vice, not even a little defect by which his valet could gain ten sous. He neither smokes, drinks, nor plays; in fact, he is a saint. He is worth millions, and lives as respectably and quietly as a grocer. He is devoted to his wife, adores his children, is lavishly hospitable, and seldom goes into society."

"Then his wife is young?"

"She must be about fifty."

Mme. Alexandre reflected a minute, then asked: "Did you inquire about the other members of the family?"

"Certainly. The younger son is in the army. The elder son, Lucien, lives with his parents, and is as proper as a young lady; so good, indeed, that he is stupid."

"And what about the niece?"

"Evariste could tell me nothing about her."

Mme. Alexandre shrugged her fat shoulders.

"If you have discovered nothing, it is because there is nothing to be discovered. Still, do you know what I would do, if I were you?"

"Tell me."

"I would consult with M. Lecoq."

Fanferlot jumped up as if he had been shot.

"Now, that's pretty advice! Do you want me to lose my place? M. Lecoq does not suspect that I have anything to do with the case, except to obey his orders."

"Nobody told you to let him know you were investigating it on your own account. You can consult him with an air of indifference, as if you were not at all interested; and, after you have got his opinion, you can take advantage of it."

The detective weighed his wife's words, and then said: "Perhaps you are right; yet M. Lecoq is so devilishly shrewd, that he might see through me."

"Shrewd!" echoed Mme. Alexandre, "shrewd! All of you at the police office say that so often, that he has gained his reputation by it: you are just as sharp as he is."

"Well, we will see. I will think the matter over; but, in the meantime, what does the girl say?"

The "girl" was Mme. Nina Gypsy.

In taking up her abode at the Archangel, the poor girl thought 

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