he problem which had been put to him.

"I understand," replied he, "and can explain Guespin's obstinate
silence. I should be perfectly amazed if he decided to speak just
now."

M. Domini misconstrued the meaning of this; he thought he saw in it
a covert intention to banter him.

"He has had a night to reflect upon it," he answered. "Is not twelve
hours enough to mature a system of defence?"

The detective shook his head doubtfully.

"It is certain that he does not need it," said he. "Our prisoner
doesn't trouble himself about a system of defence, that I'll
swear to."

"He keeps quiet, because he hasn't been able to get up a plausible
story."

"No, no; believe me, he isn't trying to get up one. In my opinion,
Guespin is a victim; that is, I suspect Tremorel of having set an
infamous trap for him, into which he has fallen, and in which he
sees himself so completely caught that he thinks it useless to
struggle. The poor wretch is convinced that the more he resists
the more surely he will tighten the web that is woven around him."

"I think so, too," said M. Plantat.

"The true criminal, Count Hector," resumed the detective, "lost his
presence of mind at the last moment, and thus lost all the advantages
which his previous caution had gained. Don't let us forget that he
is an able man, perfidious enough to mature the most infamous
stratagems, and unscrupulous enough to execute them. He knows that
justice must have its victims, one for every crime; he does not
forget that the police, as long as it has not the criminal, is
always on the search with eye and ear open; and he has thrown us
Guespin as a huntsman, closely pressed, throws his glove to the bear
that is close upon him. Perhaps he thought that the innocent man
would not be in danger of his life; at all events he hoped to gain
time by this ruse; while the bear is smelling and turning over the
glove, the huntsman gains ground, escapes and reaches his place of
refuge; that was what Tremorel proposed to do."

The Corbeil policeman was now undoubtedly Lecoq's most enthusiastic
listener. Goulard literally drank in his chief's words. He had
never heard any of his colleagues express themselves with such
fervor and authority; he had had no idea of such eloquence, and he
stood erect, as if some of the admiration which he saw in all the
faces were reflected back on him. He grew in his own esteem as he
thought that he was a soldier in an army commanded by such genera