, but not much, for it's very
expensive!"

The concierge was right. Old Tabaret was running after the lady in the
blue brougham.

"She will tell me all," he thought, and with a bound he was in the
street. He reached it just in time to see the blue brougham turn the
corner of the Rue St. Lazare.

"Heavens!" he murmured. "I shall lose sight of her, and yet she can tell
me the truth."

He was in one of those states of nervous excitement which engender
prodigies. He ran to the end of the Rue St. Lazare as rapidly as if he
had been a young man of twenty.

Joy! He saw the blue brougham a short distance from him in the Rue du
Havre, stopped in the midst of a block of carriages.

"I have her," said he to himself. He looked all about him, but there was
not an empty cab to be seen. Gladly would he have cried, like Richard
the III., "My kingdom for a cab!"

The brougham got out of the entanglement, and started off rapidly
towards the Rue Tronchet. The old fellow followed.

He kept his ground. The brougham gained but little upon him.

While running in the middle of the street, at the same time looking out
for a cab, he kept saying to himself: "Hurry on, old fellow, hurry on.
When one has no brains, one must use one's legs. Why didn't you think to
get this woman's address from Clergeot? You must hurry yourself, my old
friend, you must hurry yourself! When one goes in for being a detective,
one should be fit for the profession, and have the shanks of a deer."

But he was losing ground, plainly losing ground. He was only halfway
down the Rue Tronchet, and quite tired out; he felt that his legs could
not carry him a hundred steps farther, and the brougham had almost
reached the Madeleine.

At last an open cab, going in the same direction as himself, passed by.
He made a sign, more despairing than any drowning man ever made. The
sign was seen. He made a supreme effort, and with a bound jumped into
the vehicle without touching the step.

"There," he gasped, "that blue brougham, twenty francs!"

"All right!" replied the coachman, nodding.

And he covered his ill-conditioned horse with vigorous blows, muttering,
"A jealous husband following his wife; that's evident. Gee up!"

As for old Tabaret, he was a long time recovering himself, his strength
was almost exhausted.

For more than a minute, he could not catch his breath. They were soon
on the Boulevards. He stood up in the cab leaning against the driver's
seat.

"I