"That I cannot say."
What a day Juve had passed! Events had succeeded each other with such startling rapidity that the detective, in spite of his robust physique, began at length to feel the strain. As a matter of fact he had really had no rest since his tragic awakening in the mortuary chapel at Glotzbourg. He had passed the following night in the train without closing an eye. Upon his arrival he had been busy without interruption until he found himself, at ten o'clock at night, in his little apartment in the Rue Bonaparte with the grotesque Wulf as companion. While the latter was tranquilly reading the adventures of Vidocq, Juve was absorbed in a strange task which occupied his entire attention.
He was minutely examining a queer-looking garment, a waistcoat of very unusual cut. He turned to Wulf:
"Monsieur Wulf, you recognize this garment, don't you? There is no doubt that it came from Jacob and Company, the Glotzbourg tailors?"
Wulf nodded.
"No doubt whatever. I've had too much experience in such matters to be mistaken.... Besides, the initials J. G. are on the buttons."
"Yes, yes—Jacob of Glotzbourg."
Juve now examined the lining with a magnifying glass, muttering the while:
"Ah, just as I expected!"