lectric bell.

"That American, Kittredge, who was arrested last night?" he said to the
clerk. "Was he put in a cell?"

"No, sir, he's in with the other prisoners."

"Ah! Have him brought over here in about an hour for the preliminary
examination. Make out his commitment papers for the Sante. He is to be _au
secret_."

"Yes, sir." The clerk bowed and withdrew.

"You really think this young man innocent, do you?" remarked the judge to
Coquenil.

"It's easier to think him innocent than guilty," answered the detective.

"Easier?"

"If he is guilty we must grant him an extraordinary double personality. The
amiable lover becomes a desperate criminal able to conceive and carry out
the most intricate murder of our time. I don't believe it. If he is guilty
he must have had the key to that alleyway door. How did he get it? He must
have known, that the 'tall blonde' who had engaged Number Seven would not
occupy it. How did he know that? And he must have relations with the man
who met me on the Champs Elysees. How could that be? Remember, he's a poor
devil of a foreigner living in a Latin-Quarter attic. The thing isn't
reasonable."

"But the pistol?"

"The pistol may not really be his. Gibelin's whole story needs looking
into."

The judge nodded. "Of course. I leave that to you. Still, I shall feel
better satisfied when we have compared the soles of his boots with the
plaster casts of those alleyway footprints."

"So shall I," said Coquenil. "Suppose I see the workman who is finishing
the casts?" he suggested; "it won't take long, and perhaps I can bring them
back with me."

"Excellent," approved Hauteville, and he bowed with grave friendliness as
the detective left the room.

Then, for nearly an hour, the judge buried himself in the details of this
case, turning his trained mind, with absorbed concentration, upon the
papers at hand, reviewing the evidence, comparing the various reports and
opinions, and, in the light of clear reason, searching for a plausible
theory of the crime. He also began notes of questions that he wished to ask
Kittredge, and was deep in these when the clerk entered to inform him that
Coquenil and Gibelin had returned.

"Let them come in at once," directed Hauteville, and presently the two
detectives were again before him.

"Well?" he inquired with a quick glance.

Coquenil was silent, but Gibelin replied exultingly: "We have found a pair
of Kittredge's boots that absolutely correspond