quietly, "is also occupied by Michael
Korosakoff."

"He is the most loyal, the most reliable soldier of the Tsar."

"No one is ever sure of anything, my dear Monsieur Koupriane."

"Oh, I am sure of a man like that."

"No man is ever sure of any man, my dear Monsieur Koupriane."

"I am, in every case, for those I employ."

"You are wrong."

"What do you say?"

"Something that can serve you in the enterprise you are going to
undertake, because I trust you can catch the murderer right in his nest.
To do that, I'll not conceal from you that I think your agents will have
to be enormously clever. They will have to watch the datcha des Iles at
night, without anyone possibly suspecting it. No more maroon coats with
false astrakhan trimmings, eh? But Apaches, Apaches on the wartrail, who
blend themselves with the ground, with the trees, with the stones in the
roadway. But among those Apaches don't send that agent of your Secret
Service who watched the window while the assassin climbed to it."

"What?"

"Why, these climbs that you can read the proofs of on the wall and on
the iron forgings of the balcony went on while your agents, night and
day, were watching the villa. Have you noticed, monsieur, that it was
always the same agent who took the post at night, behind the villa,
under the window? General Trebassof's book in which he kept a statement
of the exact disposal of each of your men during the period of siege was
most instructive on that point. The other posts changed in turn, but the
same agent, when he was among the guard, demanded always that same post,
which was not disputed by anybody, since it is no fun to pass the hours
of the night behind a wall, in an empty field. The others much preferred
to roll away the time watching in the villa or in front of the lodge,
where vodka and Crimean wine, kwass and pivo, kirsch and tchi, never ran
short. That agent's name is Touman."

"Touman! Impossible! He is one of the best agents from Kiew. He was
recommended by Gounsovski."

Rouletabille chuckled.

"Yes, yes, yes," grumbled the Chief of Police. "Someone always laughs
when his name is mentioned."

Koupriane had turned red. He rose, opened the door, gave a long
direction in Russian, and returned to his chair.

"Now," said he, "go ahead and tell me all the details of the poison and
the grapes the marshal of the court brought. I'm listening."

Rouletabille told him very briefly and without drawing any deductions