st and to know what the sole
means of which he spoke were, which might be successful in preventing
a trial and saving Laurence, but he did not dare to do so.

The detective bent over his desk lost in thought. He held a pencil
in his hand and mechanically drew fantastic figures on a large sheet
of white paper which lay before him. He suddenly came out of his
revery. He had just solved a last difficulty; his plan was now
entire and complete. He glanced at the clock.

"Two o'clock," cried he, "and I have an appointment between three
and four with Madame Charman about Jenny."

"I am at your disposal," returned his guest.

"All right. When Jenny is disposed of we must look after Tremorel;
so let's take our measures to finish it up to-day."

"What! do you hope to do everything to-day--"

"Certainly. Rapidity is above all necessary in our profession. It
often takes a month to regain an hour lost. We've a chance now of
catching Hector by surprise; to-morrow it will be too late. Either
we shall have him within four-and-twenty hours or we must change
our batteries. Each of my three men has a carriage and a good
horse; they may be able to finish with the upholsterers within an
hour from now. If I calculate aright, we shall have the address
in an hour, or at most in two hours, and then we will act."

Lecoq, as he spoke, took a sheet of paper surmounted by his arms out
of his portfolio, and rapidly wrote several lines.

"See here," said he, "what I've written to one of my lieutenants."

"MONSIEUR JOB--
"Get together six or eight of our men at once and take them to the
wine merchant's at the corner of the Rue des Martyrs and the Rue
Lamartine; await my orders there."

"Why there and not here?"

"Because we must avoid needless excursions. At the place I have
designated we are only two steps from Madame Charman's and near
Tremorel's retreat; for the wretch has hired his rooms in the
quarter of Notre Dame de Lorette."

M. Plantat gave an exclamation of surprise.

"What makes you think that?"

The detective smiled, as if the question seemed foolish to him.

"Don't you recollect that the envelope of the letter addressed by
Mademoiselle Courtois to her family to announce her suicide bore
the Paris postmark, and that of the branch office of Rue St. Lazare?
Now listen to this: On leaving her aunt's house, Laurence must have
gone directly to Tremorel's apartments, the address of which he had
given her, and where he had pro