s an avenue near the Champs
Elysees, the Avenue d'Eylau, or the Avenue d'Iena, I cannot be sure. I
didn't fix the thing in my mind because I had it in my pocket, and in the
work of the night it faded away."

"A great pity! Still, this man could neither have known that nor guessed
it. He took the address from you on a chance, but his chief purpose must
have been to impress you with his knowledge and his power."

Coquenil stared at his brown seal ring and then muttered savagely: "How did
he know the name of that infernal canary bird?"

The judge smiled. "He has established some very complete system of
surveillance that we must try to circumvent. For the moment we had better
decide upon immediate steps."

With this they turned to a fresh consideration of the case. Already the
machinery of justice had begun to move. Martinez's body and the weapon had
been taken to the morgue for an autopsy, the man's jewelry and money were
in the hands of the judge, and photographs of the scene of the tragedy
would be ready shortly as well as plaster impressions of the alleyway
footprints. An hour before, as arranged the previous night, Papa Tignol had
started out to search for Kittredge's lodgings, since the American, when
questioned by Gibelin at the prison, had obstinately refused to tell where
he lived and an examination of his quarters was a matter of immediate
importance.

It was not Papa Tignol, however, who was to furnish this information, but
the discomfited Gibelin whose presence in the outer office was at this
moment announced by the judge's clerk.

"Ask him to come in," said Hauteville, and a moment later Coquenil's fat,
red-haired rival entered with a smile that made his short mustache fairly
bristle in triumph.

"Ah, you have news for us!" exclaimed the judge.

Gibelin beamed. "I haven't wasted my time," he nodded. Then, with a
sarcastic glance at Coquenil: "The old school has its good points, after
all."

"No doubt," agreed Coquenil curtly.

"Although I am no longer in charge of this case," rasped the fat man, "I
suppose there is no objection to my rendering my distinguished associate,"
he bowed mockingly to M. Paul, "such assistance as is in my power."

"Of course not," replied Hauteville.

"I happened to hear that this American has a room on the Rue Racine and I
just looked in there."

"Ah!" said the judge, and Coquenil rubbed his glasses nervously. There is
no detective big-souled enough not to tingle with