ngular and
absurd names in France--those which are formed of the most fantastic
mingling of syllables.

Still, nothing could daunt him or turn him from the almost impossible
task he had undertaken, and his obstinate perseverance well-nigh
developed into monomania. He was no longer subject to occasional
outbursts of anger, quickly repressed; but lived in a state of constant
exasperation, which soon impaired the clearness of his mind. No more
theories, or ingenious deductions, no more subtle reasoning. He pursued
his search without method and without order--much as Father Absinthe
might have done when under the influence of alcohol. Perhaps he had come
to rely less upon his own shrewdness than upon chance to reveal to him
the substance of the mystery, of which he had as yet only detected the
shadow.

XVIII

When a heavy stone is thrown into a lake a considerable commotion
ensues, the water spouts and seethes and bubbles and frequently a tall
jet leaps into the air. But all this agitation only lasts for a moment;
the bubbling subsides as the circles of the passing whirlpool grow
larger and larger; the surface regains at last its customary smoothness;
and soon no trace remains of the passage of the stone, now buried in the
depths below.

So it is with the events of our daily life, however momentous they may
appear at the hour of their occurrence. It seems as if their impressions
would last for years; but no, they speedily sink into the depths of the
past, and time obliterates their passage--just as the water of the
lake closes over and hides the stone, for an instant the cause of such
commotion. Thus it was that at the end of a fortnight the frightful
crime committed in the Widow Chupin's drinking-den, the triple murder
which had made all Paris shudder, which had furnished the material for
so many newspaper articles, and the topic for such indignant comments,
was completely forgotten. Indeed, had the tragedy at the Poivriere
occurred in the times of Charlemagne, it could not have passed more
thoroughly out of people's minds. It was remembered only in three
places, at the Depot, at the Prefecture de Police, and at the Palais de
Justice.

M. Segmuller's repeated efforts had proved as unsuccessful as Lecoq's.
Skilful questioning, ingenious insinuations, forcible threats, and
seductive promises had proved powerless to overcome the dogged spirit
of absolute denial which persistently animated, not merely the prisoner