e seamstress.

"You are giving us great assistance," he said to her politely. "I shall
speak of you to the chief."

"Oh, sir," she murmured in confusion.

"But one point is not quite clear. Just look across again. You see two
open windows, the end window and the one next to it. Isn't it possible that
this bright thing was thrown from the window _next_ to the end one?"

"No, no."

"They are both alike and, both being open, one might easily make a
mistake."

She shook her head positively. "I have made no mistake, _it was the end
window_."

Just then Coquenil heard the click of the door opposite and, looking over,
he saw Papa Tignol beckoning to him.

"Excuse me," he said and hurried across the street.

"It's there," whispered Tignol.

"The pistol?"

"Yes."

"You remembered what I told you?"

The old man looked hurt. "Of course I did. I haven't touched it. Nothing
could make me touch it."

"Good! Papa Tignol, I want you to stay here until I come back. Things are
marching along."

Again he rejoined the seamstress and, with his serious, friendly air, he
began: "And you still think that shining object was thrown from the
_second_ window?"

"No, no! How stupid you are!" And then in confusion: "I beg a thousand
pardons, I am nervous. I thought I told you plainly it was the end window."

"Thanks, my good woman," replied M. Paul. "Now go right back to your room
and don't breathe a word of this to anyone."

"But," she stammered, "would monsieur be so kind as to say what the bright
object was?"

The detective bent nearer and whispered mysteriously: "It was a comb, a
silver comb!"

"_Mon Dieu!_ A silver comb!" exclaimed the unsuspecting spinster.

"Now back to your room and finish brushing your hair," he urged, and the
woman hurried away trembling with excitement.

A few moments later Coquenil and the commissary and Papa Tignol were
standing in the courtyard near two green tubs of foliage plants between
which the pistol had fallen. The doorkeeper of the house, a crabbed
individual who had only become mildly respectful when he learned that he
was dealing with the police, had joined them, his crustiness tempered by
curiosity.

"See here," said the detective, addressing him, "do you want to earn five
francs?" The doorkeeper brightened. "I'll make it ten", continued the
other, "if you do exactly what I say. You are to take a cab, here is the
money, and drive to Notre-Dame. At the right of the church is a