And what a night it had
been! How much had happened since he walked with his dog to Notre-Dame the
evening before! Here was the whole course of his life changed, yes, and his
prospects put in jeopardy by this extraordinary decision. How could he
explain what he had done to his wise old mother? How could he unsay all
that he had said to her a few days before when he had shown her that this
trip to Brazil was quite for the best and bade her a fond farewell? Could
he explain it to anyone, even to himself? Did he honestly believe all the
plausible things he had said to Pougeot and the others about this crime?
Was it really the wonderful affair he had made out? After all, what had he
acted on? A girl's dream and an odd coincidence. Was that enough? Was that
enough to make a man alter his whole life and face extraordinary danger?
_Was it enough?_

Extraordinary danger! _Why_ did this sense of imminent peril haunt him and
fascinate him? What was there in this crime that made it different from
many other crimes on which he had been engaged? Those holes through the
wall? Well, yes, he had never seen anything quite like that. And the
billiard player's motive in boring the holes and the woman's role and the
intricacy and ingenuity of the murderer's plan--all these offered an
extraordinary problem. And it certainly was strange that this
candle-selling girl with the dreams and the purplish eyes had appeared
again as the suspected American's sweetheart! He had heard this from Papa
Tignol, and how Alice had stood ready to brave everything for her lover
when Gibelin marched him off to prison. Poor Gibelin!

So Coquenil's thoughts ran along as he neared the Place de l'Etoile. Well,
it was too late to draw back. He had made his decision and he must abide by
it, his commission was signed, his duty lay before him. By nine o'clock he
must be at the Palais de Justice to report to Hauteville. No use going
home. Better have a rubdown and a cold plunge at the _haman_, then a turn
on the mat with the professional wrestler, and then a few hours sleep. That
would put him in shape for the day's work with its main business of running
down this woman in the case, this lady of the cloak and leather bag, whose
name and address he fortunately had. Ah, he looked forward to his interview
with her! And he must prepare for it!

Coquenil was just glancing about for a cab to the Turkish bath place, in
fact he was signaling one that he saw jogging up the Aven