blood at once caught his eye.

"Oh," cried he, at each spot he saw, "oh, oh, the wretches!"

M. Courtois was much moved to find so much sensibility in a
detective. The latter, as he continued to ascend, went on:

"The wretches! They don't often leave traces like this everywhere
--or at least they wipe them out."

On gaining the first landing, and the door of the boudoir which led
into the chamber, he stopped, eagerly scanning, before he entered,
the position of the rooms.

Then he entered the boudoir, saying:

"Come; I don't see my way clear yet."

"But it seems to me," remarked the judge, "that we have already
important materials to aid your task. It is clear that Guespin,
if he is not an accomplice, at least knew something about the crime."

M. Lecoq had recourse to the portrait in the lozenge-box. It was
more than a glance, it was a confidence. He evidently said something
to the dear defunct, which he dared not say aloud.

"I see that Guespin is seriously compromised," resumed he. "Why
didn't he want to tell where he passed the night? But, then, public
opinion is against him, and I naturally distrust that."