M. Lecoq went on:

"Were the windows open this morning as they are now?"

"Yes."

"Ah! The wretches heard some noise or other in the garden, and
they went and looked out. What did they see? I can't tell. But
I do know that what they saw terrified them, that they threw down
the hatchet furiously, and made off. Look at the position of these
cuts--they are slanting of course--and you will see that the
hatchet was thrown by a man who was standing, not by the cupboard,
but close by the open window."

Plantat in his turn knelt down, and looked long and carefully.
The detective was right. He got up confused, and after meditating
a moment, said:

"This perplexes me a little; however--"

He stopped, motionless, in a revery, with one of his hands on his
forehead.

"All might yet be explained," he muttered, mentally searching for a
solution of the mystery, "and in that case the time indicated by
the clock would be true."

M. Lecoq did not think of questioning his companion. He knew that
he would not answer, for pride's sake.