his footsteps, which
sounded most drearily in the silence and darkness pervading the gallery.

Finding an open window on the floor below, he looked out to ascertain
the state of the weather. The temperature was much milder; the snow had
altogether disappeared, and the pavement was almost dry. A slight haze,
illumined by the ruddy glare of the street lamps, hung like a purple
mantle over the city. The streets below were full of animation; vehicles
were rolling rapidly to and fro, and the footways were too narrow for
the bustling crowd, which, now that the labors of the day were ended,
was hastening homeward or in search of pleasure.

The sight drew a sigh from the young detective. "And it is in this great
city," he murmured, "in the midst of this world of people that I must
discover the traces of a person I don't even know! Is it possible to
accomplish such a feat?"

The feeling of despondency that had momentarily surprised him was not,
however, of long duration. "Yes, it is possible," cried an inward voice.
"Besides, it must be done; your future depends upon it. Where there's a
will, there's a way." Ten seconds later he was in the street, more than
ever inflamed with hope and courage.

Unfortunately, however, man can only place organs of limited power at
the disposal of his boundless desires; and Lecoq had not taken twenty
steps along the streets before he became aware that if the spirit was
willing, the flesh was weak. His limbs trembled, and his head whirled.
Nature was asserting her rights; during the last forty-eight hours,
the young detective had taken scarcely a moment's rest, and he had,
moreover, now passed an entire day without food.

"Am I going to be ill?" he thought, sinking on to a bench. And he
groaned inwardly on recapitulating all that he wished to do that
evening.

If he dealt only with the more important matters, must he not at once
ascertain the result of Father Absinthe's search after the man who
had recognized one of the victims at the Morgue; test the prisoner's
assertions regarding the box of clothes left at one of the hotels
surrounding the Northern Railway Station; and last, but not the least,
must he not procure the address of Polyte Chupin's wife, in order to
serve her with the summons to appear before M. Segmuller?

Under the power of urgent necessity, he succeeded in triumphing over
his attack of weakness, and rose, murmuring: "I will go first to the
Prefecture and to the Morgue; th