is not believed, perhaps; but it is repeated, and spreads. What
can be done? How can we know what is secretly said against us;
will we ever know it?"

"Eh!" replied the doctor, "what matters it? There is only one
voice, to my mind, worth listening to--that of conscience. As to
what is called 'public opinion,' as it is the aggregate opinion of
thousands of fools and rogues, I only despise it."

This discussion might have been prolonged, if the judge of
instruction had not pulled out his watch, and made an impatient
gesture.

"While we are talking, time is flying," said he. "We must hasten
to the work that still remains."

It was then agreed that while the doctor proceeded to his autopsy,
the judge should draw up his report of the case. M. Plantat was
charged with watching Lecoq's investigations.

As soon as the detective found himself alone with M. Plantat:

"Well," he said, drawing a long breath, as if relieved of a heavy
burden, "now we can get on."

Plantat smiled; the detective munched a lozenge, and added:

"It was very annoying to find the investigation already going on
when I reached here. Those who were here before me have had time
to get up a theory, and if I don't adopt it at once, there is the