“Not at all. I have known him but a short time, and he was my patient, as I was his client, by accident. He undertook an affair for me, and I gave him advice; he was in the last stage of diabetes. The assassin hastened his death only a short time-a few days.” “That is nothing; he hastened it.” “Oh, certainly! Otherwise, if he is skilful in cutting throats, perhaps he is less so in making a diagnosis of their maladies.” “That is probable,” responded the commissioner, smiling. “You think it was a butcher?” “It seems probable.” “The knife?” “He might have stolen it or found it.” “But the mode of operating?” “That, it seems to me, is the point from where we should start.” Saniel could remain no longer, and he rose to leave. “You have my address,” he said; “but I must tell you, if you want me, I leave to-morrow for Nice. But I shall be absent only just long enough to go and return.” “If we want you, it will not be for several days. We shall not get on very rapidly, we have so little to guide us.” CHAPTER XV. A NEW PLAN Saniel walked home briskly. If, more than once during this interview, his emotion was poignant, he could not but be satisfied with the result. The concierge had not seen him, that was henceforth unquestionable; the hypothesis of the butcher’s knife was put in a way to make his fortune; and it seemed probable that Caffie had not kept the numbers of the bank-notes. But if they had been noted, and should the notebook containing them be discovered later, the danger was not immediate. While writing his report and listening to the concierge’s deposition, by a sort of inspiration he thought of a way of disposing of them. He would divide them into small packages, place them in envelopes, and address them with different initials to the poste restante, where they would remain until he could call for them without compromising himself. In the deposition of the concierge, in the track indicated by the knife, in the poste restante, he had just motives for satisfaction, that made him breathe freely. Decidedly, fate seemed to be with him, and he should have been able to say that everything was going well, if he had not committed the imprudence of entering the cafe. Why had he gone there and remained long enough to attract attention? What might not be the consequences of this stupidity? As soon as he reached home and his door was closed, he carried out his intentions regarding the bank-notes, dividing them into ten packages. His first thought was to place them in the nearest letterbox, but reflection showed him that this would be unwise, and he decided to mail each one in a different quarter of the city.