“Oh, it’s clear enough, that is!” replied the old maid after a momentary hesitation, but without giving any proof of her assertions. “He’s had even more than his share. The Quenus will be several thousand francs out of pocket. Money flies, you know, when a man has such vices as he has. I dare say you don’t know that there was another woman mixed up in it all. Yes, indeed, old Madame Verlaque, the wife of the former inspector; you know the sallow-faced thing well enough.” The others protested that it surely wasn’t possible. Why, Madame Verlaque was positively hideous! “What! do you think me a liar?” cried Mademoiselle Saget, with angry indignation. “Why, her letters to him have been found, a whole pile of letters, in which she asks for money, ten and twenty francs at a time. There’s no doubt at all about it. I’m quite certain in my own mind that they killed the husband between them.” La Sarriette and Madame Lecœur were convinced; but they were beginning to get very impatient. They had been waiting on the footway for more than an hour, and feared that somebody might be robbing their stalls during their long absence. So Mademoiselle Saget began to give them some further interesting information to keep them from going off. Florent could not have taken to flight, said she; he was certain to return, and it would be very interesting to see him arrested. Then she went on to describe the trap that had been laid for him, while Madame Lecœur and La Sarriette continued scrutinising the house from top to bottom, keeping watch upon every opening, and at each moment expecting to see the hats of the detectives appear at one of the doors or windows. “Who would ever imagine, now, that the place was full of police?” observed the butter dealer. “Oh! they’re in the garret at the top,” said the old maid. “They’ve left the window open, you see, just as they found it. Look! I think I can see one of them hiding behind the pomegranate on the balcony.” The others excitedly craned out their necks, but could see nothing. “Ah, no, it’s only a shadow,” continued Mademoiselle Saget. “The little curtains even are perfectly still. The detectives must be sitting down in the room, and keeping quiet.” Just at that moment the women caught sight of Gavard coming out of the fish market with a thoughtful air. They looked at him with glistening eyes, without speaking. They had drawn close to one another, and stood there rigid in their drooping skirts. The poultry dealer came up to them. “Have you seen Florent go by?” he asked. They replied that they had not. “I want to speak to him at once,” continued Gavard. “He isn’t in the fish market. He must have gone up to his room. But you would have seen him, though, if he had.”