“Exactly.”
“Eh, bien!” called the Frenchman, and smote himself on the forehead with his clenched fist. “Why did you not tell us this before?”
The Frenchman was transformed. Heretofore, in appearance at least, he had been an insignificant little man with no special capacity for the intricacies of unsolved crime mysteries. But now that the germ of an elusive idea had taken root in his mind he seemed to grow in stature as well as in intellect. His eyes became animated, his nostrils distended, his foolish little mustache took on an air of dignity, and his narrow shoulders seemed to grow straighter and to broaden.
Twisting the starboard point of his mustache fiercely between his fingers, he began to pace rapidly up and down the room. Dobson, who was acquainted with these symptoms, threw a significant look at the coroner. The look, however, failed to register, for Rane was staring at the floor, with knitted brow. He appeared to be thinking deeply.
Strange scratched his ear reflectively and stole a glance at the Frenchman. He, also was familiar with the latter’s eccentricities and, like the major, was always a little awed by an outburst of his friend’s temperament. Experience had taught him that this was a moment for silence, and he was determined to maintain it at all costs.
But even while he was rolling this thought around in his mind, and glaring threateningly at O’Shane, who was moistening his lips as if about to speak, the Frenchman put an end to it in a manner peculiarly his own.
“Triomphe!” he cried, with such suddenness and vigor that the iron-nerved detective sergeant jumped. “I’ve got it! At last I see the light!”
In his excitement he danced up and down in front of the major, to the secret amusement of the coroner and the astonishment of Deweese. Strange, however, knowing what this overflow of energy denoted, leaned forward eagerly and strained his ears to catch what would follow.
“Well, what have you got?” asked the major calmly, though the coroner thought he could detect a note of vast relief in his voice.
“The answer to the riddle, major,” yelled Peret too excited to contain himself. “I’ve got it! I’ve found it! The mystery is solved. Nom de diable! The Thing is—”