he hesitated.

"Well?"

The detective crossed his arms and faced the old man with a grim, searching
look.

"Papa Tignol," he said impressively, "they all tell a simple, straight
story. His name _is_ Adolf Groener, he _does_ live in Brussels, he makes
his living at wood carving, and the widow who runs the confounded boarding
house knows all about this girl Alice."

Tignol rubbed his nose reflectively. "It was a long shot, anyway."

"What would _you_ have done?" questioned the other sharply.

"Why," answered Tignol slowly, while his shrewd eyes twinkled, "I--I'd have
cussed a little and--had a couple of drinks and--come back to Paris."

Coquenil sat silent frowning. "I wasn't much better. After that first day I
was ready to drop the thing, I admit it, only I went for a walk that
night--and there's a lot in walking. I wandered for hours through that nice
little town of Brussels, in the crowd and then alone, and the more I
thought the more I came back to the same idea, _he can't be a wood
carver!_"

"You couldn't prove it, but you knew it," chuckled the old man.

Coquenil nodded. "So I kept on through the second day. I saw more people
and asked more questions, then I saw the same people again and tried to
trip them up, but I didn't get ahead an inch. Groener was a wood carver,
and he stayed a wood carver."

"It began to look bad, eh?"

Coquenil stopped short and said earnestly: "Papa Tignol, when this case is
over and forgotten, when this man has gone where he belongs, and I know
where that is"--he brought his hand down sideways swiftly--"I shall have
the lesson of this Brussels search cut on a block of stone and set in my
study wall. Oh, I've learned the lesson before,