“Why the fact is, we took our time, and we searched _everywhere_.
I have had long experience in these affairs. I took the entire
building, room by room; devoting the nights of a whole week to
each. We examined, first, the furniture of each apartment. We
opened every possible drawer; and I presume you know that, to a
properly trained police agent, such a thing as a secret drawer is
impossible. Any man is a dolt who permits a ‘secret’ drawer to
escape him in a search of this kind. The thing is so plain. There
is a certain amount of bulk—of space—to be accounted for in every
cabinet. Then we have accurate rules. The fiftieth part of a line
could not escape us. After the cabinets we took the chairs. The
cushions we probed with the fine long needles you have seen me
employ. From the tables we removed the tops.”

“Why so?”

“Sometimes the top of a table, or other similarly arranged piece
of furniture, is removed by the person wishing to conceal an
article; then the leg is excavated, the article deposited within
the cavity, and the top replaced. The bottoms and tops of
bedposts are employed in the same way.”

“But could not the cavity be detected by sounding?” I asked.

“By no means, if, when the article is deposited, a sufficient
wadding of cotton be placed around it. Besides, in our case, we
were obliged to proceed without noise.”

“But you could not have removed—you could not have taken to
pieces all articles of furniture in which it would have been
possible to make a deposit in the manner you mention. A letter
may be compressed into a thin spiral roll, not differing much in
shape or bulk from a large knitting-needle, and in this form it
might be inserted into the rung of a chair, for example. You did
not take to pieces all the chairs?”

“Certainly not; but we did better—we examined the rungs of every
chair in the hotel, and, indeed the jointings of every
description of furniture, by the aid of a most powerful
microscope. Had there been any traces of recent disturbance we
should not have failed to detect it instantly. A single grain of
gimlet-dust, for example, would have been as obvious as an apple.
Any disorder in the glueing—any unusual gaping in the
joints—would have sufficed to insure detection.”

“I presume you looked to the mirrors, between the boards and the
plates, and you probed the beds and the bed-clothes, as well as
the curtains and carpets.”

“That of course; and when we had absolutely completed every
particle of the furniture in this way, then we examined the house
itself. We divided its entire surface into compartments, which we
numbered, so that none might be missed; then we scrutinized each
individual square inch throughout the premises, including the two
houses immediately adjoining, with the microscope, as before.”

“The two houses adjoining!” I exclaimed; “you must have had a
great deal of trouble.”

“We had; but the reward offered is prodigious!”

“You include the grounds about the houses?”

“All the grounds are paved with brick. They gave us comparatively
little trouble. We examined the moss between the bricks, and
found it undisturbed.”

“You looked among D——‘s papers, of course, and into the books of
the library?”

“Certainly; we opened every package and parcel; we not only
opened every book, but we turned over every leaf in each volume,
not contenting ourselves with a mere shake, according to the
fashion of some of our police officers. We also measured the
thickness of every book-cover, with the most accurate
admeasurement, and applied to each the most jealous scrutiny of
the microscope. Had any of the bindings been recently meddled
with, it would have been utterly impossible that the fact should
have escaped observation. Some five or six volumes, just from the
hands of the binder, we carefully probed, longitudinally, with
the needles.”

“You explored the floors beneath the carpets?”

“Beyond doubt. We removed every carpet, and examined the boards
with the microscope.”

“And the paper on the walls?”

“Yes.”

“You looked into the cellars?”

“We did.”

“Then,” I said, “you have been making a miscalculation, and the
letter is not upon the premises, as you suppose.”

“I fear you are right there,” said the Prefect. “And now, Dupin,
what would you advise me to do?”

“To make a thorough re-search of the premises.”

“That is absolutely needless,” replied G——. “I am not more sure
that I breathe than I am that the letter is not at the Hotel.”

“I have no better advice to give you,” said Dupin. “You have, of
course, an accurate description of the letter?”

“Oh yes!”—And here the Prefect, producing a memorandum-book,
proceeded to read aloud a minute account of the internal, and
especially of the external appearance of the missing document.
Soon after finishing the perusal of this description, he took his
departure, more entirely depressed in spirits than I had ever
known the good gentleman before.

In about a month afterwards he paid us another visit, and found
us occupied very nearly as before. He took a pipe and a chair and
entered into some ordinary conversation. At length I said,—

“Well, but G——, what of the purloined letter? I presume you have
at last made up your mind that there is no such thing as
overreaching the Minister?”

“Confound him, say I—yes; I made the re-examination, however, as
Dupin suggested—but it was all labor lost, as I knew it would
be.”