his early visitor. He had no enemies to fear, and
could, without danger, sleep with his door unlocked.

In response to his call, Father Papillon's shrewd face peered into the
room.

"Ah! it is my worthy coachman!" exclaimed Lecoq. "Is there anything
new?"

"Excuse me, but it's the old affair that brings me here," replied our
eccentric friend the cabman. "You know--the thirty francs those wretched
women paid me. Really, I shan't sleep in peace till you have worked off
the amount by using my vehicle. Our drive yesterday lasted two hours and
a half, which, according to the regular fare, would be worth a hundred
sous; so you see I've still more than twelve hours at your disposal."

"That is all nonsense, my friend!"

"Possibly, but I am responsible for it, and if you won't use my cab,
I've sworn to spend those twelve hours waiting outside your door. So now
make up your mind." He gazed at Lecoq beseechingly, and it was evident
that a refusal would wound him keenly.

"Very well," replied Lecoq, "I will take you for the morning, only I
ought to warn you that we are starting on a long journey."

"Oh, Cocotte's legs may be relied upon."

"My companion and myself have business in your own neighborhood. It is
absolutely necessary for us to find the Widow Chupin's daughter-in-law;
and I hope we shall be able to obtain her address from the police
commissary of the district where the Poivriere is situated."

"Very well, we will go wherever you wish; I am at your orders."

A few moments later they were on their way.

Papillon's features wore an air of self-satisfied pride as, sitting
erect on his box, he cracked his whip, and encouraged the nimble
Cocotte. The vehicle could not have got over the ground more rapidly if
its driver had been promised a hundred sous' gratuity.

Father Absinthe alone was sad. He had been forgiven by Lecoq, but he
could not forget that he, an old police agent, had been duped as easily
as if he had been some ignorant provincial. The thought was humiliating,
and then in addition he had been fool enough to reveal the secret plans
of the prosecution! He knew but too well that this act of folly had
doubled the difficulties of Lecoq's task.

The long drive in Father Papillon's cab was not a fruitless one. The
secretary of the commissary of police for the thirteenth arrondissement
informed Lecoq that Polyte Chupin's wife lived with her child, in the
suburbs, in the Rue de la Butte-aux-Cailles. He co