“I have, perhaps, incommoded you a little this morning, Monsieur Lecoq?”

“Me? then you did not see my motto—­’always vigilant?’ Why, I’ve been out ten times this morning; besides marking out work for three of my men.  Ah, we have little time to ourselves, I can tell you.  I went to the Vulcan’s Forges to see what news I could get of that poor devil of a Guespin.”

“And what did you hear?”

“That I had guessed right.  He changed a five-hundred-franc note there last Wednesday evening at a quarter before ten.”

“That is to say, he is saved?”

“Well, you may say so.  He will be, as soon as we have found Miss Jenny.”

The old justice of the peace could not avoid showing his uneasiness.

“That will, perhaps, be long and difficult?”

“Bast!  Why so?  She is on my black ball there—­we shall have her, accidents excepted, before night.”

“You really think so?”

“I should say I was sure, to anybody but you.  Reflect that this girl has been connected with the Count de Tremorel, a man of the world, a prince of the mode.  When a girl falls to the gutter, after having, as they say, dazzled all Paris for six months with her luxury, she does not disappear entirely, like a stone in the mud.  When she has lost all her friends there are still her creditors, who follow and watch her, awaiting the day when fortune will smile on her once more.  She doesn’t trouble herself about them, she thinks they’ve forgotten her; a mistake!  I know a milliner whose head is a perfect dictionary of the fashionable world; she has often done me a good turn.  We will go and see her if you say so, after breakfast, and in two hours she will give us Jenny’s address.  Ah, if I were only as sure of pinching Tremorel!”

M. Plantat gave a sigh of relief.  The conversation at last took the turn he wished.

“You are thinking of him, then?” asked he.

“Am I?” shouted M. Lecoq, who started from his seat at the question.  “Now just look at my black ball there.  I haven’t thought of anybody else, mark you, since yesterday; I haven’t had a wink of sleep all night for thinking of him.  I must have him, and I will!”

“I don’t doubt it; but when?”

“Ah, there it is!  Perhaps to-morrow, perhaps in a month; it depends on the correctness of my calculations and the exactness of my plan.”

“What, is your plan made?”

“And decided on.”

M. Plantat became attention itself.

“I start from the principle that it is impossible for a man, accompanied by a woman, to hide from the police.  In this case, the woman is young, pretty, and in a noticeable condition; three impossibilities more.  Admit this, and we’ll study Hector’s character.  He isn’t a man of superior shrewdness, for we have found out all his dodges.  He isn’t a fool, because his dodges deceived people who are by no means fools.  He is then a medium sort