"That's it. It was a little after midnight, he says, and suddenly, as he stood waiting and listening, he heard a cautious step coming along the balcony from the direction of the medical student's room, G. Then he saw a man pass his window, and he was sure it was the medical student. He stepped out softly and followed him as far as the window of room C. Then, feeling certain his suspicions were justified, he sprang upon the man from behind, intending to chastise him, but he had caught the wrong pig by the ear, for the man turned on him like a flash and—it wasn't the medical student."
"Who was it? Go on!" exclaimed the others eagerly.
"He doesn't know who it was, or anything about the man except that his hand shut like a vise on the shrimp's throat and nearly choked the life out of him. You can see the nail marks still on the cheek and neck; but he remembers distinctly that the man carried something in his hand."
"My God! The missing pair of boots!" cried Coquenil. "Was it?"
Tignol nodded. "Sure! He was carrying 'em loose in his hand. I mean they were not wrapped up, he was going to leave 'em in Kittredge's room—here it is, A." He pointed to the diagram.
"It's true, it must be true," murmured M. Paul. "And what then?"
"Nothing. I guess the man saw it was only a shrimp he had hold of, so he shook him two or three times and dropped him back into his own room; and he never said a word."
"And the boots?"
"He must have taken the boots with him. The shrimp peeped out and saw him go back into this room F, which has been empty for several weeks. Then he heard steps on the stairs and the slam of the heavy street door. The man was gone."
Coquenil's face grew somber. "It was the assassin," he said; "there's no doubt about it."