"I saw him about a week ago."
"Stop, though—haven't you heard of that horrible affair?"
"No. What was it?"
"Really, now, haven't you heard? Don't you read the papers? It was a dreadful thing, and has been the talk of all Paris for the past forty-eight hours."
"Tell me about it, quick!"
"You know that he married the widow of one of his friends. He was thought to be very happy at home; not at all; he has murdered his wife with a knife."
Jenny grew pale under her paint.
"Is it possible?" stammered she. She seemed much affected, but not very greatly surprised, which M. Lecoq did not fail to remark.
"It is so possible," he resumed, "that he is at this moment in prison, will soon be tried, and without a doubt will be convicted."
M. Plantat narrowly observed Jenny; he looked for an explosion of despair, screams, tears, at least a light nervous attack; he was mistaken.