ds as completely as if it were some frail house of
cards erected by a child. He had only sufficient strength to murmur:
"Nothing--nothing at all."

Then, as he could endure this torture of uncertainty no longer, he went
toward the marchioness's house and rang the bell. The servant who came
to open the door examined him attentively, and then announced that
Madame d'Arlange was in the country. He evidently fancied that Lecoq was
a creditor.

But the young detective insisted so adroitly, giving the lackey to
understand so explicitly that he did not come to collect money, and
speaking so earnestly of urgent business, that the servant finally
admitted him to the hall, saying that he would go and see if madame had
really gone out.

Fortunately for Lecoq, she happened to be at home, and an instant
afterward the valet returned requesting the young detective to
follow him. After passing through a large and magnificently furnished
drawing-room, they reached a charming boudoir, hung with rose-colored
curtains, where, sitting by the fireside, in a large easy-chair, Lecoq
found an old woman, tall, bony, and terrible of aspect, her face loaded
with paint, and her person covered with ornaments. The aged coquette
was Madame, the Marchioness, who, for the time being, was engaged in
knitting a strip of green wool. She turned toward her visitor just
enough to show him the rouge on one cheek, and then, as he seemed rather
frightened--a fact flattering to her vanity--she spoke in an affable
tone. "Ah, well young man," said she, "what brings you here?"

In point of fact, Lecoq was not frightened, but he was intensely
disappointed to find that Madame d'Arlange could not possibly be one of
the women who had escaped from the Widow Chupin's hovel on the night of
the murder. There was nothing about her appearance that corresponded in
the least degree with the descriptions given by Papillon.

Remembering the small footprints left in the snow by the two fugitives,
the young detective glanced, moreover, at the marchioness's feet, just
perceivable beneath her skirt, and his disappointment reached its climax
when he found that they were truly colossal in size.

"Well, are you dumb?" inquired the old lady, raising her voice.

Without making a direct reply, Lecoq produced the precious earring, and,
placing it upon the table beside the marchioness, remarked: "I bring you
this jewel, madame, which I have found, and which, I am told, belongs to
you