--over a
few sous, think! And Monsieur Podvin said it was not worth while, for
so little, to bring the police down on the neighborhood. It spoiled
business. For the twelve sous Monsieur Podvin said he'd lose a
thousand francs."

"M. Podvin was undoubtedly right."

"Yes; but le Cochon said it was worth a thousand francs to hear the
man squeal."

"So!"

"Yes. And then Monsieur Podvin wanted to take it out of his share."

"So?"

"Yes; and so they quarrelled dreadfully."

"And Madame Podvin,--she heard this?"

"Madame is not deaf, monsieur."

"Ah!"

"She was at the zinc."

"Truly, Madame Podvin may become of value," muttered Inspector Loup.

"Monsieur?"

"Oh! And so you've kept this to your little self all this time. Why?"

"I was afraid; then----"

"I understand. But you got bravely over all this as soon as this
miscreant undertook to put you out of the way, eh?"

"It was not that, monsieur, for what I would be avenged."

"So you confess to the motive?"

"I would surely be revenged, monsieur," she avowed, frankly.

"A mighty small woman, but still a woman, and sure Francaise,"
observed the inspector.

"He killed my only friend, monsieur."

"What! Another murder? Le Cochon?"

"Yes."

"Tres bien! Go on, mon enfant; you grow more and more interesting!"

"It was only this morning, monsieur," said the child, again reminded
of her irreparable loss.

"This morning, eh? The report is not yet in.--There, now, don't
blubber, little one.--Another murder for le Cochon! Pardieu! we shall
have his head!"

"Truly?" Fouchette brightened up immediately at this prospect.

"The infamous wretch!"

"Yes; go on, monsieur. You grow more interesting!"

"What an infernally impudent child!" observed the inspector to
himself, yet aloud.

"Monsieur?"

"What--how about this morning's murder?"

"Le Cochon's dreadful knife! Oh! I would love to see him strapped to
the plank and his head in the basket! Yes, ten thousand curses on----"

"La! la! la! Mon Dieu! will you never get on? Who was le Cochon's
victim this time?"

"Tartar, monsieur,--yes! Ah! Oh!"

"Tartar? Tartar? Why, that's the name of----"

"Yes, monsieur, the dog! Poor Tartar!"

"So le Cochon killed your dog, eh?"

"Yes, monsieur," sobbed Fouchette.

Monsieur l'Inspecteur was silent for a while, thoughtfully regarding
the grieving child with his fishy eyes.

"After all, it was murder," he said. "Had this man committed no other
crime, he