t continue to personate this character."

"What good will it do? Lacheneur will betray me."

But Martial, though he little knew it, had no need to fear Lacheneur for
the present, at least. A few hours before, on his way from the Rainbow
to the Poivriere, Jean had been precipitated to the bottom of a stone
quarry, and had fractured his skull. The laborers, on returning to their
work early in the morning, found him lying there senseless; and at that
very moment they were carrying him to the hospital.

Although Otto was ignorant of this circumstance, he did not seem
discouraged.

"There will be some way of getting rid of Lacheneur," said he, "if you
will only sustain your present character. An escape is an easy matter
when a man has millions at his command."

"They will ask me who I am, whence I came, how I have lived."

"You speak English and German; tell them that you have just returned
from foreign lands; that you were a foundling and that you have always
lived a roving life."

"How can I prove this?"

Otto drew a little nearer his master, and said, impressively:

"We must agree upon our plans, for our success depends upon a perfect
understanding between us. I have a sweetheart in Paris--and no one knows
our relations. She is as sharp as steel. Her name is Milner, and she
keeps the Hotel de Mariembourg, on the Saint-Quentin. You can say that
you arrived here from Leipsic on Sunday; that you went to this hotel;
that you left your trunk there, and that this trunk is marked with the
name of May, foreign artist."

"Capital!" said Martial, approvingly.

And then, with extraordinary quickness and precision, they agreed, point
by point, upon their plan of defence.

When all had been arranged, Otto pretended to awake from the heavy sleep
of intoxication; he clamored to be released, and the keeper finally
opened the door and set him at liberty.

Before leaving the station-house, however, he succeeded in throwing a
note to the Widow Chupin, who was imprisoned in the other compartment.

So, when Lecoq, after his skilful investigations at the Poivriere,
rushed to the Place d'Italie, panting with hope and ambition, he found
himself outwitted by these men, who were inferior to him in penetration,
but whose _finesse_ was superior to his own.

Martial's plans being fully formed, he intended to carry them out with
absolute perfection of detail, and, after his removal to prison, the
Duc de Sairmeuse was preparing himsel