rs said, she arose
and went about the room, arranging everything as it should be in the
presence of death. She removed all traces of the illness, put away the
medicine bottles, burnt some sugar upon the fire shovel, and, on a table
covered with a white cloth at the head of the bed, placed some lighted
candles, a crucifix with holy water, and a branch of palm.

CHAPTER XVII.

Greatly troubled and perplexed by Mademoiselle d'Arlange's revelations,
M. Daburon was ascending the stairs that led to the offices of the
investigating magistrates, when he saw old Tabaret coming towards him.
The sight pleased him, and he at once called out: "M. Tabaret!"

But the old fellow, who showed signs of the most intense agitation, was
scarcely disposed to stop, or to lose a single minute.

"You must excuse me, sir," he said, bowing, "but I am expected at home."

"I hope, however--"

"Oh, he is innocent," interrupted old Tabaret. "I have already some
proofs; and before three days--But you are going to see Gevrol's man
with the earrings. He is very cunning, Gevrol; I misjudged him."

And without listening to another word, he hurried away, jumping down
three steps at a times, at the risk of breaking his neck.

M. Daburon, greatly disappointed, also hastened on.

In the passage, on a bench of rough wood before his office door, Albert
sat awaiting him, under the charge of a Garde de Paris.

"You will be summoned immediately, sir," said the magistrate to the
prisoner, as he opened his door.

In the office, Constant was talking with a skinny little man, who
might have been taken, from his dress, for a well-to-do inhabitant of
Batignolles, had it not been for the enormous pin in imitation gold
which shone in his cravat, and betrayed the detective.

"You received my letters?" asked M. Daburon of his clerk.

"Your orders have been executed, sir; the prisoner is without, and here
is M. Martin, who this moment arrived from the neighbourhood of the
Invalides."

"That is well," said the magistrate in a satisfied tone. And, turning
towards the detective, "Well, M. Martin," he asked, "what did you see?"

"The walls had been scaled, sir."

"Lately?"

"Five or six days ago."

"You are sure of this?"

"As sure as I am that I see M. Constant at this moment mending his pen."

"The marks are plain?"

"As plain as the nose on my face, sir, if I may so express myself. The
thief--it was done by a thief, I imagine," continued M. Martin