"A limp, Madame. It is true," cried Joubert, "the very same. He limped. I saw it as he came forward——"
"That will be all, Monsieur Joubert," said Moira wearily.
And when the man had gone out she turned to Monsieur Simon with a smile of triumph. "Have I made out a case, Monsieur le Juge?"
"Parfaitement, Madame. But the murderer——?" he urged.
She grew grave at once.
"The man I have described is Monsieur Tricot."
The two men exchanged glances.
"We have already taken steps. He will be found, Madame," said the Commissaire. "All the police of Paris are on his trail."
"I pray God you may find him," said Moira quietly.
"And even if we do not, Madame," said Monsieur Simon, "you have created already a reasonable doubt." And then, with a mischievous look toward Monsieur Matthieu, "But I think perhaps it would be as well if you took Monsieur le Commissaire into your confidence."