im in the
sixties, but his robust figure, the energetic decision of his movements,
and, above all, the piercing keenness of the glance which he cast about
him on entering the church, showed a powerful organization on which the
passage of years had made little or no impression. No doubt, he was in
search of the young fellow who had preceded him; but he did not commit
the mistake of entering the crowd, where he knew of course that the
youth had lost himself. Like a practised hunter, he saw that pursuit was
useless, and he was just about to leave the church when, after a short
organ prelude, the contralto of the signora delivering its solemn notes
gave forth that glorious harmony to which is sung the Litany of the
Virgin. The beauty of the voice, the beauty of the chant, the beauty
of the words of the sacred hymn, which the fine method of the singer
brought out distinctly, made a singular impression on the stalwart
stranger. Instead of leaving the church, he put himself in the shadow of
a column, against which he leaned as he stood; but as the last notes of
the divine canticle died away among the arches of the church, he knelt
on the pavement, and whoever had chanced to look that way would have
seen two heavy tears rolling slowly down his cheeks. The benediction
given, and the crowd dispersing, he rose, wiped his eyes, and,
muttering, "What a fool I am!" left the church. Then he went to the
Place Saint-Sulpice, and, beckoning to a coach on the stand, he said to
the driver,--

"Rue de Provence, my man, quick! there's fat in it."

Reaching the house, he went rapidly up the stairway, and rang at the
door of an apartment on the first floor.

"Is my aunt at home?" he inquired of the Negro who opened it. Then he
followed the man, and was presently ushered into a salon where the Negro
announced,--

"Monsieur de Saint-Esteve."

The salon which the famous chief of the detective police now entered was
remarkable for the luxury, but still more for the horribly bad taste,
of its appointments. Three women of advanced age were seated round a
card-table earnestly employed in a game of dominoes. Three glasses and
an empty silver bowl which gave forth a vinous odor showed that the
worship of double-sixes was not without its due libations.

"Good evening, mesdames," said the chief of police, sitting down; "for I
have something to say to each of you."

"We'll listen presently," said his aunt; "you can't interrupt the game.
It won't