The clerk had ceased yawning; he was listening to Baudoin with sympathetic interest all the while he was writing his deposition. He wrote down the main outlines only, for it was the third time M. Mayeur was having the same thing repeated to him, as though he hoped to discover among expressions already heard, some special signification which would permit him to unravel the truth. And it was always this love intrigue, cloaking the criminal attempt, the bearing of which he could not succeed in gauging. Was it a matter that concerned international politics or was it mere spying? Or simply a bold attempt to seize a commercial product of considerable value? Still, before whatever hypothesis he stopped, there was obscurity with regard to cause, ignorance concerning details, an impenetrable mystery which maddened him, and which seemed as though it would compromise his career. Flinging himself back in his chair, he said— “Yes, the criminals have taken great precautions. The General is dead, the servant, too, is dead, and you had been sent away. The wounded man has disappeared, as though buried in the bowels of the earth. And the unknown woman is mocking at our researches.” Baudoin shook his head. “So long as attempts are made to find her, she will hide, and nothing will be discovered. If the matter concerned me, I know what I should do.” M. Mayeur, in his distress, flashed at the valet a look of curiosity. When he, the examining magistrate, so famous for a resourceful imagination, no longer knew what expedient to try, a simple witness pretended to understand the position, and point out the means to be followed. He was on the point of crushing him with official disdain, by telling him to trouble with what concerned him, when he thought that, after all, advice was not to be neglected, and he might despise it afterwards, if necessary. He accordingly asked, in mocking tones, to safeguard his dignity— “Then, what would you do, M. Baudoin?” “Please pardon me, sir, if what I say is foolish, but if the affair were in my hand, instead of sending out in every direction, seeking information everywhere, I would not stir a step. I should let it be known that I had given up the pursuit, and was engaged in something else. You must know what takes place in a barn, where there are mice. There is a general rush to the holes as soon as the sound of entering feet are heard. If you remain quiet, after a few moments the mice are seen to be risking out again, and playing about the floor as before. Well, I believe it would be the same in the present case. I beg pardon, if I interfere in the matter, but I, too, am bent on finding the rascals who killed my master, and if I can contribute towards their capture it will be the brightest day of my life.”