"Mademoiselle Fouchette."
"What! the wild, untamed——"
"La Savatière? Nonsense!"
"Here's a lock of her hair in evidence," remarked Massard, going to a drawer and taking out a bit of paper. "It is as clear to my mind as it was to the police that Monsieur Marot had that girl, or some other like her, up here that night."
"Let me see that," said Villeroy.
"I found it on the floor the next day,—the inspector took away quite a bunch of it," continued the young man, as the other examined the lock.
"There are two women who have hair like that," said Villeroy,—"Fouchette and the girl who goes with Lerouge. Now, which is it?"
"Her name is Remy,—Mademoiselle Remy," observed Massard; "and, as George says, she's a beauty——"
"Which cannot be said of La Savatière."
"No; and yet——"