other. This was the second time Licquet's attention had been attracted
by the name of Mme. de Combray. He had already read it, incidentally, in
the report of Flierle's examination, and with the instinct of a
detective, for whom a single word will often unravel a whole plot, he
had a sudden intuition that in it lay the key to the entire affair.
Tourlour's imprudent admission, which was to bring terrible catastrophes
on Mme. de Combray's head, gave Licquet a thread that was to lead him
through the maze that Caffarelli had refused to enter.

Nearly a month earlier, Mme. de Combray had expressly forbidden Soyer to
talk about her return with Lefebre. She had shut herself up in her room
with Catherine Querey, her chambermaid; the lawyer had shared
Bonnoeil's room. Next day, Tuesday, July 28th, the Marquise had shown
Lefebre the apartments prepared for the King and the hiding-places in
the great chateau; Bonnoeil showed him copies of d'Ache's manifesto,
and the Duc d'Enghien's funeral oration, which they read, with deep
respect, after dinner. Towards evening Soyer announced the postmaster
of Gaillon, a friend who had often rendered valuable services to the
people at Tournebut. He had just heard that the commandant had received
orders from Paris to search the chateau, and would do so immediately.
Mme. de Combray was not at all disturbed; she had long been prepared for
this, and ordered Soyer to take some provisions to the little chateau,
where she repaired that night with Lefebre. There were two comfortable
hiding-places there whose mechanism she explained to the lawyer. One of
them was large enough to contain two mattresses side by side; she showed
Lefebre in, slipped after him, and shut the panels upon them both.
Bonnoeil remained alone at Tournebut. The quiet life he had led for
the last two years removed him from any suspicion, and he prepared to
receive the gendarmes who appeared at dawn on Friday. The commandant
showed his order, and Bonnoeil, confident of the issue, and completely
cool, opened all the doors and gave up the keys. The soldiers rummaged
the chateau from top to bottom. Nothing could have been more innocent
than the appearance of this great mansion, most of whose apartments
seemed to have been long unoccupied, and Bonnoeil stated that his
mother had gone a fortnight ago to Lower Normandy, where she went every
year about this time to collect her rents and visit her property near
Falaise. When the servants were