"Not yet," said the detective, "not yet; the battle now depends on the precision of our movements. A single fault miserably upsets all my combinations, and then I shall be forced to arrest and deliver up the criminal. We must have a ten minutes' interview with Mademoiselle Laurence, but not much more, and it is absolutely necessary that this interview should be suddenly interrupted by Tremorel's return. Let's make our calculations. It will take the rascal half an hour to go to the Rue des Saints-Peres, where he will find nobody; as long to get back; let us throw in fifteen minutes as a margin; in all, an hour and a quarter. There are forty minutes left us." M. Plantat did not reply, but his companion said that he could not stay so long on his feet after the fatigues of the day, agitated as he was, and having eaten nothing since the evening before. He led him into a neighboring cafe, and forced him to eat a biscuit and drink a glass of wine. Then seeing that conversation would be annoying to the unhappy old man, he took up an evening paper and soon seemed to be absorbed in the latest news from Germany. The old justice, his head leaning on the back of his chair and his eyes wandering over the ceiling, passed in mental review the events of the past four years. It seemed to him but yesterday that Laurence, still a child, ran up his garden-path and picked his roses and honeysuckles. How pretty she was, and how divine were her great eyes! Then, as it seemed, between dusk and dawn, as a rose blooms on a June night, the pretty child had become a sweet and radiant young girl. She was timid and reserved with all but him--was he not her old friend, the confidant of all her little griefs and her innocent hopes? How frank and pure she was then; what a heavenly ignorance of evil! Nine o'clock struck; M. Lecoq laid down his paper. "Let us go," said he. M. Plantat followed him with a firmer step, and they soon reached M. Wilson's house, accompanied by Job and his men. "You men," said M. Lecoq, "wait till I call before you go in; I will leave the door ajar." He rang; the door swung open; and M. Plantat and the detective went in under the arch. The porter was on the threshold of his lodge. "Monsieur Wilson?" asked M. Lecoq. "He is out." "I will speak to Madame, then." "She is also out." "Very well. Only, as I must positively speak with Madame Wilson, I'm going upstairs." The porter seemed about to resist him by force; but, as Lecoq now called in his men, he thought better of it and kept quiet. M. Lecoq posted six of his men in the court, in such a position that they could be easily seen from the windows on the first floor, and instructed the others to place themselves on the opposite sidewalk, telling them to look ostentatiously at the house. These measures taken, he returned to the porter.