“I think that Gevrol, like every one else, is liable to be mistaken. I think that he believes too implicitly in what seems to him evidence. I could swear that this affair is not what it seems to be; and I am sure that if we like we can discover the mystery which is concealed beneath present appearances.” Although Lecoq’s vehemence was intense, he did not succeed in making any impression upon his companion, who with a yawn that threatened to dislocate his jaws replied: “Perhaps you are right; but I am going to bed. This need not prevent you from searching around, however; and if you find anything you can wake me.” Lecoq made no sign of impatience: nor in reality was he impatient. These words afforded him the opportunity for which he was longing. “You will give me a moment first,” he remarked. “In five minutes, by your watch, I promise to let you put your finger on the mystery that I suspect here.” “Well, go on for five minutes.” “After that you shall be free, Father Absinthe. Only it is clear that if I unravel the mystery alone, I alone ought to pocket the reward that a solution will certainly bring.” At the word “reward” the old police agent pricked up his ears. He was dazzled by the vision of an infinite number of bottles of the greenish liquor whose name he bore. “Convince me, then,” said he, taking a seat upon a stool, which he had lifted from the floor. Lecoq remained standing in front of him. “To begin with,” he remarked, “whom do you suppose the person we have just arrested to be?” “A porter, probably, or a vagabond.” “That is to say, a man belonging to the lowest class of society: consequently, a fellow without education.” “Certainly.” Lecoq spoke with his eyes fixed upon those of his companion. He distrusted his own powers, as is usual with persons of real merit, but he felt that if he could succeed in making his convictions penetrate his comrade’s obtuse mind, their exactitude would be virtually proved. “And now,” he continued, “what would you say if I showed you that this young man had received an excellent, even refined, education?” “I should reply that it was very extraordinary. I should reply that--but what a fool I am! You have not proved it to me yet.” “But I can do so very easily. Do you remember the words that he uttered as he fell?” “Yes, I remember them perfectly. He said: ‘It is the Prussians who are coming.’” “What do you suppose he meant by that?” “What a question! I should suppose that he did not like the Prussians, and that he supposed he was offering us a terrible insult.” Lecoq was waiting anxiously for this response. “Ah, well; Father Absinthe,” he said gravely, “you are wrong, quite wrong. And that this man has an education superior to his apparent position is proved by the fact that you did not understand his meaning, nor his intention. It was this single phrase that enlightened me.”