“We started in pursuit of a man who is implicated in the murders at the Poivriere,” he said; “one who came here hoping to find you alone, who was frightened at seeing us.” “A murderer!” faltered Toinon, with clasped hands. “What could he want of me?” “Who knows? It is very probable that he is one of your husband’s friends.” “Oh! sir.” “Why, did you not tell me just now that Polyte had some very undesirable acquaintances? But don’t be alarmed; this does not compromise him in the least. Besides, you can very easily clear him of all suspicion.” “How? In what way? Oh, tell me at once.” “Merely by answering me frankly, and by assisting me to find the guilty party. Now, among your husband’s friends, don’t you know any who might be capable of such a deed? Give me the names of his acquaintances.” The poor woman’s hesitation was evident; undoubtedly she had been present at many sinister cabals, and had been threatened with terrible punishment if she dared to disclose the plans formed by Polyte or his associates. “You have nothing to fear,” said Lecoq, encouragingly, “and I promise you no one shall ever know that you have told me a word. Very probably you can tell me nothing more than I know already. I have heard a great deal about your former life, and the brutality with which Polyte and his mother have treated you.” “My husband has never treated me brutally,” said the young woman, indignantly; “besides, that matter would only concern myself.” “And your mother-in-law?” “She is, perhaps, a trifle quick-tempered; but in reality she has a good heart.” “Then, if you were so happy at the Widow Chupin’s house, why did you fly from it?” Toinon the Virtuous turned scarlet to the very roots of her hair. “I left for other reasons,” she replied. “There were always a great many drunken men about the house; and, sometimes, when I was alone, some of them tried to carry their pleasantry too far. You may say that I have a solid fist of my own, and that I am quite capable of protecting myself. That’s true. But while I was away one day some fellows were wicked enough to make this child drink to such an excess that when I came home I found him as stiff and cold as if he were dead. It was necessary to fetch a doctor or else--” She suddenly paused; her eyes dilated. From red she turned livid, and in a hoarse, unnatural voice, she cried: “Toto! wretched child!” Lecoq looked behind him, and shuddered. He understood everything. This child--not yet five years old--had stolen up behind him, and, ferreting in the pockets of his overcoat, had rifled them of their contents.