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She did not know this woman's name! And, wonderingly, he read on the white page the words and the name written by Alice herself, scrawlingly but distinctly, the day before in the garden of Notre-Dame. Coquenil was neither surprised nor disappointed at the meager results of Alice's visit to the prison.
You might tell by the chipping, but this is hard wood covered with thick enamel, so there's apt to be no chipping. Anyhow, there's none here. We'll see on the other side." "All right, we'll see," consented Coquenil, and they went around into Number Six. The old man drew back the sofa hangings and exposed two holes exactly like the others in fact, the same holes.
Groener heard and, with a long sigh, sank back against the chair and closed his eyes, but Coquenil noticed uneasily that just a flicker of the old patronizing smile was playing about his pallid lips. In accordance with orders, Papa Tignol appeared at the Villa Montmorency betimes the next morning.
"You remember whom you paid them to?" questioned the detective. "I didn't pay them to anyone," replied Wilmott, "I gave them to my wife." "Ah!" said Coquenil, and presently he took his departure with polite assurances, whereupon the unsuspecting Addison tooted away complacently for Fontainebleau.
"Well?" broke in Pougeot impatiently, but Coquenil gave the woman a reassuring look and she went on to explain that she was a spinster living in a little attic room of the next house, overlooking the Rue Marboeuf. She worked as a seamstress all day in a hot, crowded atelier, and when she came home at night she loved to go out on her balcony, especially these fine summer evenings.
He pointed to a heavily barred iron door. "Does she know it was a trick, about the ring?" "Not yet." Again there was a silence. Coquenil hesitated before he said with an effort: "Do you think it's necessary to to include her in this affair?" The baron thought a moment. "I think I'd better make a clean job of it." "You mean both?" "Yes."
Coquenil pointed to his table where a book lay open. "Do you see that red book? It's the Annuaire de la Noblesse Française. You'll find his name there marked with a pencil." Tignol went eagerly to the table, then, as he glanced at the printed page there came over his face an expression of utter amazement. "It isn't possible!" he cried.
"Ah, you have news for us!" exclaimed the judge. Gibelin beamed. "I haven't wasted my time," he nodded. Then, with a sarcastic glance at Coquenil: "The old school has its good points, after all." "No doubt," agreed Coquenil curtly.
"How do you know that my name is Louis?" answered the detective with a sharp glance. "I know a great deal about you," answered the other, and then with significant emphasis: "I know that you are interested in dreams. May I walk along with you?" "You may," said Coquenil, and at once his keen mind was absorbed in this new problem. Instinctively he felt that something momentous was preparing.
Wilmott, and possibly clever forgeries. "Really!" exclaimed Addison. Coquenil hoped that Mr. Wilmott would give him the notes in question in exchange for genuine ones. This would help the investigation. "Of course, my dear sir," said the American, "but I haven't the notes, they were spent long ago." Coquenil was sorry to hear this he wondered if Mr.
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