y,
all places of public resort were crowded. When Lecoq left the Hotel de
Mariembourg about midnight, the streets were as full as if it had been
noonday, and the cafes were thronged with customers.

But the young detective had no heart for pleasure. He mingled with the
crowd without seemingly seeing it, and jostled against groups of people
chatting at the corners, without hearing the imprecations occasioned
by his awkwardness. Where was he going? He had no idea. He walked
aimlessly, more disconsolate and desperate than the gambler who had
staked his last hope with his last louis, and lost.

"I must yield," he murmured; "this evidence is conclusive. My
presumptions were only chimeras; my deductions the playthings of chance!
All I can now do is to withdraw, with the least possible damage and
ridicule, from the false position I have assumed."

Just as he reached the boulevard, however, a new idea entered his brain,
an idea of so startling a kind that he could scarcely restrain a loud
exclamation of surprise. "What a fool I am!" cried he, striking his
hand violently against his forehead. "Is it possible to be so strong in
theory, and yet so ridiculously weak in practise? Ah! I am only a child,
a mere novice, disheartened by the slightest obstacle. I meet with
a difficulty, and at once I lose all my courage. Now, let me reflect
calmly. What did I tell the judge about this murderer, whose plan of
defense so puzzles us? Did I not tell him that we had to deal with a
man of superior talent--with a man of consummate penetration and
experience--a bold, courageous fellow of imperturbable coolness, who
will do anything to insure the success of his plans? Yes; I told him
all that, and yet I give up the game in despair as soon as I meet with a
single circumstance that I can not instantly explain. It is evident
that such a prisoner would not resort to old, hackneyed, commonplace
expedients. Time, patience, and research are requisite to find a flaw in
his defense. With such a man as he is, the more appearances are against
my presumptions, and in favor of his narrative, the more certain it is
that I am right--or else logic is no longer logic."

At this thought, Lecoq burst into a hearty laugh. "Still," continued he,
"it would perhaps be premature to expose this theory at headquarters in
Gevrol's presence. He would at once present me with a certificate for
admission into some lunatic asylum."

The young detective paused. While absorb