men. What sort of women were they?"

"Oh! women of no account whatever!"

"Were they well dressed?"

"On the contrary, very miserably."

"Well, give me a description of them."

"They were tall and powerfully built, and indeed, as it was Shrove
Sunday, I first of all took them for men in disguise. They had hands
like shoulders of mutton, gruff voices, and very black hair. They were
as dark as mulattoes--"

"Enough!" interrupted the magistrate, "I require no further proof of
your mendacity. These women were short, and one of them was remarkably
fair."

"I swear to you, my good sir--"

"Do not declare it upon oath. I shall be forced to confront you with an
honest man, who will tell you to your face that you are a liar!"

The widow did not reply, and there was a moment's silence. M. Segmuller
determined to deal a decisive blow. "Do you also affirm that you had
nothing of a compromising character in the pocket of your apron?" he
asked.

"Nothing--you may have it examined; it was left in the house."

"Then you still persist in your system," resumed M. Segmuller. "Believe
me, you are wrong. Reflect--it rests with you to go to the Assize Court
as a witness, or an accomplice."

Although the widow seemed crushed by this unexpected blow, the
magistrate did not add another word. Her deposition was read over to
her, she signed it, and was then led away.

M. Segmuller immediately seated himself at his desk, filled up a blank
form and handed it to his clerk, saying: "This is an order for the
governor of the Depot. Tell him to send the supposed murderer here at
once."

X

If it is difficult to extort a confession from a man interested in
preserving silence and persuaded that no proofs can be produced against
him, it is a yet more arduous task to make a woman, similarly situated,
speak the truth. As they say at the Palais de Justice, one might as well
try to make the devil confess.

The examination of the Widow Chupin had been conducted with the greatest
possible care by M. Segmuller, who was as skilful in managing his
questions as a tried general in maneuvering his troops.

However, all that he had discovered was that the landlady of the
Poivriere was conniving with the murderer. The motive of her connivance
was yet unknown, and the murderer's identity still a mystery. Both M.
Segmuller and Lecoq were nevertheless of the opinion that the old hag
knew everything. "It is almost certain," remarked the magistra