Licquet urged that the concierge
be authorised to receive the letters. He hoped by intercepting them to
learn much from the confidences and advice the Marquise would give her
fellow-prisoners. The idea was at first very repugnant to Savoye-Rollin,
but the Marquise's proposal seemed to establish her guilt so thoroughly,
that he did not feel obliged to be delicate and consented, not without
throwing on his secretary-general (one of Licquet's titles) the
responsibility for the proceeding. Having obtained this concession
Licquet took hold of the enquiry, and found it a good field for the
employment of his particular talents. No duel was ever more pitiless;
never did a detective show more ingenuity and duplicity. From "love of
the art," from sheer delight in it, Licquet worked himself up against
his prisoners with a passion that would be inexplicable, did not his
letters reveal the intense joy the struggle gave him. He felt no hatred
towards his victims, but only a ferocious satisfaction in seeing them
fall into the traps he prepared and in unveiling the mysteries of a plot
whose political significance seemed entirely indifferent to him.

With the keenest anticipation he awaited the time when Mme. de Combray's
letters to Bonnoeil and "Tourlour" should be handed to him. He had to
be patient till next day, and this first letter told nothing; the
Marquise gave her accomplices a sketch of her examination, and did it so
artfully that Licquet suspected her of having known that the letter was
to pass through his hands. The same day the concierge gave him another
letter as insignificant as the first, which, however, ended with this
sentence, whose perusal puzzled Licquet: "Do you not know that
Tourlour's brother has burnt the muslin fichu?"

"Tourlour's brother"--that was d'Ache. Had he recently returned to
Tournebut? Was he still there? Another letter, given to the gaoler by
Bonnoeil, answered these questions affirmatively. It was addressed to
a man of business named Legrand in the Rue Cauchoise, and ran thus: "I
implore you to start at once for Tournebut without telling any one of
the object of your journey; go to Grosmenil (the little chateau), see
the woman Bachelet, and burn everything she may have that seems
suspicious; you will do us a great service. Return this letter to me.
Tell Soyer that if any one asks if M. d'Ache has returned, it is two
years since he was seen at Tournebut."

That same evening the order for Soyer's a