MONSIEUR LECOQ

by Emile Gaboriau

I

At about eleven o'clock in the evening of the 20th of February, 186--, which chanced to be Shrove Sunday, a party of detectives left the policestation near the old Barriere d'Italie to the direct south of Paris. Their mission was to explore the district extending on the one handbetween the highroad to Fontainebleau and the Seine, and on the otherbetween the outer boulevards and the fortifications. 

This quarter of the city had at that time anything but an enviablereputation. To venture there at night was considered so dangerousthat the soldiers from the outlying forts who came in to Paris withpermission to go to the theatre, were ordered to halt at the barriere, and not to pass through the perilous district excepting in parties ofthree or four. 

After midnight, these gloomy, narrow streets became the haunt ofnumerous homeless vagabonds, and escaped criminals and malefactors, moreover, made the quarter their rendezvous. If the day had been a luckyone, they made merry over their spoils, and when sleep overtook them, hid in doorways or among the rubbish in deserted houses. Every efforthad been made to dislodge these dangerous guests, but the most energeticmeasures had failed to prove successful. Watched, hunted, and inimminent danger of arrest though they were, they always returned withidiotic obstinacy, obeying, as one might suppose, some mysterious lawof attraction. Hence, the district was for the police an immense trap, constantly baited, and to which the game came of their own accord to becaught. 

The result of a tour of inspection of this locality was so certain, thatthe officer in charge of the police post called to the squad as theydeparted: "I will prepare lodgings for our guests. Good luck to you andmuch pleasure!"

This last wish was pure irony, for the weather was the most disagreeablethat could be imagined. A very heavy snow storm had prevailed forseveral days. It was now beginning to thaw, and on all the frequentedthoroughfares the slush was ankle-deep. It was still cold, however; adamp chill filled the air, and penetrated to the very marrow of one'sbones. Besides, there was a dense fog, so dense that one could not seeone's hands before one's face. 

"What a beastly job!" growled one of the agents. 

"Yes, " replied the inspector who commanded the squad; "if you had anincome of thirty thousand francs, I don't suppose you'd be here. " Thelaugh that greeted this common-place joke was not so much flattery ashomage to a recognized and established superiority. 

The inspector was, in fact, one of the most esteemed members of theforce, a man who had proved his worth. His powers of penetration werenot, perhaps, very great; but he thoroughly understood his profession, its resources, its labyrinths, and its artifices. Long practise hadgiven him imperturbable coolness, a great confidence in himself, and asort of coarse diplomacy that supplied the place of shrewdness. To hisfailings and his virtues he added incontestable courage, and hewould lay his hand upon the collar of the most dangerous criminal astranquilly as a devotee dips his fingers in a basin of holy water. 

He was a man about forty-six years of age, strongly built, with ruggedfeatures, a heavy mustache, and rather small, gray eyes, hidden by bushyeyebrows. His name was Gevrol, but he was universally known as "theGeneral. " This sobriquet was pleasing to his vanity, which was notslight, as his subordinates well knew; and, doubtless, he felt that heought to receive from them the same consideration as was due to a personof that exalted rank. 

"If you begin to complain already, " he added, gruffly, "what will you doby and by?"

In fact, it was too soon to complain. The little party were then passingalong the Rue de Choisy. The people on the footways were orderly; andthe lights of the wine-shops illuminated the street. All these placeswere open. There is no fog or thaw that is potent enough to dismaylovers of pleasure. And a boisterous crowd of maskers filled eachtavern, and public ballroom. Through the open windows came alternatelythe sounds of loud voices and bursts of noisy music. Occasionally, adrunken man staggered along the pavement, or a masked figure crept by inthe shadow cast by the houses. 

Before certain establishments Gevrol commanded a halt. He gave apeculiar whistle, and almost immediately a man came out. This wasanother member of the force. His report was listened to, and then thesquad passed on. 

"To the left, boys!" ordered Gevrol; "we will take the Rue d'Ivry, andthen cut through the shortest way to the Rue de Chevaleret. "

From this point the expedition became really disagreeable. The way ledthrough an unfinished, unnamed street, full of puddles and deep holes, and obstructed with all sorts of rubbish. There were no longer anylights or crowded wine-shops. No footsteps, no voices were heard;solitude, gloom, and an almost perfect silence prevailed; and one mighthave supposed oneself a hundred leagues from Paris, had it not been forthe deep and continuous murmur that always arises from a large city, resembling the hollow roar of a torrent in some cavern depth. 

All the men had turned up their trousers and were advancing slowly, picking their way as carefully as an Indian when he is stealing upon hisprey. They had just passed the Rue du Chateau-des-Rentiers when suddenlya wild shriek rent the air. At this place, and at this hour, such a crywas so frightfully significant, that all the men paused as if by commonimpulse. 

"Did you hear that, General?" asked one of the detectives, in a lowvoice. 

"Yes, there is murder going on not far from here--but where? Silence!let us listen. "

They all stood motionless, holding their breath, and anxiouslylistening. Soon a second cry, or rather a wild howl, resounded. 

"Ah!" exclaimed the inspector, "it is at the Poivriere. "

This peculiar appellation "Poivriere" or "pepper-box" was derived fromthe term "peppered" which in French slang is applied to a man whohas left his good sense at the bottom of his glass. Hence, also, thesobriquet of "pepper thieves" given to the rascals whose specialty it isto plunder helpless, inoffensive drunkards. 

"What!" added Gevrol to his companions, "don't you know Mother Chupin'sdrinking-shop there on the right. Run. "

And, setting the example, he dashed off in the direction indicated. Hismen followed, and in less than a minute they reached a hovel of sinisteraspect, standing alone, in a tract of waste ground. It was indeed fromthis den that the cries had proceeded. They were now repeated, and wereimmediately followed by two pistol shots. The house was hermeticallyclosed, but through the cracks in the window-shutters, gleamed a reddishlight like that of a fire. One of the police agents darted to one ofthese windows, and raising himself up by clinging to the shutters withhis hands, endeavored to peer through the cracks, and to see what waspassing within. 

Gevrol himself ran to the door. "Open!" he commanded, striking itheavily. No response came. But they could hear plainly enough the soundof a terrible struggle--of fierce imprecations, hollow groans, andoccasionally the sobs of a woman. 

"Horrible!" cried the police agent, who was peering through theshutters; "it is horrible!"

This exclamation decided Gevrol. "Open, in the name of the law!" hecried a third time. 

And no one responding, with a blow of the shoulder that was as violentas a blow from a battering-ram, he dashed open the door. Then thehorror-stricken accent of the man who had been peering through theshutters was explained. The room presented such a spectacle that allthe agents, and even Gevrol himself, remained for a moment rooted to thethreshold, shuddering with unspeakable horror. 

Everything denoted that the house had been the scene of a terriblestruggle, of one of those savage conflicts which only too often stainthe barriere drinking dens with blood. The lights had been extinguishedat the beginning of the strife, but a blazing fire of pine logsilluminated even the furthest corners of the room. Tables, glasses, decanters, household utensils, and stools had been overturned, thrownin every direction, trodden upon, shivered into fragments. Nearthe fireplace two men lay stretched upon the floor. They were lyingmotionless upon their backs, with their arms crossed. A third wasextended in the middle of the room. A woman crouched upon the lowersteps of a staircase leading to the floor above. She had thrown herapron over her head, and was uttering inarticulate moans. Finally, facing the police, and with his back turned to an open door leading intoan adjoining room, stood a young man, in front of whom a heavy oakentable formed, as it were, a rampart. 

He was of medium stature, and wore a full beard. His clothes, not unlikethose of a railway porter, were torn to fragments, and soiled with dustand wine and blood. This certainly was the murderer. The expression onhis face was terrible. A mad fury blazed in his eyes, and a convulsivesneer distorted his features. On his neck and cheek were two woundswhich bled profusely. In his right hand, covered with a handkerchief, heheld a pistol, which he aimed at the intruders. 

"Surrender!" cried Gevrol. 

The man's lips moved, but in spite of a visible effort he could notarticulate a syllable. 

"Don't do any mischief, " continued the inspector, "we are in force, youcan not escape; so lay down your arms. "

"I am innocent, " exclaimed the man, in a hoarse, strained voice. 

"Naturally, but we do not see it. "

"I have been attacked; ask that old woman. I defended myself; I havekilled--I had a right to do so; it was in self-defense!"

The gesture with which he enforced these words was so menacing that oneof the agents drew Gevrol violently aside, saying, as he did so; "Takecare, General, take care! The revolver has five barrels, and we haveheard but two shots. "

But the inspector was inaccessible to fear; he freed himself from thegrasp of his subordinate and again stepped forward, speaking in a stillcalmer tone. "No foolishness, my lad; if your case is a good one, whichis possible, after all, don't spoil it. "

A frightful indecision betrayed itself on the young man's features. Heheld Gevrol's life at the end of his finger, was he about to press thetrigger? No, he suddenly threw his weapon to the floor, exclaiming:"Come and take me!" And turning as he spoke he darted into the adjoiningroom, hoping doubtless to escape by some means of egress which he knewof. 

Gevrol had expected this movement. He sprang after him with outstretchedarms, but the table retarded his pursuit. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "thewretch escapes us!"

But the fate of the fugitive was already decided. While Gevrol parleyed, one of the agents--he who had peered through the shutters--had gone tothe rear of the house and effected an entrance through the back door. Asthe murderer darted out, this man sprang upon him, seized him, and withsurprising strength and agility dragged him back. The murderer tried toresist; but in vain. He had lost his strength: he tottered and fell uponthe table that had momentarily protected him, murmuring loud enough forevery one to hear: "Lost! It is the Prussians who are coming!"

This simple and decisive maneuvre on the part of the subordinate had wonthe victory, and at first it greatly delighted the inspector. "Good, myboy, " said he, "very good! Ah! you have a talent for your business, andyou will do well if ever an opportunity--"

But he checked himself; all his followers so evidently shared hisenthusiasm that a feeling of jealousy overcame him. He felt his prestigediminishing, and hastened to add: "The idea had occurred to me; but Icould not give the order without warning the scoundrel himself. "

This remark was superfluous. All the police agents had now gatheredaround the murderer. They began by binding his feet and hands, and thenfastened him securely to a chair. He offered no resistance. His wildexcitement had given place to that gloomy prostration that follows allunnatural efforts, either of mind or body. Evidently he had abandonedhimself to his fate. 

When Gevrol saw that the men had finished their task, he called on themto attend to the other inmates of the den, and in addition ordered thelamps to be lit for the fire was going out. The inspector began hisexamination with the two men lying near the fireplace. He laid his handon their hearts, but no pulsations were to be detected. He then heldthe face of his watch close to their lips, but the glass remained quiteclear. "Useless, " he murmured, after several trials, "useless; they aredead! They will never see morning again. Leave them in the same positionuntil the arrival of the public prosecutor, and let us look at the otherone. "

The third man still breathed. He was a young fellow, wearing the uniformof a common soldier of the line. He was unarmed, and his large bluishgray cloak was partly open, revealing his bare chest. The agentslifted him very carefully--for he groaned piteously at the slightestmovement--and placed him in an upright position, with his back leaningagainst the wall. He soon opened his eyes, and in a faint voice askedfor something to drink. They brought him a glass of water, which hedrank with evident satisfaction. He then drew a long breath, and seemedto regain some little strength. 

"Where are you wounded?" asked Gevrol. 

"In the head, there, " he responded, trying to raise one of his arms. "Oh! how I suffer. "

The police agent, who had cut off the murderer's retreat now approached, and with a dexterity that an old surgeon might have envied, made anexamination of the gaping wound which the young man had received in theback of the neck. "It is nothing, " declared the police agent, but ashe spoke there was no mistaking the movement of his lower lip. It wasevident that he considered the wound very dangerous, probably mortal. 

"It will be nothing, " affirmed Gevrol in his turn; "wounds in the head, when they do not kill at once, are cured in a month. "

The wounded man smiled sadly. "I have received my death blow, " hemurmured. 

"Nonsense!"

"Oh! it is useless to say anything; I feel it, but I do not complain. Ihave only received my just deserts. "

All the police agents turned toward the murderer on hearing these words, presuming that he would take advantage of this opportunity to repeat hisprotestations of innocence. But their expectations were disappointed; hedid not speak, although he must certainly have heard the words. 

"It was that brigand, Lacheneur, who enticed me here, " continued thewounded man, in a voice that was growing fainter. 

"Lacheneur?"

"Yes, Jean Lacheneur, a former actor, who knew me when I was rich--for Ihad a fortune, but I spent it all; I wished to amuse myself. He, knowingI was without a single sou in the world, came and promised me moneyenough to begin life over again. Fool that I was to believe him, for hebrought me to die here like a dog! Oh! I will have my revenge on him!"At this thought the wounded man clenched his hands threateningly. "Iwill have my revenge, " he resumed. "I know much more than he believes. Iwill reveal everything. "

But he had presumed too much upon his strength. Anger had given him amoment's energy, but at the cost of his life which was ebbing away. Whenhe again tried to speak, he could not. Twice did he open his lips, butonly a choking cry of impotent rage escaped them. This was his lastmanifestation of intelligence. A bloody foam gathered upon his lips, hiseyes rolled back in their sockets, his body stiffened, and he fell facedownward in a terrible convulsion. 

"It is over, " murmured Gevrol. 

"Not yet, " replied the young police agent, who had shown himself soproficient; "but he can not live more than two minutes. Poor devil! hewill say nothing. "

The inspector of police had risen from the floor as if he had justwitnessed the commonest incident in the world, and was carefully dustingthe knees of his trousers. "Oh, well, " he responded, "we shall knowall we need to know. This fellow is a soldier, and the number of hisregiment will be given on the buttons of his cloak. "

A slight smile curved the lips of the subordinate. "I think you aremistaken, General, " said he. 

"How--"

"Yes, I understand. Seeing him attired in a military coat, yousupposed--But no; this poor wretch was no soldier. Do you wish for animmediate proof? Is his hair the regulation cut? Where did you ever seesoldiers with their hair falling over their shoulders?"

This objection silenced the General for a moment; but he repliedbruskly: "Do you think that I keep my eyes in my pocket? What you haveremarked did not escape my notice; only I said to myself, here is ayoung man who has profited by leave of absence to visit the wig maker. "

"At least--"

But Gevrol would permit no more interruptions. "Enough talk, " hedeclared. "We will now hear what has happened. Mother Chupin, the oldhussy, is not dead!"

As he spoke, he advanced toward the old woman, who was still crouchingupon the stairs. She had not moved nor ventured so much as a look sincethe entrance of the police, but her moans had not been discontinued. With a sudden movement, Gevrol tore off the apron which she had thrownover her head, and there she stood, such as years, vice, poverty, anddrink had made her; wrinkled, shriveled, toothless, and haggard, herskin as yellow and as dry as parchment and drawn tightly over her bones. 

"Come, stand up!" ordered the inspector. "Your lamentations don't affectme. You ought to be sent to prison for putting such vile drugs into yourliquors, thus breeding madness in the brains of your customers. "

The old woman's little red eyes traveled slowly round the room, and thenin tearful tones she exclaimed: "What a misfortune! what will become ofme? Everything is broken--I am ruined!" She only seemed impressed by theloss of her table utensils. 

"Now tell us how this trouble began, " said Gevrol. 

"Alas! I know nothing about it. I was upstairs mending my son's clothes, when I heard a dispute. "

"And after that?"

"Of course I came down, and I saw those three men that are lyingthere picking a quarrel with the young man you have arrested; the poorinnocent! For he is innocent, as truly as I am an honest woman. If myson Polyte had been here he would have separated them; but I, a poorwidow, what could I do! I cried 'Police!' with all my might. "

After giving this testimony she resumed her seat, thinking she had saidenough. But Gevrol rudely ordered her to stand up again. "Oh! we havenot done, " said he. "I wish for other particulars. "

"What particulars, dear Monsieur Gevrol, since I saw nothing?"

Anger crimsoned the inspector's ears. "What would you say, old woman, ifI arrested you?"

"It would be a great piece of injustice. "

"Nevertheless, it is what will happen if you persist in remainingsilent. I have an idea that a fortnight in Saint Lazare would untie yourtongue. "

These words produced the effect of an electric shock on the WidowChupin. She suddenly ceased her hypocritical lamentations, rose, placedher hands defiantly on her hips, and poured forth a torrent of invectiveupon Gevrol and his agents, accusing them of persecuting her family eversince they had previously arrested her son, a good-for-nothing fellow. Finally, she swore that she was not afraid of prison, and would be onlytoo glad to end her days in jail beyond the reach of want. 

At first the General tried to impose silence upon the terribletermagant: but he soon discovered that he was powerless; besides, allhis subordinates were laughing. Accordingly he turned his back upon her, and, advancing toward the murderer, he said: "You, at least, will notrefuse an explanation. "

The man hesitated for a moment. "I have already said all that I have tosay, " he replied, at last. "I have told you that I am innocent; and thiswoman and a man on the point of death who was struck down by my hand, have both confirmed my declaration. What more do you desire? When thejudge questions me, I will, perhaps, reply; until then do not expectanother word from me. "

It was easy to see that the fellow's resolution was irrevocable; andthat he was not to be daunted by any inspector of police. Criminalsfrequently preserve an absolute silence, from the very moment they arecaptured. These men are experienced and shrewd, and lawyers and judgespass many sleepless nights on their account. They have learned thata system of defense can not be improvised at once; that it is, on thecontrary, a work of patience and meditation; and knowing what a terribleeffect an apparently insignificant response drawn from them at themoment of detection may produce on a court of justice, they remainobstinately silent. So as to see whether the present culprit was an oldhand or not, Gevrol was about to insist on a full explanation when someone announced that the soldier had just breathed his last. 

"As that is so, my boys, " the inspector remarked, "two of you willremain here, and I will leave with the others. I shall go and arousethe commissary of police, and inform him of the affair; he will takethe matter in hand: and we can then do whatever he commands. Myresponsibility will be over, in any case. So untie our prisoner'slegs and bind Mother Chupin's hands, and we will drop them both at thestation-house as we pass. "

The men hastened to obey, with the exception of the youngest among them, the same who had won the General's passing praise. He approached hischief, and motioning that he desired to speak with him, drew him outsidethe door. When they were a few steps from the house, Gevrol asked himwhat he wanted. 

"I wish to know, General, what you think of this affair. "

"I think, my boy, that four scoundrels encountered each other in thisvile den. They began to quarrel; and from words they came to blows. One of them had a revolver, and he killed the others. It is as clear asdaylight. According to his antecedents, and according to the antecedentsof the victims, the assassin will be judged. Perhaps society owes himsome thanks. "

"And you think that any investigation--any further search isunnecessary. "

"Entirely unnecessary. "

The younger man appeared to deliberate for a moment. "It seems to me, General, " he at length replied, "that this affair is not perfectlyclear. Have you noticed the murderer, remarked his demeanor, andobserved his look? Have you been surprised as I have been--?"

"By what?"

"Ah, well! it seems to me--I may, of course, be mistaken--but I fancythat appearances are deceitful, and--Yes, I suspect something. "

"Bah!--explain yourself, please. "

"How can you explain the dog's faculty of scent?"

Gevrol shrugged his shoulders. "In short, " he replied, "you scent amelodrama here--a rendezvous of gentlemen in disguise, here at thePoivriere, at Mother Chupin's house. Well, hunt after the mystery, myboy; search all you like, you have my permission. "

"What! you will allow me?"

"I not only allow you, I order you to do it. You are going to remainhere with any one of your comrades you may select. And if you findanything that I have not seen, I will allow you to buy me a pair ofspectacles. "

II

The young police agent to whom Gevrol abandoned what he thought anunnecessary investigation was a debutant in his profession. His namewas Lecoq. He was some twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, almostbeardless, very pale, with red lips, and an abundance of wavy blackhair. He was rather short but well proportioned; and each of hismovements betrayed unusual energy. There was nothing remarkable abouthis appearance, if we except his eyes, which sparkled brilliantly orgrew extremely dull, according to his mood; and his nose, the large fullnostrils of which had a surprising mobility. 

The son of a respectable, well-to-do Norman family, Lecoq had receiveda good and solid education. He was prosecuting his law studies in Paris, when in the same week, blow following blow, he learned that his fatherhad died, financially ruined, and that his mother had survived him onlya few hours. He was left alone in the world, destitute of resources, obliged to earn his living. But how? He had an opportunity of learninghis true value, and found that it amounted to nothing; for theuniversity, on bestowing its diploma of bachelor, does not give anannuity with it. Hence of what use is a college education to a poororphan boy? He envied the lot of those who, with a trade at the ends oftheir fingers, could boldly enter the office of any manufacturer, andsay: "I would like to work. " Such men were working and eating. Lecoqsought bread by all the methods employed by people who are in reducedcircumstances! Fruitless labor! There are a hundred thousand people inParis who have seen better days. No matter! He gave proofs of undauntedenergy. He gave lessons, and copied documents for a lawyer. He madehis appearance in a new character almost every day, and left no meansuntried to earn an honest livelihood. At last he obtained employmentfrom a well-known astronomer, the Baron Moser, and spent his days insolving bewildering and intricate problems, at the rate of a hundredfrancs a month. 

But a season of discouragement came. After five years of constant toil, he found himself at the same point from which he had started. He wasnearly crazed with rage and disappointment when he recapitulated hisblighted hopes, his fruitless efforts, and the insults he had endured. The past had been sad, the present was intolerable, the futurethreatened to be terrible. Condemned to constant privations, he tried toescape from the horrors of his real life by taking refuge in dreams. 

Alone in his garret, after a day of unremitting toil, assailed by thethousand longings of youth, Lecoq endeavored to devise some means ofsuddenly making himself rich. All reasonable methods being beyond hisreach, it was not long before he was engaged in devising the worstexpedients. In short, this naturally moral and honest young man spentmuch of his time in perpetrating--in fancy--the most abominable crimes. Sometimes he himself was frightened by the work of his imagination: foran hour of recklessness might suffice to make him pass from the ideato the fact, from theory to practise. This is the case with allmonomaniacs; an hour comes in which the strange conceptions that havefilled their brains can be no longer held in check. 

One day he could not refrain from exposing to his patron a little planhe had conceived, which would enable him to obtain five or six hundredfrancs from London. Two letters and a telegram were all that wasnecessary, and the game was won. It was impossible to fail, and therewas no danger of arousing suspicion. 

The astronomer, amazed at the simplicity of the plan, could but admireit. On reflection, however, he concluded that it would not be prudentfor him to retain so ingenious a secretary in his service. This waswhy, on the following day, he gave him a month's pay in advance, anddismissed him, saying: "When one has your disposition, and is poor, onemay either become a famous thief or a great detective. Choose. "

Lecoq retired in confusion; but the astronomer's words bore fruit in hismind. "Why should I not follow good advice?" he asked himself. Policeservice did not inspire him with repugnance--far from it. He had oftenadmired that mysterious power whose hand is everywhere, and which, although unseen and unheard, still manages to hear and see everything. He was delighted with the prospect of being the instrument of such apower. He considered that the profession of detective would enable himto employ the talents with which he had been endowed in a useful andhonorable fashion; besides opening out a life of thrilling adventurewith fame as its goal. 

In short, this profession had a wonderful charm for him. So much so, that on the following week, thanks to a letter from Baron Moser, he wasadmitted into the service. A cruel disenchantment awaited him. He hadseen the results, but not the means. His surprise was like that of asimple-minded frequenter of the theatre, when he is admitted for thefirst time behind the scenes, and is able to pry into the decorationsand tinsel that are so dazzling at a distance. 

However, the opportunity for which he had so ardently longed, for whichhe had been waiting during many weary months, had come, he thought, at last, as he reached the Poivriere with Gevrol and the other policeagents. While he was clinging to the window shutters he saw by thelight of his ambition a pathway to success. It was at first only apresentiment, but it soon became a supposition, and then a convictionbased upon actual facts, which had escaped his companions, but whichhe had observed and carefully noted. He recognized that fortune had, atlast, turned in his favor when he saw Gevrol neglect all but the merestformalities of examination, and when he heard him declare peremptorilythat this triple murder was merely the result of one of those ferociousquarrels so frequent among vagrants in the outskirts of the city. 

"Ah, well!" he thought; "have it your own way--trust in appearances, since you will see nothing beneath them! But I will prove to you that myyouthful theory is better than all your experience. "

The inspector's carelessness gave Lecoq a perfect right to secretly seekinformation on his own account; but by warning his superior officersbefore attempting anything on his own responsibility, he would protecthimself against any accusation of ambition or of unduly taking advantageof his comrade. Such charges might prove most dangerous for his futureprospects in a profession where so much rivalry is seen, and wherewounded vanity has so many opportunities to avenge itself by resortingto all sorts of petty treason. Accordingly, he spoke to his superiorofficer--saying just enough to be able to remark, in case of success:"Ah! I warned you!"--just enough so as not to dispel any of Gevrol'sdoubts. 

The permission which Lecoq obtained to remain in charge of the bodieswas his first triumph of the best possible augury; but he knew how todissimulate, and it was in a tone of the utmost indifference that herequested one of his comrades to remain with him. Then, while the otherswere making ready to depart, he seated himself upon the corner of thetable, apparently oblivious of all that was passing around. He did notdare to lift his head, for fear of betraying his joy, so much didhe fear that his companions might read his hopes and plans in theexpression of his face. 

Inwardly he was wild with impatience. Though the murderer submitted withgood grace to the precautions that were taken to prevent his escape, itrequired some time to bind the hands of the Widow Chupin, who fought andhowled as if they were burning her alive. "They will never go!" Lecoqmurmured to himself. 

They did so at last, however. Gevrol gave the order to start, and leftthe house, addressing a laughing good-by to his subordinate. The lattermade no reply. He followed his comrades as far as the threshold to makesure that they were really going, for he trembled at the thought thatGevrol might reflect, change his mind, and return to solve the mystery, as was his right. 

His anxiety was needless, however. The squad gradually faded away in thedistance, and the cries of Widow Chupin died away in the stillness ofthe night. It was only then that Lecoq reentered the room. He couldno longer conceal his delight; his eyes sparkled as might those of aconqueror taking possession of some vast empire: he stamped his footupon the floor and exclaimed with exultation: "Now the mystery belongsto us two alone!"

Authorized by Gevrol to choose one of his comrades to remain with him atthe Poivriere, Lecoq had requested the least intelligent of the partyto keep him company. He was not influenced by a fear of being obliged toshare the fruits of success with his companion, but by the necessity ofhaving an assistant from whom he could, in case of need, exact implicitobedience. 

The comrade Lecoq selected was a man of about fifty, who, after a termof cavalry service, had become an agent of the prefecture. In the humbleoffice that he occupied he had seen prefect succeed prefect, and mightprobably have filled an entire prison with the culprits he had arrestedwith his own hands. Experience had not, however, made him any theshrewder or any the more zealous. Still he had this merit, when hereceived an order he executed it with military exactitude, so far as heunderstood it. Of course if he had failed to understand it, so much theworse. It might, indeed, be said of him, that he discharged his dutieslike a blind man, like an old horse trained for a riding school. 

When he had a moment's leisure, and a little money in his pocket, heinvariably got drunk. Indeed, he spent his life between two fits ofintoxication, without ever rising above a condition of semi-lucidity. His comrades had known, but had forgotten, his name, and his partialityfor a certain beverage had accordingly induced them to call him "FatherAbsinthe. "

With his limited powers of observation, he naturally did not observethe tone of triumph in his young companion's voice. "Upon my word, " heremarked, when they were alone, "your idea of keeping me here was a goodone, and I thank you for it. While the others spend the night paddlingabout in the slush, I shall get a good sleep. "

Here he stood, in a room that was splashed with blood, that wasshuddering, so to speak, with crime, and yet face to face with the stillwarm bodies of three murdered men he could talk of sleep!

But, after all, what did it matter to him? He had seen so many similarscenes in his time. And does not habit infallibly lead to professionalindifference, making the soldier cool and composed in the midst ofconflict, and rendering the surgeon impassible when the patient shrieksand writhes beneath his operating knife. 

"I have been upstairs, looking about, " pursued Father Absinthe; "I saw abed up there, and we can mount guard here, by turns. "

With an imperious gesture, Lecoq interrupted him. "You must give upthat idea, Father Absinthe, " he said, "we are not here to sleep, but tocollect information--to make the most careful researches, and to noteall the probabilities. In a few hours the commissary of police, thelegal physician, and the public prosecutor will be here. I wish to havea report ready for them. "

This proposition seemed anything but pleasing to the old police agent. "Eh! what is the use of that?" he exclaimed. "I know the General. Whenhe goes in search of the commissary, as he has gone this evening, thereis nothing more to be done. Do you think you can see anything that hedidn't see?"

"I think that Gevrol, like every one else, is liable to be mistaken. Ithink that he believes too implicitly in what seems to him evidence. Icould swear that this affair is not what it seems to be; and I am surethat if we like we can discover the mystery which is concealed beneathpresent appearances. "

Although Lecoq's vehemence was intense, he did not succeed in makingany impression upon his companion, who with a yawn that threatened todislocate his jaws replied: "Perhaps you are right; but I am going tobed. This need not prevent you from searching around, however; and ifyou find anything you can wake me. "

Lecoq made no sign of impatience: nor in reality was he impatient. Thesewords afforded him the opportunity for which he was longing. "You willgive me a moment first, " he remarked. "In five minutes, by your watch, Ipromise to let you put your finger on the mystery that I suspect here. "

"Well, go on for five minutes. "

"After that you shall be free, Father Absinthe. Only it is clear that ifI unravel the mystery alone, I alone ought to pocket the reward that asolution will certainly bring. "

At the word "reward" the old police agent pricked up his ears. He wasdazzled by the vision of an infinite number of bottles of the greenishliquor whose name he bore. "Convince me, then, " said he, taking a seatupon a stool, which he had lifted from the floor. 

Lecoq remained standing in front of him. "To begin with, " he remarked, "whom do you suppose the person we have just arrested to be?"

"A porter, probably, or a vagabond. "

"That is to say, a man belonging to the lowest class of society:consequently, a fellow without education. "

"Certainly. "

Lecoq spoke with his eyes fixed upon those of his companion. Hedistrusted his own powers, as is usual with persons of real merit, buthe felt that if he could succeed in making his convictions penetrate hiscomrade's obtuse mind, their exactitude would be virtually proved. 

"And now, " he continued, "what would you say if I showed you that thisyoung man had received an excellent, even refined, education?"

"I should reply that it was very extraordinary. I should reply that--butwhat a fool I am! You have not proved it to me yet. "

"But I can do so very easily. Do you remember the words that he utteredas he fell?"

"Yes, I remember them perfectly. He said: 'It is the Prussians who arecoming. '"

"What do you suppose he meant by that?"

"What a question! I should suppose that he did not like the Prussians, and that he supposed he was offering us a terrible insult. "

Lecoq was waiting anxiously for this response. "Ah, well; FatherAbsinthe, " he said gravely, "you are wrong, quite wrong. And that thisman has an education superior to his apparent position is proved by thefact that you did not understand his meaning, nor his intention. It wasthis single phrase that enlightened me. "

Father Absinthe's physiognomy expressed the strange and comicalperplexity of a man who is so thoroughly mystified that he knows notwhether to laugh, or to be angry. After reflecting a little, he decidedto adopt the latter course. "You are rather too young to impose upon anold fellow like me, " he remarked. "I don't like boasters--"

"One moment!" interrupted Lecoq; "allow me to explain. You havecertainly heard of a terrible battle which resulted in one of thegreatest defeats that ever happened to France--the battle of Waterloo?"

"I don't see the connection--"

"Answer, if you please. "

"Yes--then! I have heard of it!"

"Very well; you must know then that for some time victory seemed likelyto rest with the banners of France. The English began to fall back, andthe emperor had already exclaimed: 'We have them!' when suddenly on theright, a little in the rear, a large body of troops was seen advancing. It was the Prussian army. The battle of Waterloo was lost. "

In all his life, worthy Father Absinthe had never made such a strenuouseffort to understand anything. In this case his perseverance was notwholly useless, for, springing from his stool, and probably in much thesame tone that Archimedes cried "Eureka!" he exclaimed, "I understand. The man's words were only an allusion. "

"It is as you have said, " remarked Lecoq, approvingly. "But I hadnot finished. If the emperor was thrown into consternation by theappearance of the Prussians, it was because he was momentarilyexpecting the arrival of one of his own generals from the samedirection--Grouchy--with thirty-five thousand men. So if this man'sallusion was exact and complete, he was not expecting an enemy, but afriend. Now draw your own conclusions. "

Father Absinthe was amazed but convinced: and his eyes, heavy with sleepa few moments before, now opened to their widest extent. "Good heavens!"he murmured, "if you put it in that way! But I forget; you must haveseen something as you were looking through the shutters. "

The young man shook his head. "Upon my honor, " he declared, "I sawnothing save the struggle between the murderer and the poor devildressed as a soldier. It was that sentence alone that aroused myattention. "

"Wonderful! prodigious!" exclaimed the astonished old man. 

"I will add that reflection has confirmed my suspicions. I ask myselfwhy this man, instead of flying at once, should have waited and remainedthere, at that door, to parley with us. "

With a bound, Father Absinthe sprang again to his feet. "Why?" heinterrupted; "because he had accomplices, and he wished to give themtime to escape. Ah! I understand it all now. "

A triumphant smile parted Lecoq's lips. "That is what I said to myself, "he replied, "and now it is easy to verify my suspicions. There is snowoutside, isn't there?"

It was not necessary to say any more. The elder officer seized thelight, and followed by his companion, he hastened to the back door ofthe house, which opened into a small garden. In this sheltered enclosurethe snow had not melted, and upon its white surface the dark stainsof numerous footprints presented themselves. Without hesitation, Lecoq threw himself upon his knees in the snow; he rose again almostimmediately. "These indentations were not made by the men's feet, " saidhe. "There have been women here. "

III

Obstinate men of Father Absinthe's stamp, who are at first alwaysinclined to differ from other people's opinions, are the veryindividuals who end in madly adopting them. When an idea has at lastpenetrated their empty brains, they twist and turn it, dwell upon it, and develop it until it exceeds the bounds of reason. 

Hence, the police veteran was now much more strongly convinced thanhis companion that the usually clever Gevrol had been mistaken, andaccordingly he laughed the inspector to scorn. On hearing Lecoq affirmthat women had taken part in the horrible scene at the Poivriere, hisjoy was extreme--"A fine affair!" he exclaimed; "an excellent case!" Andsuddenly recollecting a maxim that has been handed down from the timeof Cicero, he added in sententious tones: "Who holds the woman holds thecause!"

Lecoq did not deign to reply. He was standing upon the threshold, leaning against the framework of the door, his hand pressed to hisforehead, as motionless as a statue. The discovery he had just made, andwhich so delighted Father Absinthe, filled him with consternation. Itwas the death of his hopes, the annihilation of the ingenious structurewhich his imagination had built upon the foundation of a singlesentence. 

There was no longer any mystery--, so celebrity was not to be gained bya brilliant stroke!

For the presence of two women in this vile den explained everything inthe most natural and commonplace fashion. Their presence explained thequarrel, the testimony of Widow Chupin, the dying declaration of thepretended soldier. The behavior of the murderer was also explained. Hehad remained to cover the retreat of the two women; he had sacrificedhimself in order to save them, an act of gallantry so common in theFrench character, that any scoundrel of the barrieres might haveperformed it. 

Still, the strange allusion to the battle of Waterloo remainedunexplained. But what did that prove now? Nothing, simply nothing. However, who could say how low an unworthy passion might cause a maneven of birth and breeding to descend? And the carnival afforded anopportunity for the parties to disguise themselves. 

But while Lecoq was turning and twisting all these probabilities in hismind, Father Absinthe became impatient. "Are we going to remain hereuntil doomsday?" he asked. "Are we to pause just at the moment when oursearch has been productive of such brilliant results?"

"Brilliant results!" These words stung the young man as deeply as thekeenest irony could have done. "Leave me alone, " he replied gruffly;"and, above all, don't walk about the garden, as by doing so, you'lldamage any footprints. "

His companion swore a little; but soon became silent in his turn. He wasconstrained to submit to the irresistible ascendency of superior willand intelligence. 

Lecoq was engaged in following out his course of reasoning. "Themurderer, leaving the ball at the Rainbow, a dancing-house not far fromhere, near the fortifications, came to this wine-shop, accompanied bytwo women. He found three men drinking here, who either began teasinghim, or who displayed too much gallantry toward his companions. Hebecame angry. The others threatened him; he was one against three; hewas armed; he became wild with rage, and fired--"

He checked himself, and an instant after added, aloud: "But was it themurderer who brought these women here? If he is tried, this will be theimportant point. It is necessary to obtain information regarding it. "

He immediately went back into the house, closely followed by hiscolleague, and began an examination of the footprints round about thedoor that Gevrol had forced open. Labor lost. There was but little snowon the ground near the entrance of the hovel, and so many personshad passed in and out that Lecoq could discover nothing. What adisappointment after his patient hopes! Lecoq could have criedwith rage. He saw the opportunity for which he had sighed so longindefinitely postponed. He fancied he could hear Gevrol's coarsesarcasms. "Enough of this, " he murmured, under his breath. "The Generalwas right, and I am a fool!"

He was so positively convinced that one could do no more than discoverthe circumstances of some commonplace, vulgar broil, that he began towonder if it would not be wise to renounce his search and take a nap, while awaiting the coming of the commissary of police. 

But Father Absinthe was no longer of this opinion. This worthy man, whowas far from suspecting the nature of his companion's reflections couldnot explain his inaction. "Come! my boy, " said he, "have you lost yourwits? This is losing time, it seems to me. The authorities will arrivein a few hours, and what report shall we be able to give them! As forme, if you desire to go to sleep, I shall pursue the investigationalone. "

Disappointed as he was, the young police officer could not repress asmile. He recognized his own exhortation of a few moments before. Itwas the old man who had suddenly become intrepid. "To work, then!" hesighed, like a man who, while foreseeing defeat, wishes, at least, tohave no cause for self-reproach. 

He found it, however, extremely difficult to follow the footprints inthe open air by the uncertain light of a candle, which was extinguishedby the least breath of wind. "I wonder if there is a lantern in thehouse, " he said. "If we could only lay our hands upon one!"

They searched everywhere, and, at last, upstairs in the Widow Chupin'sown room, they found a well-trimmed lantern, so small and compact thatit certainly had never been intended for honest purposes. 

"A regular burglar's implement, " said Father Absinthe, with a coarselaugh. 

The implement was useful in any case; as both men agreed whenthey returned to the garden and recommenced their investigationssystematically. They advanced very slowly and with extreme caution. Theold man carefully held the lantern in the best position, while Lecoq, on his knees, studied each footprint with the attention of a chiromancerprofessing to read the future in the hand of a rich client. Thisnew examination assured Lecoq that he had been correct in his firstsupposition. It was plain that two women had left the Poivriere by theback door. They had started off running, as was proved by the length ofthe steps and the shape of the footprints. 

The difference in the tracks left by the two fugitives was so remarkablethat it did not escape Father Absinthe's eyes. "Sapristi!" he muttered;"one of these jades can boast of having a pretty foot at the end of herleg!"

He was right. One of the tracks betrayed a small, coquettish, slenderfoot, clad in an elegant high-heeled boot with a narrow sole and anarched instep. The other denoted a broad, short foot growing widertoward the end. It had evidently been incased in a strong, low shoe. 

This was indeed a clue. Lecoq's hopes at once revived; so eagerly doesa man welcome any supposition that is in accordance with his desires. Trembling with anxiety, he went to examine some other footprints a shortdistance from these; and an excited exclamation at once escaped hislips. 

"What is it?" eagerly inquired the other agent: "what do you see?"

"Come and look for yourself, see there!" cried Lecoq. 

The old man bent down, and his surprise was so great that he almostdropped the lantern. "Oh!" said he in a stifled voice, "a man'sfootprint!"

"Exactly. And this fellow wore the finest of boots. See that imprint, how clear, how neat it is!"

Worthy Father Absinthe was scratching his ear furiously, his usualmethod of quickening his rather slow wits. "But it seems to me, " heventured to say at last, "that this individual was not coming from thisill-fated hovel. "

"Of course not; the direction of the foot tells you that. No, he wasnot going away, he was coming here. But he did not pass beyond the spotwhere we are now standing. He was standing on tiptoe with outstretchedneck and listening ears, when, on reaching this spot, he heard somenoise, fear seized him, and he fled. "

"Or rather, the women were going out as he was coming, and--"

"No, the women were outside the garden when he entered it. "

This assertion seemed far too audacious to suit Lecoq's companion, whoremarked: "One can not be sure of that. "

"I am sure of it, however; and can prove it conclusively. If you doubtit, it is because your eyes are growing old. Bring your lantern a littlenearer--yes, here it is--our man placed his large foot upon one of themarks made by the woman with the small foot and almost effaced it. "This unexceptionable piece of circumstantial evidence stupefied the oldpolice agent. 

"Now, " continued Lecoq, "could this man have been the accomplice whomthe murderer was expecting? Might it not have been some strollingvagrant whose attention was attracted by the two pistol shots? This iswhat we must ascertain. And we will ascertain it. Come!"

A wooden fence of lattice-work, rather more than three feet high, was all that separated the Widow Chupin's garden from the waste landsurrounding it. When Lecoq made the circuit of the house to cut off themurderer's escape he had encountered this obstacle, and, fearing lest heshould arrive too late, he had leaped the fence to the great detrimentof his pantaloons, without even asking himself if there was a gate ornot. There was one, however--a light gate of lattice-work similar to thefence, turning upon iron hinges, and closed by a wooden button. Now itwas straight toward this gate that these footprints in the snow led thetwo police agents. Some now thought must have struck the younger man, for he suddenly paused. "Ah!" he murmured, "these two women did not cometo the Poivriere this evening for the first time. "

"Why do you think that, my boy?" inquired Father Absinthe. 

"I could almost swear it. How, unless they were in the habit of comingto this den, could they have been aware of the existence of this gate?Could they have discovered it on such a dark, foggy night? No; for I, who can, without boasting, say that I have good eyes--I did not see it. "

"Ah! yes, that is true!"

"These two women, however, came here without hesitating, in a straightline; and note that to do this, it was necessary for them to cross thegarden diagonally. "

The veteran would have given something if he could have found someobjection to offer; but unfortunately he could find none. "Upon myword!" he exclaimed, "yours is a droll way of proceeding. You are onlya conscript; I am a veteran in the service, and have assisted in moreaffairs of this sort than you are years old, but never have I seen--"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Lecoq, "you will see much more. For example, Ican prove to you that although the women knew the exact position of thegate, the man knew it only by hearsay. "

"The proof!"

"The fact is easily demonstrated. Study the man's footprints, and you, who are very sharp, will see at once that he deviated greatly from thestraight course. He was in such doubt that he was obliged to search forthe gate with his hand stretched out before him--and his fingers haveleft their imprint on the thin covering of snow that lies upon the upperrailing of the fence. "

The old man would have been glad to verify this statement for himself, as he said, but Lecoq was in a hurry. "Let us go on, let us go on!" saidhe. "You can verify my assertions some other time. "

They left the garden and followed the footprints which led them towardthe outer boulevards, inclining somewhat in the direction of the Rue dePatay. There was now no longer any need of close attention. No one savethe fugitives had crossed this lonely waste since the last fall of snow. A child could have followed the track, so clear and distinct it was. Four series of footprints, very unlike in character, formed the track;two of these had evidently been left by the women; the other two, onegoing and one returning, had been made by the man. On several occasionsthe latter had placed his foot exactly on the footprints left by the twowomen, half effacing them, thus dispelling all doubt as to the precisemoment of his approach. 

About a hundred yards from the Poivriere, Lecoq suddenly seized hiscolleague's arm. "Halt!" he exclaimed, "we have reached a good place; Ican see unmistakable proofs. "

The spot, all unenclosed as it was, was evidently utilized by somebuilder for the storage of various kinds of lumber. The ground wasstrewn with large blocks of granite, some chiseled, some in the rough, with numerous long planks and logs of wood in their midst. In front ofone of these logs, the surface of which had been evidently wiped, allthe various footprints came together, mingling confusedly. 

"Here, " declared the young detective, "our fugitives met the man andtook counsel with him. One of the women, the one with the little feet, sat down upon this log. "

"We ought to make quite sure of that, " said Father Absinthe, in anoracular tone. 

But his companion cut short his desire for verification. "You, my oldfriend, " said he, "are going to do me the kindness to keep perfectlystill: pass me the lantern and do not move. "

Lecoq's modest tone had suddenly become so imperious that his colleaguedared offer no resistance. Like a soldier at the command to halt, he remained erect, motionless, and mute, following his colleague'smovements with an inquisitive, wondering eye. 

Quick in his motions, and understanding how to maneuvre the lanternin accordance with his wishes, the young police agent explored thesurroundings in a very short space of time. A bloodhound in pursuit ofhis prey would have been less alert, less discerning, less agile. Hecame and went, now turning, now pausing, now retreating, now hurrying onagain without any apparent reason; he scrutinized, he questioned everysurrounding object: the ground, the logs of wood, the blocks of stone, in a word, nothing escaped his glance. For a moment he would remainstanding, then fall upon his knees, and at times lie flat upon hisstomach with his face so near the ground that his breath must havemelted the snow. He had drawn a tape-line from his pocket, and using itwith a carpenter's dexterity, he measured, measured, and measured. 

And all his movements were accompanied with the wild gestures of amadman, interspersed with oaths or short laughs, with exclamations ofdisappointment or delight. After a quarter of an hour of this strangeexercise, he turned to Father Absinthe, placed the lantern on a stone, wiped his hands with his pocket-handkerchief, and said: "Now I knoweverything!"

"Well, that is saying a great deal!"

"When I say everything, I mean all that is connected with the episode ofthe drama which ended in that bloody bout in the hovel. This expanse ofearth covered with snow is a white page upon which the people we arein search of have written, not only their movements, their goings, and comings, but also their secret thoughts, their alternate hopes andanxieties. What do these footprints say to you, Papa Absinthe? To methey are alive like the persons who made them; they breathe, speak, accuse!"

The old agent was saying to himself: "Certainly, this fellow isintelligent, undeniably shrewd; but he is very disagreeable. "

"These are the facts as I have read them, " pursued Lecoq. "When themurderer repaired to the Poivriere with the two women, his companion--Ishould say his accomplice--came here to wait. He was a tall man ofmiddle age; he wore a soft hat and a shaggy brown overcoat; he was, moreover, probably married, or had been so, as he had a wedding-ring onthe little finger of his right hand--"

His companion's despairing gestures obliged the speaker to pause. This description of a person whose existence had but just now beendemonstrated, these precise details given in a tone of absolutecertainty, completely upset all Father Absinthe's ideas, increasing hisperplexity beyond all bounds. 

"This is not right, " he growled, "this is not kind. You are pokingfun at me. I take the thing seriously; I listen to you, I obey youin everything, and then you mock me in this way. We find a clue, and instead of following it up, you stop to relate all these absurdstories. "

"No, " replied his companion, "I am not jesting, and I have told younothing of which I am not absolutely sure, nothing that is not strictlyand indisputably true. "

"And you would have me believe--"

"Fear nothing, papa; I would not have you do violence to yourconvictions. When I have told you my reasons, and my means ofinformation, you will laugh at the simplicity of the theory that seemsso incomprehensible to you now. "

"Go on, then, " said the good man, in a tone of resignation. 

"We had decided, " rejoined Lecoq, "that the accomplice mounted guardhere. The time seemed long, and, growing impatient, he paced to andfro--the length of this log of wood--occasionally pausing to listen. Hearing nothing, he stamped his foot, doubtless exclaiming: 'What thedeuce has happened to him down there!' He had made about thirty turns (Ihave counted them), when a sound broke the stillness--the two women werecoming. "

On hearing Lecoq's recital, all the conflicting sentiments that areawakened in a child's mind by a fairy tale--doubt, faith, anxiety, and hope--filled Father Absinthe's heart. What should he believe? whatshould he refuse to believe? He did not know. How was he to separate thetrue from the false among all these equally surprising assertions? Onthe other hand, the gravity of his companion, which certainly was notfeigned, dismissed all idea of pleasantry. 

Finally, curiosity began to torture him. "We had reached the point wherethe women made their appearance, " said he. 

"Yes, indeed, " responded Lecoq, "but here all certainty ceases; no moreproofs, only suppositions. Still, I have every reason to believe thatour fugitives left the drinking den before the beginning of the fight, before the cries that attracted our attention. Who were they? I can onlyconjecture. I suspect, however, that they were not equals in rank. I aminclined to think that one was the mistress, the other her servant. "

"That is proved, " ventured the old man, "by the great difference intheir feet and in their shoes. "

This shrewd observation elicited a smile from Lecoq. "That difference, "he replied, seriously, "is something, of course; but it was not thatwhich decided me in my opinion. If greater or less perfection of theextremities regulated social distinctions, many mistresses would beservants. What struck me was this: when the two women rushed wildly fromMother Chupin's house, the woman with the small feet sprang across thegarden with one bound, she darted on some distance in advance of theother. The terror of the situation, the vileness of the den, the horrorof the scandal, the thought of safety, inspired her with marvelousenergy. But her strength, as often happens with delicate and nervouswomen, lasted only a few seconds. She was not half-way from thePoivriere when her speed relaxed, her limbs trembled. Ten steps fartheron she tottered and almost fell. Some steps farther, and she became soexhausted that she let go her hold upon her skirts; they trailed uponthe snow, tracing a faint circle there. Then the woman with the broadfeet came to aid her. She seized her companion round the waist; shedragged her along; their footprints here are mingled confusedly; then, seeing that her friend was about to fall, she caught her up in herstrong arms and carried her--for you will see that the footprints madeby the woman with the small feet suddenly cease at this point. "

Was Lecoq merely amusing himself by inventing this story? Was this sceneanything but a work of imagination? Was the accent of deep and sincereconviction which he imparted to his words only feigned?

Father Absinthe was still in doubt, but he thought of a way in which hemight satisfy his uncertainty. He caught up the lantern and hurried offto examine these footprints which he had not known how to read, whichhad been speechless to him, but which yielded their secret to another. He was obliged to agree with his companion. All that Lecoq had describedwas written there; he saw the confused footprints, the circle made bythe sweeping skirts, the cessation of the tiny imprints. 

On his return, his countenance betrayed a respectful and astonishedadmiration, and it was with a shade of embarrassment that he said: "Youcan scarcely blame an old man for being a little like St. Thomas. 'Ihave touched it with my fingers, ' and now I am content to follow you. "

The young police agent could not, indeed, blame his colleague for hisincredulity. Resuming his recital, he continued: "Then the accomplice, who had heard the fugitives coming, ran to meet them, and he aided thewoman with large feet in carrying her companion. The latter must havebeen really ill, for the accomplice took off his hat and used it inbrushing the snow off this log. Then, thinking the surface was notyet dry enough, he wiped it with the skirt of his overcoat. Were thesecivilities pure gallantry, or the usual attentions of an inferior? Ihave asked myself that question. This much, however, is certain, while the woman with the small feet was recovering her strength, halfreclining upon this board, the other took the accomplice a little onone side, five or six steps away to the left, just beside that enormousblock of granite. There she talked with him, and, as he listened, theman leaned upon the snow-covered stone. His hand left a very distinctimprint there. Then, as the conversation continued, he rested his elbowupon the snowy surface. "

Like all men of limited intelligence, Father Absinthe had suddenlypassed from unreasoning distrust to unquestioning confidence. Henceforth, he could believe anything for the very same reason thathad, at first, made him believe nothing. Having no idea of the boundsof human reasoning and penetration, he saw no limits to the conjecturalgenius of his companion. With perfect faith, therefore, he inquired:"And what was the accomplice saying to the woman with the broad shoes?"

Lecoq smiled at this simplicity, but the other did not see him do so. "It is rather difficult for me to answer that question, " replied theyoung detective, "I think, however, that the woman was explaining tothe man the immensity and imminence of the danger that threatened hiscompanion, and that they were trying to devise some means to rescue himfrom it. Perhaps she brought him orders given by the murderer. Itis certain that she ended by beseeching the accomplice to run to thePoivriere and see what was passing there. And he did so, for his tracksstart from this block of granite. "

"And only to think, " exclaimed Father Absinthe, "that we were in thehovel at that very moment. A word from Gevrol, and we might have hadhandcuffs on the whole gang! How unfortunate!"

Lecoq was not sufficiently disinterested to share his companion'sregret. On the contrary, he was very thankful for Gevrol's blunder. Hadit not been for that, how would he ever have found an opportunity ofinvestigating an affair that grew more and more mysterious as his searchproceeded, but which he hoped to fathom finally. 

"To conclude, " he resumed, "the accomplice soon returned, he hadwitnessed the scene, and was evidently afraid. He feared that thethought of exploring the premises might enter the minds of the police. It was to the lady with small feet that he addressed himself. Heexplained the necessity of flight, and told her that even a moment'sdelay might be fatal. At his words, she summoned all her energy; sherose and hastened away, clinging to the arm of her companion. Didthe man indicate the route they were to take, or did they know itthemselves? This much is certain, he accompanied them some distance, inorder to watch over them. But besides protecting these women, he had astill more sacred duty to perform--that of succoring his accomplice, ifpossible. He retraced his steps, passed by here once more, and thelast footprint that I can discover leads in the direction of the Ruedu Chateau des Rentiers. He wished to know what would become of themurderer, and went to place himself where he might see him pass by withhis captors. "

Like a dilettante who can scarcely restrain his applause until the closeof the aria that delights him, Father Absinthe had been unable duringthe recital to entirely suppress his admiration. But it was not untilLecoq ceased speaking that he gave full vent to his enthusiasm: "Here isa detective if you like!" he exclaimed. "And they pretend that Gevrol isshrewd! What has he ever done to compare with this? Ah! shall I tell youwhat I think? Why, in comparison with you, the General is a more Johnthe Baptist. "

Certainly the flattery was gross, but it was impossible to doubt itssincerity. This was the first time that the balmy dew of praise hadfallen upon Lecoq's vanity, and it greatly delighted him, although hemodestly replied: "Nonsense, you are too kind, papa. After all, whathave I done that is so very clever? I told you that the man was ofmiddle age. It was not difficult to see that after one had examined hisheavy, dragging step. I told you that he was tall--an easy matter. WhenI saw that he had been leaning upon that block of granite there to theleft, I measured the block in question. It is almost five feet fiveinches in height, consequently a man who could rest his elbow upon itmust be at least six feet high. The mark of his hand proves that I amnot mistaken. On seeing that he had brushed away the snow which coveredthe plank, I asked myself what he had used; I thought that it might behis cap, and the mark left by the peak proves that I was right. Finally, if I have discovered the color and the material of his overcoat, it isonly because when he wiped the wet board, some splinters of the woodtore off a few tiny flakes of brown wool, which I have found, and whichwill figure in the trial. But what does this amount to, after all?Nothing. We have only discovered the first clues of the affair. Still, we are on the right scent--so, forward then!"

The old officer was electrified, and, like an echo, he repeated:"Forward!"

IV

That night the vagabonds, who had taken refuge in the neighborhood ofthe Poivriere, had a very bad time of it; for while those who managedto sleep were disturbed by frightful dreams of a police raid, those whoremained awake witnessed some strange incidents, well calculated tofill their minds with terror. On hearing the shots fired inside MotherChupin's drinking den, most of the vagrants concluded that there hadbeen a collision between the police and some of their comrades, and theyimmediately began prowling about, eagerly listening and watching, andready to take flight at the least sign of danger. At first they coulddiscover no particular reasons for alarm. But later on, at about twoo'clock in the morning, just as they were beginning to feel secureagain, the fog lifted a little, and they witnessed a phenomenon wellcalculated to arouse anxiety. 

Upon the unoccupied tract of land, which the people of the neighborhoodcalled the "plain, " a small but very bright light was seen describingthe most capricious evolutions. It moved here and there without anyapparent aim, tracing the most inexplicable zigzags, sometimes sinkingto the earth, sometimes rising to a height of four or five feet, atothers remaining quite motionless, and the next second flying off likea ball. In spite of the place and the season of the year, the lessignorant among vagabonds believed the light to be some ignis fatuus, oneof those luminous meteors that raise from the marshes and float aboutin the atmosphere at the bidding of the wind. In point of fact, however, this ignis fatuus was the lantern by the light of which the two policeagents were pursuing their investigations. 

After thus suddenly revealing his capacity to his first disciple, Lecoqfound himself involved in a cruel perplexity. He had not the boldnessand promptness of decision which is the gift of a prosperous past, andwas hesitating between two courses, both equally reasonable, and bothoffering strong probabilities of success. He stood between two paths, that made by the two women on the one side, and that made by theaccomplice on the other. Which should he take? For he could not hopeto follow both. Seated upon the log where the women had rested a fewmoments before, with his hand pressed upon his forehead, he reflectedand weighed the chances. 

"If I follow the man I shall learn nothing that I do not know already. He has gone to hover round the party; he has followed them at adistance, he has seen them lock up his accomplice, and he is undoubtedlyprowling round about the station house. If I hurried in pursuit, could Ihope to overtake and capture him? No; too long a time has elapsed. "

Father Absinthe listened to this monologue with intense curiosity, as anxious as an unsophisticated person who, having questioned aclairvoyant in regard to some lost articles, is waiting the oracle'sresponse. 

"To follow the women, " continued the young man, "to what would thatlead? Perhaps to an important discovery, perhaps to nothing. "

However, he preferred the unknown, which, with all its chances offailure, had chances of success as well. He rose, his course wasdecided. 

"Father Absinthe, " said he, "we are going to follow the footprints ofthese two women, and wherever they lead us we will go. "

Inspired with equal ardor they began their walk. At the end of the pathupon which they had entered they fancied they observed, as in some magicglass, the one the fruits, the other the glory of success. They hurriedforward. At first it was only play to follow the distinct footprintsthat led toward the Seine. But it was not long before they were obligedto proceed more slowly. 

On leaving the waste ground they arrived at the outer limits ofcivilization, so to speak; and strange footprints mingled constantlywith the footprints of the fugitives, at times even effacing them. Inmany spots, either on account of exposure or the nature of the soil, the thaw had completed its work, and there were large patches of groundentirely free from snow. In such cases they lost the trail, and itrequired all Lecoq's sagacity and all his companion's good-will to findit again. 

On such occasions Father Absinthe planted his cane in the earth, nearthe last footprint that had been discovered, and Lecoq and himselfhunted all over the ground around this point, much after the fashionof a couple of bloodhounds thrown off the scent. Then it was that thelantern moved about so strangely. More than a dozen times, in spite ofall their efforts, they would have lost the clue entirely had it notbeen for the elegant shoes worn by the lady with the little feet. Thesehad such small and extremely high heels that the impression they leftcould not be mistaken. They sank down three or four inches in the snow, or the mud, and their tell-tale impress remained as clear and distinctas that of a seal. 

Thanks to these heels, the pursuers were able to discover that the twofugitives had not gone up the Rue de Patay, as might have been supposed. Probably they had considered this street too frequented, and too welllighted. They had only crossed it, just below the Rue de la Croix-Rouge, and had profited by an empty space between two houses to regain the openground. 

"Certainly these women were well acquainted with the locality, " murmuredLecoq. 

Indeed, the topography of the district evidently had no secrets forthem, for, on quitting the Rue de Patay, they had immediately turnedto the right, so as to avoid several large excavations, from which aquantity of brick clay had been dug. 

But at last the trail was recovered, and the detectives followed it asfar as the Rue du Chevaleret. Here the footprints abruptly ceased. Lecoqdiscovered eight or ten footmarks left by the woman who wore the broadshoes, but that was all. Hereabout, moreover, the condition of theground was not calculated to facilitate an exploration of this nature. There had been a great deal of passing to and fro in the Rue duChevaleret, and not merely was there scarcely any snow left on thefootpaths, but the middle of the street was transformed into a river ofslush. 

"Did these people recollect at last that the snow might betray them? Didthey take the middle of the road?" grumbled the young police agent. 

Certainly they could not have crossed to a vacant space as they had donejust before, for on the other side of the street extended a long factorywall. 

"Ah!" sighed Father Absinthe, "we have our labor for our pains. "

But Lecoq possessed a temperament that refused to acknowledge defeat. Animated by the cold anger of a man who sees the object which he wasabout to seize disappear from before his eyes, he recommenced hissearch, and was well repaid for his efforts. 

"I understand!" he cried suddenly, "I comprehend--I see!"

Father Absinthe drew near. He did not see nor divine anything! but he nolonger doubted his companion's powers. 

"Look there, " said Lecoq; "what are those marks?"

"Marks left by the wheels of some carriage that plainly turned here. "

"Very well, papa, these tracks explain everything. When they reachedthis spot, our fugitives saw the light of an approaching cab, whichwas returning from the centre of Paris. It was empty, and proved theirsalvation. They waited, and when it came nearer they hailed the driver. No doubt they promised him a handsome fare; this is indeed evident, since he consented to go back again. He turned round here; they got intothe vehicle, and that is why the footprints go no further. "

This explanation did not please Lecoq's companion. "Have we made anygreat progress now that we know that?" he asked. 

Lecoq could not restrain an impulse to shrug his shoulders. "Did youexpect that the tracks made by the fugitives would lead us through Parisand up to their very doors?" he asked. 

"No; but--"

"Then what would you ask more? Do you think that I shall not know how tofind this driver to-morrow? He was returning with his empty vehicle, hisday's work was ended; hence, his stable is in the neighborhood. Do yousuppose that he will have forgotten that he took up two persons in theRue du Chevaleret? He will tell us where he drove them; but that willnot do us any good, for, of course, they will not have given him theirreal address. But at all events he can probably give us a descriptionof them, tell us how they were dressed, describe their appearance, theirmanner, and their age. And with that, and what we already know--"

An eloquent gesture expressed the remainder of his thought, then headded: "We must now go back to the Poivriere, and go quickly. And you, my friend, may now extinguish your lantern. "

While doing his best to keep pace with his companion, who was in suchhaste to get back to the Poivriere that he almost ran, Father Absinthe'sthoughts were as busy as his legs, and an entirely new train of ideaswas awakened in his mind. 

During the twenty-five years that he had been connected with the policeforce, the good man--to use his own expression--had seen many of hiscolleagues walk over him and win, after only a few months' work, apromotion that his long years of service had not gained for him. Inthese cases he had not failed to accuse his superiors of injustice, andhis fortunate rivals of gross flattery. In his opinion, seniority wasthe only claim to advancement--the only, the best, the most respectableclaim; and he was wont to sum up all his opinions, all his grief andbitterness of mind in one phrase: "It is infamous to pass over an oldmember of the service. "

To-night, however, Father Absinthe discovered that there is somethingelse in the world besides seniority, and sufficient reasons for whathe had formerly regarded as favoritism. He secretly confessed that thisnewcomer whom he had treated so carelessly had just followed up a clueas he, veteran though he was, would never have succeeded in doing. 

But communing with himself was not this good man's forte; he soon grewweary of reflection; and on reaching a place where they were obliged toproceed more slowly on account of the badness of the road, he deemedit a favorable opportunity to resume the conversation. "You are silent, comrade, " he ventured to remark, "and one might swear that you were notexactly pleased. "

This surprising result of the old man's reflections would have amazedLecoq, if his mind had not been a hundred leagues away. "No, I am notpleased, " he responded. 

"And why, pray? Only ten minutes ago you were as gay as a lark. "

"Then I did not see the misfortune that threatens us. "

"A misfortune!"

"A very great misfortune. Do you not perceive that the weather hasundesirably changed. It is evident that the wind is now coming from thesouth. The fog has disappeared, but the sky is cloudy and threatening. It will rain in less than an hour. "

"A few drops are falling now; I just felt one. "

These words produced on Lecoq much the same effect as a whip-up on aspirited horse. He sprang forward, and, adopting a still more hurriedpace, exclaimed: "Let us make haste! let us make haste!"

The old police agent followed him as in duty bound; but his mind was, ifpossible, still more troubled by the replies of his young companion. Agreat misfortune! The wind from the south! Rain! He did not, he couldnot see the connection. 

Greatly puzzled, and not a little anxious, Father Absinthe asked for anexplanation, although he had but little more breath than was absolutelynecessary to enable him to continue the forced march he was making. "Upon my word, " said he, "I have racked my brains--"

His companion took pity on his anxiety. "What!" he exclaimed, as hestill hastened forward, "you do not understand that our investigation, my success, and your reward, are dependent upon those black clouds whichthe wind is driving toward us!"

"Oh!"

"Twenty minutes of merely gentle rain, and our time and labor will belost. If it rains, the snow will melt, and then farewell to our proofs. Let us get on--let us get on more quickly! You know very well that insuch cases words don't suffice. If we declare to the public prosecutorthat we have seen these footprints, he will ask, where? And what can wesay? If we swear by all the gods that we have seen the footprints of aman and of two women, the investigating magistrate will say, 'Let mesee them. ' And who will feel sheepish then? Father Absinthe and Lecoq. Besides, Gevrol would not fail to declare that we were saying what wasnot true, in order to enhance our own value, and humiliate him. "

"What an idea!"

"Faster, papa, faster; you will have all day to-morrow to be indignant. Perhaps it will not rain. In that case, these perfect, clear, andeasily recognizable footprints will prove the culprits' ruin. How canwe preserve them? By what process could we solidify them? I would delugethem with my blood if that could only cause them to congeal. "

Father Absinthe was just then thinking that his share of the labor hadhitherto been the least important; for he had merely held the lantern. But here was a chance for him to acquire a real and substantial right tothe prospective reward. "I know a method, " said he, "by which one couldpreserve these marks in the snow. "

At these words the younger man stopped short. "You know--you?" heinterrupted. 

"Yes, I know, " replied the old detective, with the evident satisfactionof a man who has gained his revenge. "They invented a way at the time ofthat affair at the Maison Blanche, last December. "

"I recollect. "

"Ah! well, on the snow in the courtyard there was a footprint thatattracted a detective's attention. He said that the whole evidencedepended on that mark alone, that it was worth more than ten years' hardwork in following up the case. Naturally, he desired to preserve it. They sent for a great chemist--"

"Go on, go on. "

"I have never seen the method put into practise, but an expert told meall about it, and showed me the mold they obtained. He explained it tome precisely, on account of my profession. "

Lecoq was trembling with impatience. "And how did they obtain the mold?"he asked abruptly. 

"Wait: I was just going to explain. They take some of the best gelatine, and allow it to soak in cold water. When it becomes thoroughly softened, they heat it until it forms a liquid, of moderate consistency. Then whenit is just cool enough, they pour a nice little covering of it upon thefootprint. "

Lecoq felt the irritation that is natural to a person who has just hearda bad joke, or who has lost his time in listening to a fool. 

"Enough!" he interrupted, angrily. "That method can be found in all themanuals. It is excellent, no doubt, but how can it serve us? Have youany gelatine about you?"

"No. "

"Nor have I. You might as well have counseled me to pour melted leadupon the footprints to fix them. "

They continued their way, and five minutes later, without havingexchanged another word, they reentered the Widow Chupin's hovel. Thefirst impulse of the older man would have been to rest to breathe, butLecoq did not give him time to do so. 

"Make haste: get me a dish--a plate--anything!" cried the youngdetective, "and bring me some water; gather together all the boards andold boxes you can find lying about. "

While his companion was obeying him, Lecoq armed himself with a fragmentof one of the broken bottles, and began scraping away furiously at theplastered wall that separated the two rooms. 

His mind, disconcerted at first by the imminence of this unexpectedcatastrophe, a fall of rain, had now regained its equilibrium. He hadreflected, he had thought of a way by which failure might possibly beaverted--and he hoped for ultimate success. When he had accumulated someseven or eight handfuls of fine plaster dust, he mixed one-half with alittle water so as to form a thin paste, leaving the rest untouched onthe side of the plate. 

"Now, papa, " said he, "come and hold the light for me. "

When in the garden, the young man sought for the deepest and mostdistinct of the footprints, knelt beside it, and began his experiment, trembling with anxiety. He first sprinkled upon the impression a finecoating of dry plaster, and then upon this coating, with infinite care, he poured his liquid solution drop by drop. 

What luck! the experiment was successful! The plaster united in ahomogeneous mass, forming a perfect model of the impression. Thus, afteran hour's labor, Lecoq possessed half a dozen of these casts, whichmight, perhaps, be a little wanting in clearness of outline, but whichwere quite perfect enough to be used as evidence. 

The young detective's alarm had been well founded, for it was alreadybeginning to rain. Still, he had plenty of time to cover a number of thefootprints with the boxes and pieces of board which Father Absinthe hadcollected, thus placing them, as it were, beyond the reach of a thaw. Now he could breathe. The authorities might come, for the most importantpart of his task was completed. 

V

It was some distance from the Poivriere to the Rue de Chevaleret, evenby way of the plain, and fully four hours had been occupied by Lecoq andhis colleague in collecting their elements of information. 

All this while, the Widow Chupin's abode had remained open, accessibleto any chance visitor. Still, when, on his return, the young policeagent remembered this neglect of elementary precautions, he did not feelalarmed. Considering all the circumstances, it was very difficultto believe that any serious harm could have resulted from thiscarelessness. 

For who would have been likely to visit this drinking-den aftermidnight? Its bad name served the purpose of a bulwark. The most daringvagrants did not drink there without some disquietude, fearing that ifthe liquor caused them to lose consciousness, they might be robbed orperhaps even murdered. Hence, if any one had been attracted to thisnotoriously dangerous drinking-shop by the light that streamed throughthe open door, it could only have been some very reckless personreturning late at night from the ball at the Rainbow, with a few sousleft in his pocket. But, even then, a single glance inside would havesufficed to put the bravest to flight. 

In less than a second the young police agent had weighed all thesepossibilities, concerning which he did not breathe a word to FatherAbsinthe. When, little by little, the excitement caused by hissuccessive hopes and disappointments, and by the accomplishment of theexperiment with the footprints had died away, and he had regained hisusual calm of mind, he made a careful inspection of the abode, and wasby no means satisfied with himself. He had experimented upon FatherAbsinthe with his new system of investigation, just as an aspiringorator tries his powers before his least gifted friends, not beforethe cleverest. He had certainly overwhelmed the old veteran by hissuperiority; he had literally crushed him. But what great merit, whatwonderful victory was this? Why should he boast of having outwittedFather Absinthe, one of the least sagacious men in the service?

If he could only have given some startling proofs of his energy orof his penetration! But, after all, what had he accomplished? Was themystery solved? Was his success more than problematical? When one threadis drawn out, the skein is not untangled. This night would undoubtedlydecide his future as a detective, so he swore that if he could notconquer his vanity, he would, at least, compel himself to conceal it. Hence, it was in a very modest tone that he said to his companion: "Wehave done all that we can do outside, now, would it not be wise to busyourselves with the inside of the house?"

Everything looked exactly in the same state as when the two men left theroom. A candle, with a charred smoking wick, cast its flickering lightupon the same scene of disorder, revealing to view the rigid features ofthe three victims. Without losing a moment, Lecoq began to pick up andstudy the various objects scattered over the floor. Some of these stillremained intact. The Widow Chupin had recoiled from the expense of atiled floor, judging the bare ground upon which the cabin was builtquite good enough for the feet of her customers. This ground, which mustoriginally have been well beaten down, had, by constant use and damp, become well-nigh as muddy as the soil outside. 

The first fruits of Lecoq's search were a large salad-bowl and a bigiron spoon, the latter so twisted and bent that it had evidently beenused as a weapon during the conflict. On inspecting the bowl, it becameevident that when the quarrel began the victims were regaling themselveswith the familiar mixture of water, wine, and sugar, known round aboutthe barrieres as vin a la Frangaise. After the salad-bowl, the two menpicked up five of the weighty glasses ordinarily used in wine-shops, andwhich, while looking as though they would contain half a bottle, arein point of fact so thick at the bottom that they hold next to nothing. Three of these glasses were broken, two were whole. All of them hadcontained wine--the same vin a la Frangaise. This was plain, but forgreater surety, Lecoq applied his tongue to the bluish mixtureremaining in the bottom of each glass. "The deuce!" he muttered, with anastonished air. 

Then he examined successively the surfaces of the three overturnedtables. Upon one of these, the one nearest the fireplace and the window, the still wet marks of the five glasses, of the salad-bowl, and evenof the spoons could be distinguished. Lecoq very properly regardedthis circumstance as a matter of the greatest importance, for it provedclearly enough that five persons had emptied the salad-bowl in company. Who were these five persons?

"Oh! oh!" suddenly exclaimed Lecoq in two entirely different tones. "Then the two women could not have been with the murderer!"

A very simple mode of discovery had presented itself to his mind. Itwas to ascertain if there were any other glasses, and what they hadcontained. After a fresh search on the floor, a sixth glass was found, similar in form to the others, but much smaller. Its smell showed thatit had contained brandy. Then these two women had not been with themurderer, and therefore he could not have fought because the othermen had insulted them. This discovery proved the inaccuracy of Lecoq'soriginal suppositions. It was an unexpected check, and he was mourningover it in silence, when Father Absinthe, who had not ceased ferretingabout, uttered a cry of surprise. 

The young man turned; he saw that his companion had become very pale. "What is it?" he asked. 

"Some one has been here in our absence. "

"Impossible!"

It was not impossible--it was true. When Gevrol had torn the apronoff Widow Chupin's head he had thrown it upon the steps of the stairs;neither of the police agents had since touched it. And yet the pocketsof this apron were now turned inside out; this was a proof, this wasevidence. At this discovery Lecoq was overcome with consternation, andthe contraction of his features revealed the struggle going on inhis mind. "Who could have been here?" he murmured. "Robbers? That isimprobable. "

Then, after a long silence which his companion took good care not tointerrupt, he added: "The person who came here, who dared to penetrateinto this abode and face the corpses of these murdered men--this personcould have been none other than the accomplice. But it is not enough tosuspect this, it is necessary to know it. I must--I will know it!"

They searched for a long time, and it was not until after an hour ofearnest work that, in front of the door forced open by the police, theydiscovered in the mud, just inside the marks made by Gevrol's tread, afootprint that bore a close resemblance to those left by the man whohad entered the garden. They compared the impressions and recognized thesame designs formed by the nails upon the sole of the boot. 

"It must have been the accomplice!" exclaimed Lecoq. "He watched us, he saw us go away, and then he entered. But why? What pressing, irresistible necessity made him decide to brave such imminent danger?"He seized his companion's hand, nearly crushing it in his excitement:"Ah! I know why!" continued he, violently. "I understand only too well. Some article that would have served to throw light on this horribleaffair had been left or forgotten, or lost here, and to obtain it, tofind it, he decided to run this terrible risk. And to think that it wasmy fault, my fault alone, that this convincing proof escaped us! AndI thought myself so shrewd! What a lesson! The door should have beenlocked; any fool would have thought of it--" Here he checked himself, and remained with open mouth and distended eyes, pointing with hisfinger to one of the corners of the room. 

"What is the matter?" asked his frightened companion. 

Lecoq made no reply, but slowly, and with the stiff movements of asomnambulist, he approached the spot to which he had pointed, stooped, picked up something, and said: "My folly is not deserving of such luck. "

The object he had found was an earring composed of a single largediamond. The setting was of marvelous workmanship. "This diamond, "declared Lecoq, after a moment's examination, "must be worth at leastfive or six thousand francs. "

"Are you in earnest?"

"I think I could swear to it. "

He would not have troubled about such a preamble as "I think" a fewhours before, but the blunder he had made was a lesson that would not beforgotten so long as he lived. 

"Perhaps it was that same diamond earring that the accomplice came toseek, " ventured Father Absinthe. 

"The supposition is scarcely admissible. In that case, he would not havesought for it in Mother Chupin's apron. No, he must have been seekingfor something else--a letter, for example. "

The older man was not listening; he had taken the earring, and wasexamining it in his turn. "And to think, " he murmured, astonished bythe brilliancy of the stone, "to think that a woman who had ten thousandfrancs' worth of jewels in her ears would have come to the Poivriere. Who would have believed it?"

Lecoq shook his head thoughtfully. "Yes, it is very strange, veryimprobable, very absurd. And yet we shall see many things quite asstrange if we ever arrive--which I very much doubt--at a solution ofthis mysterious affair. "

Day was breaking, cold, cheerless, and gloomy, when Lecoq and hiscolleague concluded their investigation. There was not an inch of spacethat had not been explored, carefully examined and studied, one mightalmost say, with a magnifying glass. There now only remained to draw upthe report. 

The younger man seated himself at the table, and, with the view ofmaking his recital as intelligible as possible, he began by sketching aplan of the scene of the murder. 

[[Graphic Omitted]]

It will be seen that in the memoranda appended to this explanatorydiagram, Lecoq had not once written his own name. In noting the thingsthat he had imagined or discovered, he referred to himself simply as oneof the police. This was not so much modesty as calculation. By hidingone's self on well-chosen occasions, one gains greater notoriety whenone emerges from the shade. It was also through cunning that he gaveGevrol such a prominent position. These tactics, rather subtle, perhaps, but after all perfectly fair, could not fail to call attention to theman who had shown himself so efficient when the efforts of his chief hadbeen merely confined to breaking open the door. 

The document Lecoq drew up was not a _proces-verbal_, a formal actreserved for the officers of judiciary police; it was a simple report, that would be admitted under the title of an inquiry, and yet the youngdetective composed it with quite as much care as a general would havedisplayed in drawing up the bulletin of his first victory. 

While Lecoq was drawing and writing, Father Absinthe leaned over hisshoulder to watch him. The plan amazed that worthy man. He had seen agreat deal; but he had always supposed that it was necessary to be anengineer, an architect, or, at least, a carpenter, to execute such work. Not at all. With a tape-line with which to take some measurements, anda bit of board in place of a rule, his inexperienced colleague hadsoon accomplished the miracle. Father Absinthe's respect for Lecoq wasthereby greatly augmented. It is true that the worthy veteran had notnoticed the explosion of the young police agent's vanity, nor his returnto his former modest demeanor. He had not observed his alarm, nor hisperplexity, nor his lack of penetration. 

After a few moments, Father Absinthe ceased watching his companion. Hefelt weary after the labors of the night, his head was burning, andhe shivered and his knees trembled. Perhaps, though he was by no meanssensitive, he felt the influence of the horrors that surrounded him, andwhich seemed more sinister than ever in the bleak light of morning. He began to ferret in the cupboards, and at last succeeded indiscovering--oh, marvelous fortune!--a bottle of brandy, three partsfull. He hesitated for an instant, then he poured out a glass, anddrained it at a single draft. 

"Will you have some?" he inquired of his companion. "It is not a veryfamous brand, to be sure; but it is just as good, it makes one's bloodcirculate and enlivens one. "

Lecoq refused; he did not need to be enlivened. All his faculties werehard at work. He intended that, after a single perusal of his report, the investigating magistrate should say: "Let the officer who drew upthis document be sent for. " It must be remembered that Lecoq's futuredepended upon such an order. Accordingly, he took particular care to bebrief, clear, and concise, to plainly indicate how his suspicions on thesubject of the murder had been aroused, how they had increased, and howthey had been confirmed. He explained by what series of deductions hehad succeeded in establishing a theory which, if it was not thetruth, was at least plausible enough to serve as the basis for furtherinvestigation. 

Then he enumerated the articles of conviction ranged on the table beforehim. There were the flakes of brown wool collected upon the plank, thevaluable earring, the models of the different footprints in the garden, and the Widow Chupin's apron with its pockets turned inside out. Therewas also the murderer's revolver, with two barrels discharged and threestill loaded. This weapon, although not of an ornamental character, wasstill a specimen of highly finished workmanship. It bore the name of oneStephens, 14 Skinner Street, a well-known London gunsmith. 

Lecoq felt convinced that by examining the bodies of the victims hewould obtain other and perhaps very valuable information; but he did notdare venture upon such a course. Besides his own inexperience in such amatter, there was Gevrol to be thought of, and the inspector, furiousat his own mistake, would not fail to declare that, by changing theattitude of the bodies, Lecoq had rendered a satisfactory examination bythe physicians impossible. 

The young detective accordingly tried to console himself for his forcedinaction in this respect, and he was rereading his report, modifyinga few expressions, when Father Absinthe, who was standing upon thethreshold of the outer door, called to him. 

"Is there anything new?" asked Lecoq. 

"Yes, " was the reply. "Here come Gevrol and two of our comrades with thecommissary of police and two other gentlemen. "

It was, indeed, the commissary who was approaching, interested butnot disturbed by this triple murder which was sure to make hisarrondissement the subject of Parisian conversation during the next fewdays. Why, indeed, should he be troubled about it? For Gevrol, whoseopinion in such matters might be regarded as an authority, had takencare to reassure him when he went to arouse him from his slumbers. 

"It was only a fight between some old offenders; former jail birds, habitues of the Poivriere, " he had said, adding sententiously: "If allthese ruffians would kill one another, we might have some little peace. "

He added that as the murderer had been arrested and placed inconfinement, there was nothing urgent about the case. Accordingly, thecommissary thought there was no harm in taking another nap and waitinguntil morning before beginning the inquiry. He had seen the murderer, reported the case to the prefecture, and now he was coming--leisurelyenough--accompanied by two physicians, appointed by the authoritiesto draw up a _medico-legal_ report in all such cases. The party alsocomprised a sergeant-major of the 53d regiment of infantry of the line, who had been summoned by the commissary to identify, if possible, themurdered man who wore a uniform, for if one might believe the numberengraved upon the buttons of his overcoat, he belonged to the 53dregiment, now stationed at the neighboring fort. 

As the party approached it was evident that Inspector Gevrol was evenless disturbed than the commissary. He whistled as he walked along, flourishing his cane, which never left his hand, and already laughingin his sleeve over the discomfiture of the presumptuous fool who haddesired to remain to glean, where he, the experienced and skilfulofficer, had perceived nothing. As soon as he was within speakingdistance, the inspector called to Father Absinthe, who, after warningLecoq, remained on the threshold, leaning against the door-post, puffinghis pipe, as immovable as a sphinx. 

"Ah, well, old man!" cried Gevrol, "have you any great melodrama, verydark and very mysterious, to relate to us?"

"I have nothing to relate myself, " replied the old detective, withouteven drawing his pipe from his lips, "I am too stupid, that is perfectlyunderstood. But Monsieur Lecoq will tell you something that willastonish you. "

The prefix, "monsieur, " which the old police agent used in speakingof his colleague, displeased Gevrol so much that he pretended not tounderstand. "Who are you speaking of?" he asked abruptly. 

"Of my colleague, of course, who is now busy finishing his report--ofMonsieur Lecoq. " Quite unintentionally, the worthy fellow had certainlybecome the young police agent's godfather. From that day forward, for his enemies as well as for his friends, he was and he remained"Monsieur" Lecoq. 

"Ah! ah!" said the inspector, whose hearing was evidently impaired. "Ah, he has discovered--"

"The pot of roses which others did not scent, General. " By this remark, Father Absinthe made an enemy of his superior officer. But he caredlittle for that: Lecoq had become his deity, and no matter what thefuture might reserve, the old veteran had resolved to follow his youngcolleague's fortunes. 

"We'll see about that, " murmured the inspector, mentally resolving tohave an eye on this youth whom success might transform into a rival. Hesaid no more, for the little party which he preceded had now overtakenhim, and he stood aside to make way for the commissary of police. 

This commissary was far from being a novice. He had served for manyyears, and yet he could not repress a gesture of horror as he enteredthe Poivriere. The sergeant-major of the 53d, who followed him, an oldsoldier, decorated and medaled--who had smelt powder many scores oftimes--was still more overcome. He grew as pale as the corpses lying onthe ground, and was obliged to lean against the wall for support. Thetwo physicians alone retained their stoical indifference. 

Lecoq had risen, his report in his hand; he bowed, and assuming arespectful attitude, was waiting to be questioned. 

"You must have passed a frightful night, " said the commissary, kindly;"and quite unnecessarily, since any investigation was superfluous. "

"I think, however, " replied the young police agent, having recourseto all his diplomacy, "that my time has not been entirely lost. I haveacted according to the instructions of my superior officer; I havesearched the premises thoroughly, and I have ascertained many things. I have, for example, acquired the certainty that the murderer hada friend, possibly an accomplice, of whom I can give quite a closedescription. He must have been of middle age, and wore, if I am notmistaken, a soft cap and a brown woolen overcoat: as for his boots--"

"Zounds!" exclaimed Gevrol, "and I--" He stopped short, like a man whoseimpulse had exceeded his discretion, and who would have gladly recalledhis words. 

"And you?" inquired the commissary, "pray, what do you mean?"

The inspector had gone too far to draw back, and, unwittingly, was nowobliged to act as his own executioner. "I was about to mention, " hesaid, "that this morning, an hour or so ago, while I was waiting foryou, sir, before the station-house, at the Barriere d'Italie, where themurderer is confined, I noticed close by an individual whose appearancewas not unlike that of the man described by Lecoq. This man seemed tobe very intoxicated, for he reeled and staggered against the walls. Hetried to cross the street, but fell down in the middle of it, in such aposition that he would inevitably have been crushed by the first passingvehicle. "

Lecoq turned away his head; he did not wish them to read in his eyes howperfectly he understood the whole game. 

"Seeing this, " pursued Gevrol, "I called two men and asked them toaid me in raising the poor devil. We went up to him; he had apparentlyfallen asleep: we shook him--we made him sit up; we told him that hecould not remain there, but he immediately flew into a furious rage. Heswore at us, threatened us, and began fighting us. And, on my word, wehad to take him to the station-house, and leave him there to recoverfrom the effects of his drunken debauch. "

"Did you shut him up in the same cell with the murderer?" inquiredLecoq. 

"Naturally. You know very well that there are only two cages in thestation-house at the barriere--one for men and the other for women;consequently--"

The commissary seemed thoughtful. "Ah! that's very unfortunate, " hestammered; "and there is no remedy. "

"Excuse me, there is one, " observed Gevrol, "I can send one of my men tothe station-house with an order to detain the drunken man--"

Lecoq interposed with a gesture: "Trouble lost, " he said coldly. "Ifthis individual is an accomplice, he has got sober by now--rest assuredof that, and is already far away. "

"Then what is to be done?" asked the inspector, with an ironical air. "May one be permitted to ask the advice of Monsieur Lecoq. "

"I think chance offered us a splendid opportunity, and we did not knowhow to seize it; and that the best thing we can do now is to give overmourning, and prepare to profit by the next opportunity that presentsitself. "

Gevrol was, however, determined to send one of his men to thestation-house; and it was not until the messenger had started that Lecoqcommenced the reading of his report. He read it rapidly, refrainingas much as possible from placing the decisive proofs in strong relief, reserving these for his own benefit; but so strong was the logic of hisdeductions that he was frequently interrupted by approving remarks fromthe commissary and the two physicians. 

Gevrol, who alone represented the opposition, shrugged his shoulderstill they were well-nigh dislocated, and grew literally green withjealousy. 

"I think that you alone, young man, have judged correctly in thisaffair, " said the commissary when Lecoq had finished reading. "I may bemistaken; but your explanations have made me alter my opinion concerningthe murderer's attitude while I was questioning him (which was only fora moment). He refused, obstinately refused, to answer my questions, andwouldn't even give me his name. "

The commissary was silent for a moment, reviewing the past circumstancesin his mind, and it was in a serious tone that he eventually added: "Weare, I feel convinced, in presence of one of those mysterious crimes thecauses of which are beyond the reach of human sagacity--this strikes meas being one of those enigmatical cases which human justice never canreach. " Lecoq made no audible rejoinder; but he smiled to himself andthought: "We will see about that. "

VI

No consultation held at the bedside of a dying man ever took place inthe presence of two physicians so utterly unlike each other as those whoaccompanied the commissary of police to the Poivriere. 

One of them, a tall old man with a bald head, wearing a broad-brimmedhat, and an overcoat of antique cut, was evidently one of those modestsavants encountered occasionally in the byways of Paris--one of thosehealers devoted to their art, who too often die in obscurity, afterrendering immense services to mankind. He had the gracious calmness of aman who, having seen so much of human misery, has nothing left to learn, and no troubled conscience could have possibly sustained his searchingglance, which was as keen as his lancet. 

His colleague--young, fresh-looking, light-haired, and jovial--wassomewhat foppishly attired; and his white hands were encased in handsomefur gloves. There was a soft self-satisfied smile on his face, andhe had the manners of those practitioners who, for profit's sake, invariably recommend the infallible panaceas invented each month inchemical laboratories and advertised ad nauseam in the back pages ofnewspapers. He had probably written more than one article upon "Medicinefor the use of the people"; puffing various mixtures, pills, ointments, and plasters for the benefit of their respective inventors. 

"I will request you, gentlemen, " said the commissary of police, "tobegin your duties by examining the victim who wears a military costume. Here is a sergeant-major summoned to answer a question of identity, whomI must send back to his quarters as soon as possible. "

The two physicians responded with a gesture of assent, and aided byFather Absinthe and another agent of police, they lifted the body andlaid it upon two tables, which had previously been placed end to end. They were not obliged to make any note of the attitude in which theyfound the body, since the unfortunate man, who was still alive when thepolice entered the cabin, had been moved before he expired. 

"Approach, sergeant, " ordered the commissary, "and look carefully atthis man. "

It was with very evident repugnance that the old soldier obeyed. 

"What is the uniform that he wears?"

"It is the uniform of the 2d battalion of the 53d regiment of the line. "

"Do you recognize him?"

"Not at all. "

"Are you sure that he does not belong to your regiment?"

"I can not say for certain: there are some conscripts at the Depot whomI have never seen. But I am ready to swear that he had never formedpart of the 2d battalion--which, by the way, is mine, and in which I amsergeant-major. "

Lecoq, who had hitherto remained in the background, now stepped forward. "It might be as well, " he suggested, "to note the numbers marked on theother articles of clothing. "

"That is a very good idea, " said the commissary, approvingly. 

"Here is his shako, " added the young police agent. "It bears the number3, 129. "

The officials followed Lecoq's advice, and soon discovered that eacharticle of clothing worn by the unfortunate man bore a different number. 

"The deuce!" murmured the sergeant; "there is every indication--But itis very singular. "

Invited to consider what he was going to say, the brave trooperevidently made an effort to collect his intellectual faculties. "I wouldstake my epaulets that this fellow never was a soldier, " he said atlast. "He must have disguised himself to take part in the Shrove Sundaycarnival. "

"Why do you think that?"

"Oh, I know it better than I can explain it. I know it by his hair, byhis nails, by his whole appearance, by a certain _je ne sais quoi_; inshort, I know it by everything and by nothing. Why look, the poor devildid not even know how to put on his shoes; he has laced his gaiterswrong side outwards. " Evidently further doubt was impossible after thisevidence, which confirmed the truth of Lecoq's first remark to InspectorGevrol. 

"Still, if this person was a civilian, how could he have procured thisclothing?" insisted the commissary. "Could he have borrowed it from themen in your company?"

"Yes, that is possible; but it is difficult to believe. "

"Is there no way by which you could ascertain?"

"Oh! very easily. I have only to run over to the fort and order aninspection of clothing. "

"Do so, " approved the commissary; "it would be an excellent way ofgetting at the truth. "

But Lecoq had just thought of a method quite as convincing, and muchmore prompt. "One word, sergeant, " said he, "isn't cast off militaryclothing sold by public auction?"

"Yes; at least once a year, after the inspection. "

"And are not the articles thus sold marked in some way?"

"Assuredly. "

"Then see if there isn't some mark of the kind on this poor wretch'suniform. "

The sergeant turned up the collar of the coat and examined thewaist-band of the pantaloons. "You are right, " he said, "these arecondemned garments. "

The eyes of the young police agent sparkled. "We must then believe thatthe poor devil purchased this costume, " he observed. "Where? Necessarilyat the Temple, from one of the dealers in military clothing. There areonly five or six of these establishments. I will go from one to anotherof them, and the person who sold these clothes will certainly recognizethem by some trade mark. "

"And that will assist us very much, " growled Gevrol. The sergeant-major, to his great relief, now received permission to retire, but not withouthaving been warned that very probably the commissary would require hisdeposition. The moment had come to search the garments of the pretendedsoldier, and the commissary, who performed this duty himself, hoped thatsome clue as to the man's identity would be forthcoming. He proceededwith his task, at the same time dictating to one of the men a_proces-verbal_ of the search; that is to say, a minute description ofall the articles he found upon the dead man's person. In the right handtrousers pocket some tobacco, a pipe, and a few matches were found; inthe left hand one, a linen handkerchief of good quality, but unmarked, and a soiled leather pocket-book, containing seven francs and sixtycentimes. 

There appeared to be nothing more, and the commissary was expressinghis regret, when, on carefully examining the pocket-book he found acompartment which had at first escaped his notice, being hidden by aleather flap. This compartment contained a carefully folded paper. Thecommissary unfolded it and read the contents aloud:

"My dear Gustave, --To-morrow, Sunday evening, do not fail to come to theball at the Rainbow, according to our agreement. If you have no moneypass by my house, and I will leave some with the concierge, who willgive it to you. 

"Be at the ball by eight o'clock. If I am not already there, it willnot be long before I make my appearance. Everything is going onsatisfactorily. 

"Lacheneur. "

Alas! what did this letter reveal? Only that the dead man's name wasGustave; that he had some connection with a man named Lacheneur, who hadadvanced him money for a certain object; and that they had met at theRainbow some hours before the murder. 

It was little--very little--but still it was something. It was a clue;and in this absolute darkness even the faintest gleam of light waseagerly welcomed. 

"Lacheneur!" growled Gevrol; "the poor devil uttered that name in hislast agony. "

"Precisely, " insisted Father Absinthe, "and he declared that he wishedto revenge himself upon him. He accused him of having drawn him into atrap. Unfortunately, death cut his story short. "

Lecoq was silent. The commissary of police had handed him the letter, and he was studying it with the closest attention. The paper on whichit was written was of the ordinary kind; the ink was blue. In one of thecorners was a half-effaced stamp, of which one could just distinguishthe word--Beaumarchais. 

This was enough for Lecoq. "This letter, " he thought, "was certainlywritten in a cafe on the Boulevard Beaumarchais. In which one? I mustascertain that point, for this Lacheneur must be found. "

While the agents of the prefecture were gathered around the commissary, holding council and deliberating, the physicians began their delicateand disagreeable task. With the assistance of Father Absinthe, theyremoved the clothing of the pretended soldier, and then, with sleevesrolled up, they bent over their "subject" like surgeons in the schoolsof anatomy, and examined, inspected, and appraised him physically. Very willingly would the younger doctor have dispensed with theseformalities, which he considered very ridiculous, and entirelyunnecessary; but the old physician had too high a regard for hisprofession, and for the duty he had been called upon to fulfil, toneglect the slightest detail. Minutely, and with the most scrupulousexactitude, he noted the height of the dead man, his supposed age, thenature of his temperament, the color and length of his hair, and thedegree of development of his muscular system. 

Then the doctors passed to an examination of the wound. Lecoq had judgedcorrectly. The medical men declared it to be a fracture of the baseof the skull. It could, they stated, only have been caused by someinstrument with a very broad surface, or by a violent knock of the headagainst some hard substance of considerable magnitude. 

But no weapon, other than the revolver, had been found; and it wasevidently not heavy enough to produce such a wound. There must, then, necessarily, have been a hand-to-hand struggle between the pretendedsoldier and the murderer; and the latter, seizing his adversary by thethroat, had dashed him violently against the wall. The presence of somevery tiny but very numerous spots of extravasated blood about the neckmade this theory extremely plausible. 

No other wound, not even a bruise or a scratch, was to be found. Hence, it became evident that this terrible struggle must have been exceedinglyshort. The murder of the pretended soldier must have been consummatedbetween the moment when the squad of police heard the shrieks of despairand the moment when Lecoq peered through the shutter and saw the victimfall. 

The examination of the other murdered man required different buteven greater precautions than those adopted by the doctors in theirinspection of the pseudo soldier. The position of these two victimshad been respected; they were still lying across the hearth as they hadfallen, and their attitude was a matter of great importance, since itmight have decisive bearing on the case. Now, this attitude was suchthat one could not fail to be impressed with the idea that with boththese men death had been instantaneous. They were both stretched outupon their backs, their limbs extended, and their hands wide open. 

No contraction or extension of the muscles, no trace of conflict couldbe perceived; it seemed evident that they had been taken unawares, themore so as their faces expressed the most intense terror. 

"Thus, " said the old doctor, "we may reasonably suppose that they werestupefied by some entirely unexpected, strange, and frightful spectacle. I have come across this terrified expression depicted upon the faces ofdead people more than once. I recollect noticing it upon the features ofa woman who died suddenly from the shock she experienced when one ofher neighbors, with the view of playing her a trick, entered her housedisguised as a ghost. "

Lecoq followed the physician's explanations, and tried to make themagree with the vague hypotheses that were revolving in his own brain. But who could these individuals be? Would they, in death, guard thesecret of their identity, as the other victim had done?

The first subject examined by the physicians was over fifty years ofage. His hair was very thin and quite gray and his face was closelyshaven, excepting a thick tuft of hair on his rather prominent chin. He was very poorly clad, wearing a soiled woolen blouse and a pair ofdilapidated trousers hanging in rags over his boots, which were verymuch trodden down at the heels. The old doctor declared that this manmust have been instantly killed by a bullet. The size of the circularwound, the absence of blood around its edge, and the blackened andburnt state of the flesh demonstrated this fact with almost mathematicalprecision. 

The great difference that exists in wounds made by firearms, accordingto the distance from which the death-dealing missile comes, was seenwhen the physicians began to examine the last of the murdered men. Theball that had caused the latter's death had scarcely crossed a yard ofspace before reaching him, and his wound was not nearly so hideous inaspect as the other's. This individual, who was at least fifteen yearsyounger than his companion, was short and remarkably ugly; his face, which was quite beardless, being pitted all over by the smallpox. Hisgarb was such as is worn by the worst frequenters of the barriere. Histrousers were of a gray checked material, and his blouse, turned back atthe throat, was blue. It was noticed that his boots had been blackenedquite recently. The smart glazed cap that lay on the floor beside himwas in harmony with his carefully curled hair and gaudy necktie. 

These were the only facts that the physicians' report set forth intechnical terms, this was the only information obtained by the mostcareful investigation. The two men's pockets were explored and turnedinside out; but they contained nothing that gave the slightest clue totheir identity, either as regards name, social position, or profession. There was not even the slightest indication on any of these points, nota letter, nor an address, not a fragment of paper, nothing--not evensuch common articles of personal use, as a tobacco pouch, a knife, or apipe which might be recognized, and thus establish the owner's identity. A little tobacco in a paper bag, a couple of pocket handkerchiefs thatwere unmarked, a packet of cigarettes--these were the only articlesdiscovered beyond the money which the victims carried loose in theirpockets. On this point, it should be mentioned that the elder man hadsixty-seven francs about him, and the younger one, two louis. 

Rarely had the police found themselves in the presence of so strange anaffair, without the slightest clue to guide them. Of course, there wasthe fact itself, as evidenced by the bodies of the three victims;but the authorities were quite ignorant of the circumstances that hadattended and of the motive that had inspired the crime. Certainly, theymight hope with the powerful means of investigation at their disposalto finally arrive at the truth in the course of time, and after repeatedefforts. But, in the mean while, all was mystery, and so strangely didthe case present itself that it could not safely be said who was reallyresponsible for the horrible tragedy at the Poivriere. 

The murderer had certainly been arrested; but if he persisted in hisobstinacy, how were they to ascertain his name? He protested that he hadmerely killed in self-defense. How could it be shown that such was notthe case? Nothing was known concerning the victims; one of whom had withhis dying breath accused himself. Then again, an inexplicable influencetied the Widow Chupin's tongue. Two women, one of whom had lost anearring valued at 5, 000 francs, had witnessed the struggle--thendisappeared. An accomplice, after two acts of unheard-of audacity, hadalso made his escape. And all these people--the women, the murderer, the keeper of the saloon, the accomplice, and the victims--were equallystrange and mysterious, equally liable not to be what they seemed. 

Perhaps the commissary of police thought he would spend a veryunpleasant quarter of an hour at the prefecture when he reported thecase. Certainly, he spoke of the crime in a very despondent tone. 

"It will now be best, " he said at last, "to transport these three bodiesto the Morgue. There they will doubtless be identified. " He reflectedfor a moment, and then added: "And to think that one of these dead menis perhaps Lacheneur himself!"

"That is scarcely possible, " said Lecoq. "The spurious soldier, beingthe last to die, had seen his companions fall. If he had supposedLacheneur to be dead, he would not have spoken of vengeance. "

Gevrol, who for the past two hours had pretended to pay no attention tothe proceedings, now approached. He was not the man to yield even to thestrongest evidence. "If Monsieur, the Commissary, will listen to me, heshall hear my opinion, which is a trifle more definite than M. Lecoq'sfancies. "

Before he could say any more, the sound of a vehicle stopping beforethe door of the cabin interrupted him, and an instant afterward theinvestigating magistrate entered the room. 

All the officials assembled at the Poivriere knew at least by sight themagistrate who now made his appearance, and Gevrol, an old habitueof the Palais de Justice, mechanically murmured his name: "M. Mauriced'Escorval. "

He was the son of that famous Baron d'Escorval, who, in 1815, sealed hisdevotion to the empire with his blood, and upon whom Napoleon, in theMemorial of St. Helena, pronounced this magnificent eulogium: "Menas honest as he may, I believe, exist; but more honest, no, it is notpossible. "

Having entered upon his duties as magistrate early in life, and beingendowed with remarkable talents, it was at first supposed thatthe younger D'Escorval would rise to the most exalted rank in hisprofession. But he had disappointed all such prognostications byresolutely refusing the more elevated positions that were offered tohim, in order to retain his modest but useful functions in the publicprosecutor's offices at Paris. To explain his repeated refusals, he saidthat life in the capital had more charms for him than the most enviableadvancement in provincial centres. But it was hard to understandthis declaration, for in spite of his brilliant connections and largefortune, he had, ever since the death of his eldest brother, led a mostretired life, his existence merely being revealed by his untiring laborsand the good he did to those around him. 

He was now about forty-two years of age, but appeared much younger, although a few furrows already crossed his brow. One would have admiredhis face, had it not been for the puzzling immobility that marred itsbeauty, the sarcastic curl of his thin lips, and the gloomy expressionof his pale-blue eyes. To say that he was cold and grave, did notexpress the truth, it was saying too little. He was gravity and coldnesspersonified, with a shade of hauteur added. 

Impressed by the horror of the scene the instant he placed his foot uponthe threshold, M. D'Escorval acknowledged the presence of the physiciansand the commissary by a slight nod of the head. The others in the roomhad no existence so far as he was concerned. At once his faculties wentto work. He studied the ground, and carefully noted all the surroundingswith the attentive sagacity of a magistrate who realizes the immenseweight of even the slightest detail, and who fully appreciates theeloquence of circumstantial evidence. 

"This is a serious affair, " he said gravely; "very serious. "

The commissary's only response was to lift his eyes to heaven. A gesturethat plainly implied, "I quite agree with you!" The fact is, that forthe past two hours the worthy commissary's responsibility had weighedheavily upon him, and he secretly blessed the investigating magistratefor relieving him of it. 

"The public prosecutor was unable to accompany me, " resumed M. D'Escorval, "he has not the gift of omnipresence, and I doubt if it willbe possible for him to join me here. Let us, therefore, begin operationsat once. "

The curiosity of those present had become intense; and the commissaryonly expressed the general feeling when he said: "You have undoubtedlyquestioned the murderer, sir, and have learnt--"

"I have learnt nothing, " interrupted M. D'Escorval, apparently muchastonished at the interruption. 

He took a chair and sat himself down, and while his clerk was busy inauthenticating the commissary's _proces-verbal_, he began to read thereport prepared by Lecoq. 

Pale, agitated, and nervous, the young police agent tried to read uponthe magistrate's impassive face the impression produced by the document. His future depended upon the magistrate's approval or disapproval; andit was not with a fuddled mind like that of Father Absinthe that he hadnow to deal, but with a superior intelligence. 

"If I could only plead my own cause, " he thought. "What are cold writtenphrases in comparison with spoken, living words, palpitating withemotion and imbued with the convictions of the speaker. "

However, he was soon reassured. The magistrate's face retained itsimmobility, but again and again did M. D'Escorval nod his head in tokenof approval, and occasionally some point more ingenious than the othersextorted from his lips the exclamations: "Not bad--very good!"

When he had finished the perusal he turned to the commissary andremarked: "All this is very unlike your report of this morning, whichrepresented the affair as a low broil between a party of miserablevagabonds. "

The observation was only too just and fair; and the commissary deeplyregretted that he had trusted to Gevrol's representations, and remainedin bed. "This morning, " he responded evasively, "I only gave you myfirst impressions. These have been modified by subsequent researches, sothat--"

"Oh!" interrupted the magistrate, "I did not intend to reproach you; onthe contrary, I must congratulate you. One could not have done betternor acted more promptly. The investigation that has been carried outshows great penetration and research, and the results are given withunusual clearness, and wonderful precision. "

Lecoq's head whirled. 

The commissary hesitated for an instant. At first he was sorely temptedto confiscate this praise to his own profit. If he drove away theunworthy thought, it was because he was an honest man, and more thanthat, because he was not displeased to have the opportunity to do Gevrola bad turn and punish him for his presumptuous folly. 

"I must confess, " he said with some embarrassment, "that the merit ofthis investigation does not belong to me. "

"To whom, then, shall I attribute it--to the inspector?" thought M. D'Escorval, not without surprise, for having occasionally employedGevrol, he did not expect from him such ingenuity and sagacity as wasdisplayed in this report. "Is it you, then, who have conducted thisinvestigation so ably?" he asked. 

"Upon my word, no!" responded Inspector Gevrol. "I, myself, am notso clever as all that. I content myself with telling what I actuallydiscover; and I only give proofs when I have them in hand. May I be hungif the grounds of this report have any existence save in the brains ofthe man who imagined them. " Perhaps the inspector really believed whathe said, being one of those persons who are blinded by vanity to such adegree that, with the most convincing evidence before their eyes, theyobstinately deny it. 

"And yet, " insisted the magistrate, "these women whose footprints havebeen detected must have existed. The accomplice who left the flakes ofwool adhering to the plank is a real being. This earring is a positive, palpable proof. "

Gevrol had hard work to refrain from shrugging his shoulders. "All thiscan be satisfactorily explained, " he said, "without a search of twelveor fourteen hours. That the murderer had an accomplice is possible. Thepresence of the women is very natural. Wherever there are male thieves, you will find female thieves as well. As for the diamond--what does thatprove? That the scoundrels had just met with a stroke of good luck, thatthey had come here to divide their booty, and that the quarrel arosefrom the division. "

This was an explanation, and such a plausable one, that M. D'Escorvalwas silent, reflecting before he announced his decision. "Decidedly, "he declared at last, "decidedly, I adopt the hypothesis set forth in thereport. Who prepared it?"

Gevrol's face turned red with anger. "One of my men, " he replied, "aclever, adroit fellow, Monsieur Lecoq. Come forward, Lecoq, that themagistrate may see you. "

The young man advanced, his lips tightly compressed so as to conceal asmile of satisfaction which almost betrayed itself. 

"My report, sir, is only a summary, " he began, "but I have certainideas--"

"Which you will acquaint me with, when I ask for them, " interrupted themagistrate. And oblivious of Lecoq's chagrin, he drew from his clerk'sportfolio two forms, which he filled up and handed to Gevrol, saying:"Here are two orders; take them to the station, where the murderer andthe landlady of this cabin are confined, and have them conducted to theprefecture, where they will be privately examined. "

Having given these directions, M. D'Escorval was turning toward thephysicians, when Lecoq, at the risk of a second rebuff, interposed. "MayI venture, sir, to beg of you to confide this message to me?" he askedof the investigating magistrate. 

"Impossible, I may have need of you here. "

"I desired, sir, to collect certain evidence and an opportunity to do somay not present itself again. "

The magistrate perhaps fathomed the young man's motive. "Then, let it beso, " he replied, "but after your task is completed you must wait forme at the prefecture, where I shall proceed as soon as I have finishedhere. You may go. "

Lecoq did not wait for the order to be repeated. He snatched up thepapers, and hastened away. 

He literally flew over the ground, and strange to say he no longerexperienced any fatigue from the labors of the preceding night. Neverhad he felt so strong and alert, either in body or mind. He wasvery hopeful of success. He had every confidence in himself, and hishappiness would indeed have been complete if he had had another judgeto deal with. But M. D'Escorval overawed him to such a degree that hebecame almost paralyzed in his presence. With what a disdainful glancethe magistrate had surveyed him! With what an imperious tone he hadimposed silence upon him--and that, too, when he had found his workdeserving of commendation. 

"Still, never mind, " the young detective mentally exclaimed, "no oneever tastes perfect happiness here below. "

And concentrating all his thoughts on the task before him, he hurried onhis way. 

VII

When, after a rapid walk of twenty minutes, Lecoq reached the policestation near the Barriere d'Italie, the doorkeeper, with his pipe inhis mouth, was pacing slowly to and fro before the guard-house. Histhoughtful air, and the anxious glances he cast every now and thentoward one of the little grated windows of the building sufficed toindicate that some very rare bird indeed had been entrusted to hiskeeping. As soon as he recognized Lecoq, his brow cleared, and he pausedin his promenade. 

"Ah, well!" he inquired, "what news do you bring?"

"I have an order to conduct the prisoners to the prefecture. "

The keeper rubbed his hands, and his smile of satisfaction plainlyimplied that he felt a load the less on his shoulders. 

"Capital! capital!" he exclaimed. "The Black Maria, the prison van, willpass here in less than an hour; we will throw them in, and hurry thedriver off--"

Lecoq was obliged to interrupt the keeper's transports of satisfaction. "Are the prisoners alone?" he inquired. 

"Quite alone: the woman in one cell, and the man in the other. Thishas been a remarkably quiet night, for Shrove Sunday! Quite surprisingindeed! It is true your hunt was interrupted. "

"You had a drunken man here, however. "

"No--yes--that's true--this morning just at daybreak. A poor devil, whois under a great obligation to Gevrol. "

The involuntary irony of this remark did not escape Lecoq. "Yes, under agreat obligation, indeed!" he said with a derisive laugh. 

"You may laugh as much as you like, " retorted the keeper, "but such isreally the case; if it hadn't been for Gevrol the man would certainlyhave been run over. "

"And what has become of him?"

The keeper shrugged his shoulders. "You ask me too much, " he responded. He was a worthy fellow who had been spending the night at a friend'shouse, and on coming out into the open air, the wine flew into his head. He told us all about it when he got sober, half an hour afterward. Inever saw a man so vexed as he was. He wept, and stammered: "The fatherof a family, and at my age too! Oh! it is shameful! What shall I say tomy wife? What will the children think?"

"Did he talk much about his wife?"

"He talked about nothing else. He mentioned her name--Eudosia Leocadie, or some name of that sort. He declared that he should be ruined if wekept him here. He begged us to send for the commissary, to go to hishouse, and when we set him free, I thought he would go mad with joy; hekissed our hands, and thanked us again and again!"

"And did you place him in the same cage as the murderer?" inquiredLecoq. 

"Of course. "

"Then they talked with each other. "

"Talked? Why, the drunkard was so 'gone' I tell you, that he couldn'thave said 'bread' distinctly. When he was placed in a cell, bang! Hefell down like a log of wood. As soon as he recovered, we let him out. I'm sure, they didn't talk to each other. "

The young police agent had grown very thoughtful. "I was evidentlyright, " he murmured. 

"What did you say?" inquired the keeper. 

"Nothing, " replied Lecoq, who was not inclined to communicate hisreflections to the custodian of the guard-house. These reflections ofhis were by no means pleasant ones. "I was right, " he thought; "thispretended drunkard was none other than the accomplice. He is evidentlyan adroit, audacious, cool-headed fellow. While we were tracking hisfootprints he was watching us. When we had got to some distance, he wasbold enough to enter the hovel. Then he came here and compelled themto arrest him; and thanks to an assumption of childish simplicity, he succeeded in finding an opportunity to speak with the murderer. Heplayed his part perfectly. Still, I know that he did play a part, andthat is something. I know that one must believe exactly the opposite ofwhat he said. He talked of his family, his wife and children--hence, hehas neither children, wife, nor family. "

Lecoq suddenly checked himself, remembering that he had no time to wastein conjectures. "What kind of fellow was this drunkard?" he inquired. 

"He was tall and stout, with full ruddy cheeks, a pair of whitewhiskers, small eyes, a broad flat nose, and a good-natured, jovialmanner. "

"How old would you suppose him to be?"

"Between forty and fifty. "

"Did you form any idea of his profession?"

"It's my opinion, that what with his soft cap and his heavy brownovercoat, he must be either a clerk or the keeper of some little shop. "

Having obtained this description, which agreed with the result of hisinvestigations, Lecoq was about to enter the station house when asudden thought brought him to a standstill. "I hope this man has had nocommunication with this Widow Chupin!" he exclaimed. 

The keeper laughed heartily. "How could he have had any?" he responded. "Isn't the old woman alone in her cell? Ah, the old wretch! She has beencursing and threatening ever since she arrived. Never in my whole lifehave I heard such language as she has used. It has been enough to makethe very stones blush; even the drunken man was so shocked that he wentto the grating in the door, and told her to be quiet. "

Lecoq's glance and gesture were so expressive of impatience and wraththat the keeper paused in his recital much perturbed. "What is thematter?" he stammered. "Why are you angry?"

"Because, " replied Lecoq, furiously, "because--" Not wishing to disclosethe real cause of his anger, he entered the station house, saying thathe wanted to see the prisoner. 

Left alone, the keeper began to swear in his turn. "These police agentsare all alike, " he grumbled. "They question you, you tell them all theydesire to know; and afterward, if you venture to ask them anything, theyreply: 'nothing, ' or 'because. ' They have too much authority; it makesthem proud. "

Looking through the little latticed window in the door, by which the menon guard watch the prisoners, Lecoq eagerly examined the appearance ofthe assumed murderer. He was obliged to ask himself if this was reallythe same man he had seen some hours previously at the Poivriere, standing on the threshold of the inner door, and holding the whole squadof police agents in check by the intense fury of his attitude. Now, onthe contrary, he seemed, as it were, the personification of weakness anddespondency. He was seated on a bench opposite the grating in the door, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin upon his hand, his under liphanging low and his eyes fixed upon vacancy. 

"No, " murmured Lecoq, "no, this man is not what he seems to be. "

So saying he entered the cell, the culprit raised his head, gave thedetective an indifferent glance, but did not utter a word. 

"Well, how goes it?" asked Lecoq. 

"I am innocent!" responded the prisoner, in a hoarse, discordant voice. 

"I hope so, I am sure--but that is for the magistrate to decide. I cameto see if you wanted anything. "

"No, " replied the murderer, but a second later he changed his mind. "Allthe same, " he said, "I shouldn't mind a crust and a drink of wine. "

"You shall have them, " replied Lecoq, who at once went out to foragein the neighborhood for eatables of some sort. In his opinion, if themurderer had asked for a drink after at first refusing to partake ofanything, it was solely with the view of conveying the idea that he wasreally the kind of man he pretended to be. 

At all events, whoever he might be, the prisoner ate with an excellentappetite. He then took up the large glass of wine that had been broughthim, drained it slowly, and remarked: "That's capital! There can benothing to beat that!"

This seeming satisfaction greatly disappointed Lecoq, who had selected, as a test, one of those horribly thick, bluish, nauseous mixtures invogue around the barrieres--hoping, nay, almost expecting, that themurderer would not drink it without some sign of repugnance. And yet thecontrary proved the case. However, the young detective had no time toponder over the circumstance, for a rumble of wheels now announced theapproach of that lugubrious vehicle, the Black Maria. 

When the Widow Chupin was removed from her cell she fought and scratchedand cried "Murder!" at the top of her voice; and it was only by sheerforce that she was at length got into the van. Then it was that theofficials turned to the assassin. Lecoq certainly expected some sign ofrepugnance now, and he watched the prisoner closely. But he was againdoomed to disappointment. The culprit entered the vehicle in the mostunconcerned manner, and took possession of his compartment like oneaccustomed to it, knowing the most comfortable position to assume insuch close quarters. 

"Ah! what an unfortunate morning, " murmured Lecoq, disconsolately. "Still I will lie in wait for him at the prefecture. "

When the door of the prison-van had been securely closed, the drivercracked his whip, and the sturdy horses started off at a brisk trot. Lecoq had taken his seat in front, between the driver and the guard; buthis mind was so engrossed with his own thoughts that he heard nothingof their conversation, which was very jovial, although frequentlyinterrupted by the shrill voice of the Widow Chupin, who sang and yelledher imprecations alternately. 

It is needless, however, to recapitulate her oaths; let us rather followthe train of Lecoq's meditation. By what means could he secure some clueto the murderer's identity? He was still convinced that the prisonermust belong to the higher ranks of society. After all, it was not soextraordinary that he should have succeeded in feigning an appetite, that he should have concealed his distaste for a nauseous beverage, andthat he should have entered the Black Maria without hesitation. Suchconduct was quite possible, indeed almost probable on the part of a man, endowed with considerable strength of will, and realizing the imminenceof his peril. But granting this, would he be equally able to hide hisfeelings when he was obliged to submit to the humiliating formalitiesthat awaited him--formalities which in certain cases can, and must, bepushed even to the verge of insult and outrage?

No; Lecoq could not believe that this would be possible. He felt surethat the disgraceful position in which the prisoner would find himselfwould cause him to revolt, to lose his self-control, to utter some wordthat might give the desired clue. 

It was not until the gloomy vehicle had turned off the Pont Neuf on tothe Quai de l'Horloge that the young detective became conscious of whatwas transpiring around him. Soon the van passed through an open gateway, and drew up in a small, damp courtyard. 

Lecoq immediately alighted, and opened the door of the compartment inwhich the supposed murderer was confined, exclaiming as he did so: "Herewe are, get out. " There was no fear of the prisoner escaping. The irongate had been closed, and at least a dozen agents were standing near athand, waiting to have a look at the new arrivals. 

The prisoner slowly stepped to the ground. His expression of faceremained unchanged, and each gesture evinced the perfect indifference ofa man accustomed to such ordeals. 

Lecoq scrutinized his demeanor as attentively as an anatomist might havewatched the action of a muscle. He noted that the prisoner seemed toexperience a sensation of satisfaction directly his foot touchedthe pavement of the courtyard, that he drew a long breath, and thenstretched and shook himself, as if to regain the elasticity of hislimbs, cramped by confinement in the narrow compartment from which hehad just emerged. Then he glanced around him, and a scarcely perceptiblesmile played upon his lips. One might have sworn that the place wasfamiliar to him, that he was well acquainted with these high grim walls, these grated windows, these heavy doors--in short, with all the sinisterbelongings of a prison. 

"Good Lord!" murmured Lecoq, greatly chagrined, "does he indeedrecognize the place?"

And his sense of disappointment and disquietude increased when, withoutwaiting for a word, a motion, or a sign, the prisoner turned towardone of the five or six doors that opened into the courtyard. Without aninstant's hesitation he walked straight toward the very doorway he wasexpected to enter--Lecoq asked himself was it chance? But his amazementand disappointment increased tenfold when, after entering the gloomycorridor, he saw the culprit proceed some little distance, resolutelyturn to the left, pass by the keeper's room, and finally enter theregistrar's office. An old offender could not have done better. 

Big drops of perspiration stood on Lecoq's forehead. "This man, " thoughthe, "has certainly been here before; he knows the ropes. "

The registrar's office was a large room heated almost to suffocation byan immense stove, and badly lighted by three small windows, the panesof which were covered with a thick coating of dust. There sat the clerkreading a newspaper, spread out over the open register--that fatal bookin which are inscribed the names of all those whom misconduct, crime, misfortune, madness, or error have brought to these grim portals. 

Three or four attendants, who were awaiting the hour for entering upontheir duties, reclined half asleep upon the wooden benches that linedthree sides of the room. These benches, with a couple of tables, andsome dilapidated chairs, constituted the entire furniture of the office, in one corner of which stood a measuring machine, under which eachculprit was obliged to pass, the exact height of the prisoners beingrecorded in order that the description of their persons might becomplete in every respect. 

At the entrance of the culprit accompanied by Lecoq, the clerk raisedhis head. "Ah!" said he, "has the van arrived?"

"Yes, " responded Lecoq. And showing the orders signed by M. D'Escorval, he added: "Here are this man's papers. "

The registrar took the documents and read them. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "a triple assassination! Oh! oh!" The glance he gave the prisonerwas positively deferential. This was no common culprit, no ordinaryvagabond, no vulgar thief. 

"The investigating magistrate orders a private examination, " continuedthe clerk, "and I must get the prisoner other clothing, as the thingshe is wearing now will be used as evidence. Let some one go at once andtell the superintendent that the other occupants of the van must wait. "

At this moment, the governor of the Depot entered the office. The clerkat once dipped his pen in the ink, and turning to the prisoner he asked:"What is your name?"

"May. "

"Your Christian name?"

"I have none. "

"What, have you no Christian name?"

The prisoner seemed to reflect for a moment, and then answered, sulkily:"I may as well tell you that you need not tire yourself by questioningme. I shan't answer any one else but the magistrate. You would like tomake me cut my own throat, wouldn't you? A very clever trick, of course, but one that won't do for me. "

"You must see that you only aggravate your situation, " observed thegovernor. 

"Not in the least. I am innocent; you wish to ruin me. I only defendmyself. Get anything more out of me now, if you can. But you had bettergive me back what they took from me at the station-house. My hundred andthirty-six francs and eight sous. I shall need them when I get out ofthis place. I want you to make a note of them on the register. Where arethey?"

The money had been given to Lecoq by the keeper of the station-house, who had found it upon the prisoner when he was placed in his custody. Lecoq now laid it upon the table. 

"Here are your hundred and thirty-six francs and eight sous, " said he, "and also your knife, your handkerchief, and four cigars. "

An expression of lively contentment was discernible on the prisoner'sfeatures. 

"Now, " resumed the clerk, "will you answer?"

But the governor perceived the futility of further questioning; andsilencing the clerk by a gesture, he told the prisoner to take off hisboots. 

Lecoq thought the assassin's glance wavered as he heard this order. Wasit only a fancy?

"Why must I do that?" asked the culprit. 

"To pass under the beam, " replied the clerk. "We must make a note ofyour exact height. "

The prisoner made no reply, but sat down and drew off his heavy boots. The heel of the right one was worn down on the inside. It was, moreover, noticed that the prisoner wore no socks, and that his feet were coatedwith mud. 

"You only wear boots on Sundays, then?" remarked Lecoq. 

"Why do you think that?"

"By the mud with which your feet are covered, as high as theankle-bone. "

"What of that?" exclaimed the prisoner, in an insolent tone. "Is it acrime not to have a marchioness's feet?"

"It is a crime you are not guilty of, at all events, " said the youngdetective slowly. "Do you think I can't see that if the mud were pickedoff your feet would be white and neat? The nails have been carefully cutand polished--"

He paused. A new idea inspired by his genius for investigation had justcrossed Lecoq's mind. Pushing a chair in front of the prisoner, andspreading a newspaper over it, he said: "Will you place your footthere?"

The man did not comply with the request. 

"It is useless to resist, " exclaimed the governor, "we are in force. "

The prisoner delayed no longer. He placed his foot on the chair, ashe had been ordered, and Lecoq, with the aid of a knife, proceeded toremove the fragments of mud that adhered to the skin. 

Anywhere else so strange and grotesque a proceeding would have excitedlaughter, but here, in this gloomy chamber, the anteroom of the assizecourt, an otherwise trivial act is fraught with serious import. Nothingastonishes; and should a smile threaten to curve one's lips, it isinstantly repressed. 

All the spectators, from the governor of the prison to the keepers, hadwitnessed many other incidents equally absurd; and no one thought ofinquiring the detective's motive. This much was known already; that theprisoner was trying to conceal his identity. Now it was necessary toestablish it, at any cost, and Lecoq had probably discovered some meansof attaining this end. 

The operation was soon concluded; and Lecoq swept the dust off the paperinto the palm of his hand. He divided it into two parts, enclosing oneportion in a scrap of paper, and slipping it into his own pocket. Withthe remainder he formed a package which he handed to the governor, saying: "I beg you, sir, to take charge of this, and to seal it up here, in presence of the prisoner. This formality is necessary, so that by andby he may not pretend that the dust has been changed. "

The governor complied with the request, and as he placed this "bitof proof" (as he styled it) in a small satchel for safe keeping, theprisoner shrugged his shoulders with a sneering laugh. Still, beneaththis cynical gaiety Lecoq thought he could detect poignant anxiety. Chance owed him the compensation of this slight triumph; for previousevents had deceived all his calculations. 

The prisoner did not offer the slightest objection when he was orderedto undress, and to exchange his soiled and bloodstained garments forthe clothing furnished by the Government. Not a muscle of his face movedwhile he submitted his person to one of those ignominous examinationswhich make the blood rush to the forehead of the lowest criminal. It waswith perfect indifference that he allowed an inspector to comb his hairand beard, and to examine the inside of his mouth, so as to make surethat he had not concealed either some fragment of glass, by the aidof which captives can sever the strongest bars, or one of thosemicroscopical bits of lead with which prisoners write the notes theyexchange, rolled up in a morsel of bread, and called "postilions. "

These formalities having been concluded, the superintendent rang forone of the keepers. "Conduct this man to No. 3 of the secret cells, " heordered. 

There was no need to drag the prisoner away. He walked out, as he hadentered, preceding the guard, like some old habitue, who knows where heis going. 

"What a rascal!" exclaimed the clerk. 

"Then you think--" began Lecoq, baffled but not convinced. 

"Ah! there can be no doubt of it, " declared the governor. "This man iscertainly a dangerous criminal--an old offender--I think I have seen himbefore--I could almost swear to it. "

Thus it was evident these people, with their long, varied experience, shared Gevrol's opinion; Lecoq stood alone. He did not discuss thematter--what good would it have done? Besides, the Widow Chupin was justbeing brought in. 

The journey must have calmed her nerves, for she had become as gentleas a lamb. It was in a wheedling voice, and with tearful eyes, that shecalled upon these "good gentlemen" to witness the shameful injusticewith which she was treated--she, an honest woman. Was she not themainstay of her family (since her son Polyte was in custody, chargedwith pocket-picking), hence what would become of her daughter-in-law, and of her grandson Toto, who had no one to look after them but her?

Still, when her name had been taken, and a keeper was ordered to removeher, nature reasserted itself, and scarcely had she entered the corridorthan she was heard quarreling with the guard. 

"You are wrong not to be polite, " she said; "you are losing a good fee, without counting many a good drink I would stand you when I get out ofhere. "

Lecoq was now free until M. D'Escorval's arrival. He wandered throughthe gloomy corridors, from office to office, but finding himselfassailed with questions by every one he came across, he eventually leftthe Depot, and went and sat down on one of the benches beside the quay. Here he tried to collect his thoughts. His convictions were unchanged. He was more than ever convinced that the prisoner was concealing hisreal social standing, but, on the other hand, it was evident that he waswell acquainted with the prison and its usages. 

He had also proved himself to be endowed with far more cleverness thanLecoq had supposed. What self-control! What powers of dissimulationhe had displayed! He had not so much as frowned while undergoing theseverest ordeals, and he had managed to deceive the most experiencedeyes in Paris. 

The young detective had waited during nearly three hours, as motionlessas the bench on which he was seated, and so absorbed in studying hiscase that he had thought neither of the cold nor of the flight oftime, when a carriage drew up before the entrance of the prison, and M. D'Escorval alighted, followed by his clerk. 

Lecoq rose and hastened, well-nigh breathless with anxiety, toward themagistrate. 

"My researches on the spot, " said this functionary, "confirm me in thebelief that you are right. Is there anything fresh?"

"Yes, sir; a fact that is apparently very trivial, though, in truth, itis of importance that--"

"Very well!" interrupted the magistrate. "You will explain it to me byand by. First of all, I must summarily examine the prisoners. A merematter of form for to-day. Wait for me here. "

Although the magistrate promised to make haste, Lecoq expected thatat least an hour would elapse before he reappeared. In this he wasmistaken. Twenty minutes later, M. D'Escorval emerged from the prisonwithout his clerk. 

He was walking very fast, and instead of approaching the youngdetective, he called to him at some little distance. "I must return homeat once, " he said, "instantly; I can not listen to you. "

"But, sir--"

"Enough! the bodies of the victims have been taken to the Morgue. Keepa sharp lookout there. Then, this evening make--well--do whatever youthink best. "

"But, sir, I must--"

"To-morrow!--to-morrow, at nine o'clock, in my office in the Palais deJustice. "

Lecoq wished to insist upon a hearing, but M. D'Escorval had entered, orrather thrown himself into, his carriage, and the coachman was alreadywhipping up the horse. 

"And to think that he's an investigating magistrate, " panted Lecoq, leftspellbound on the quay. "Has he gone mad?" As he spoke, an uncharitablethought took possession of his mind. "Can it be, " he murmured, "that M. D'Escorval holds the key to the mystery? Perhaps he wishes to get rid ofme. "

This suspicion was so terrible that Lecoq hastened back to the prison, hoping that the prisoner's bearing might help to solve his doubts. On peering through the grated aperture in the door of the cell, heperceived the prisoner lying on the pallet that stood opposite thedoor. His face was turned toward the wall, and he was enveloped in thecoverlid up to his eyes. He was not asleep, for Lecoq could detect astrange movement of the body, which puzzled and annoyed him. On applyinghis ear instead of his eye to the aperture, he distinguished a stifledmoan. There could no longer be any doubt. The death rattle was soundingin the prisoner's throat. 

"Help! help!" cried Lecoq, greatly excited. "The prisoner is killinghimself!"

A dozen keepers hastened to the spot. The door was quickly opened, and it was then ascertained that the prisoner, having torn a strip ofbinding from his clothes, had fastened it round his neck and tried tostrangle himself with the assistance of a spoon that had been left himwith his food. He was already unconscious, and the prison doctor, whoimmediately bled him, declared that had another ten minutes elapsed, help would have arrived too late. 

When the prisoner regained his senses, he gazed around him with awild, puzzled stare. One might have supposed that he was amazed to findhimself still alive. Suddenly a couple of big tears welled from hisswollen eyelids, and rolled down his cheeks. He was pressed withquestions, but did not vouchsafe so much as a single word in response. As he was in such a desperate frame of mind, and as the orders tokeep him in solitary confinement prevented the governor giving him acompanion, it was decided to put a straight waistcoat on him. Lecoqassisted at this operation, and then walked away, puzzled, thoughtful, and agitated. Intuition told him that these mysterious occurrencesconcealed some terrible drama. 

"Still, what can have occurred since the prisoner's arrival here?" hemurmured. "Has he confessed his guilt to the magistrate, or what is hisreason for attempting so desperate an act?"

VIII

Lecoq did not sleep that night, although he had been on his feet formore than forty hours, and had scarcely paused either to eat or drink. Anxiety, hope, and even fatigue itself, had imparted to his bodythe fictitious strength of fever, and to his intellect the unhealthyacuteness which is so often the result of intense mental effort. 

He no longer had to occupy himself with imaginary deductions, as informer times when in the employ of his patron, the astronomer. Onceagain did the fact prove stranger than fiction. Here was reality--aterrible reality personified by the corpses of three victims lying onthe marble slabs at the Morgue. Still, if the catastrophe itself was apatent fact, its motive, its surroundings, could only be conjectured. Who could tell what circumstances had preceded and paved the way forthis tragical denouement?

It is true that all doubt might be dispelled by one discovery--theidentity of the murderer. Who was he? Who was right, Gevrol or Lecoq?The former's views were shared by the officials at the prison;the latter stood alone. Again, the former's opinion was based uponformidable proof, the evidence of sight; while Lecoq's hypothesis restedonly on a series of subtle observations and deductions, starting from asingle sentence that had fallen from the prisoner's lips. 

And yet Lecoq resolutely persisted in his theory, guided by thefollowing reasons. He learnt from M. D'Escorval's clerk that when themagistrate had examined the prisoner, the latter not only refused toconfess, but answered all the questions put to him in the most evasivefashion. In several instances, moreover, he had not replied at all. Ifthe magistrate had not insisted, it was because this first examinationwas a mere formality, solely intended to justify the somewhat prematuredelivery of the order to imprison the accused. 

Now, under these circumstances, how was one to explain the prisoner'sattempt at self-destruction? Prison statistics show that habitualoffenders do not commit suicide. When apprehended for a criminal act, they are sometimes seized with a wild frenzy and suffer repeated nervousattacks; at others they fall into a dull stupor, just as some gluttedbeast succumbs to sleep with the blood of his prey still dripping fromhis lips. However, such men never think of putting an end to their days. They hold fast to life, no matter how seriously they may be compromised. In truth, they are cowards. 

On the other hand, the unfortunate fellow who, in a moment of frenzy, commits a crime, not unfrequently seeks to avoid the consequences of hisact by self-destruction. 

Hence, the prisoner's frustrated attempt at suicide was a strongargument in favor of Lecoq's theory. This wretched man's secret must bea terrible one since he held it dearer than life, since he had tried todestroy himself that he might take it unrevealed to the grave. 

Four o'clock was striking when Lecoq sprang from his bed on which he hadthrown himself without undressing; and five minutes later he was walkingdown the Rue Montmartre. The weather was still cold and muggy; and athick fog hung over the city. But the young detective was tooengrossed with his own thoughts to pay attention to any atmosphericalunpleasantness. Walking with a brisk stride, he had just reached thechurch of Saint Eustache, when a coarse, mocking voice accosted him withthe exclamation: "Ah, ha! my fine fellow!"

He looked up and perceived Gevrol, who, with three of his men, had cometo cast his nets round about the markets, whence the police generallyreturn with a good haul of thieves and vagabonds. 

"You are up very early this morning, Monsieur Lecoq, " continued theinspector; "you are still trying to discover our man's identity, Isuppose?"

"Still trying. "

"Is he a prince in disguise, or only a marquis?"

"One or the other, I am quite certain. "

"All right then. In that case you will not refuse us the opportunity todrink to your success. "

Lecoq consented, and the party entered a wine-shop close by. When theglasses were filled, Lecoq turned to Gevrol and exclaimed: "Upon myword, General, our meeting will save me a long walk. I was going to theprefecture to request you, on M. D'Escorval's behalf, to send one ofour comrades to the Morgue this morning. The affair at the Poivriere hasbeen noised about, and all the world will be there, so he desires someofficer to be present to watch the crowd and listen to the remarks ofthe visitors. "

"All right; Father Absinthe shall be there when the doors open. "

To send Father Absinthe where a shrewd and subtle agent was required wasa mockery. Still Lecoq did not protest, for it was better to be badlyserved than to be betrayed; and he could at least trust Father Absinthe. 

"It doesn't much matter, " continued Gevrol; "but you should haveinformed me of this last evening. However, when I reached the prefectureyou had gone. "

"I had some work to do. "

"Yes?"

"At the station-house near the Barriere d'Italie. I wanted to knowwhether the floor of the cell was paved or tiled. " So saying, Lecoq paidthe score, saluted his superior officer, and went out. 

"Thunder!" exclaimed Gevrol, striking his glass violently upon thecounter. "Thunder! how that fellow provokes me! He does not know the AB C of his profession. When he can't discover anything, he inventswonderful stories, and then misleads the magistrates with hishigh-sounding phrases, in the hope of gaining promotion. I'll give himadvancement with a vengeance! I'll teach him to set himself above me!"

Lecoq had not been deceived. The evening before, he had visited thestation-house where the prisoner had first been confined, and hadcompared the soil of the cell floor with the dust he had placed inhis pocket; and he carried away with him, as he believed, one of thosecrushing proofs that often suffice to extort from the most obstinatecriminal a complete confession. If Lecoq was in haste to part companywith Gevrol, it was because he was anxious to pursue his investigationsstill further, before appearing in M. D'Escorval's presence. He wasdetermined to find the cab-driver who had been stopped by the two womenin the Rue du Chevaleret; and with this object in view, he had obtainedat the prefecture the names and addresses of all the cab-owners hiringbetween the road to Fontainebleau and the Seine. 

His earlier efforts at investigation proved unsuccessful. At the firstestablishment he visited, the stable boys, who were not yet up, swore athim roundly. In the second, he found the grooms at work, but none of thedrivers had as yet put in an appearance. Moreover, the owner refused toshow him the books upon which are recorded--or should be recorded--eachdriver's daily engagements. Lecoq was beginning to despair, when atabout half-past seven o'clock he reached an establishment just beyondthe fortifications belonging to a man named Trigault. Here he learnedthat on Sunday night, or rather, early on Monday morning, one of thedrivers had been accosted on his way home by some persons who succeededin persuading him to drive them back into Paris. 

This driver, who was then in the courtyard harnessing his horse, provedto be a little old man, with a ruddy complexion, and a pair of smalleyes full of cunning. Lecoq walked up to him at once. 

"Was it you, " he asked, "who, on Sunday night or rather on Monday, between one and two in the morning, drove a couple of women from the Ruedu Chevaleret into Paris?"

The driver looked up, and surveying Lecoq attentively, cautiouslyreplied: "Perhaps. "

"It is a positive answer that I want. "

"Aha!" said the old man sneeringly, "you know two ladies who have lostsomething in a cab, and so--"

The young detective trembled with satisfaction. This man was certainlythe one he was looking for. "Have you heard anything about a crime thathas been committed in the neighborhood?" he interrupted. 

"Yes; a murder in a low wine-shop. "

"Well, then, I will tell you that these two women are mixed up in it;they fled when we entered the place. I am trying to find them. I am adetective; here is my card. Now, can you give me any information?"

The driver had grown very pale. "Ah! the wretches!" he exclaimed. "Iam no longer surprised at the luck-money they gave me--a louis and twofive-franc pieces for the fare--thirty francs in all. Cursed money! If Ihadn't spent it, I'd throw it away!"

"And where did you drive them?"

"To the Rue de Bourgogne. I have forgotten the number, but I shouldrecognize the house. "

"Unfortunately, they would not have let you drive them to their owndoor. "

"Who knows? I saw them ring the bell, and I think they went in just as Idrove away. Shall I take you there?"

Lecoq's sole response was to spring on to the box, exclaiming: "Let usbe off. "

It was not to be supposed that the women who had escaped from the WidowChupin's drinking-den at the moment of the murder were utterly devoidof intelligence. Nor was it at all likely that these two fugitives, conscious as they were of their perilous situation, had gone straightto their real home in a vehicle hired on the public highway. Hence, the driver's hope of finding them in the Rue de Bourgogne was purelychimerical. Lecoq was fully aware of this, and yet he did not hesitateto jump on to the box and give the signal for starting. In so doing, heobeyed a maxim which he had framed in his early days of meditation--amaxim intended to assure his after-fame, and which ran as follows:"Always suspect that which seems probable; and begin by believing whatappears incredible. "

As soon as the vehicle was well under way, the young detective proceededto ingratiate himself into the driver's good graces, being anxious toobtain all the information that this worthy was able to impart. 

In a tone that implied that all trifling would be useless the cabmancried: "Hey up, hey up, Cocotte!" and his mare pricked up her ears andquickened her pace, so that the Rue de Choisy was speedily reached. Thenit was that Lecoq resumed his inquiries. 

"Well, my good fellow, " he began, "you have told me the principal facts, now I should like the details. How did these two women attract yourattention?"

"Oh, it was very simple. I had been having a most unfortunate day--sixhours on a stand on the Boulevards, with the rain pouring all the time. It was simply awful. At midnight I had not made more than a franc and ahalf for myself, but I was so wet and miserable and the horse seemed sodone up that I decided to go home. I did grumble, I can tell you. Well, I had just passed the corner of the Rue Picard, in the Rue duChevaleret, when I saw two women standing under a lamp, some littledistance off. I did not pay any attention to them; for when a man is asold as I am, women--"

"Go on!" said Lecoq, who could not restrain his impatience. 

"I had already passed them, when they began to call after me. Ipretended I did not hear them; but one of them ran after the cab, crying: 'A louis! a louis for yourself!' I hesitated for a moment, whenthe woman added: 'And ten francs for the fare!' I then drew up. "

Lecoq was boiling over with impatience; but he felt that the wisestcourse was not to interrupt the driver with questions, but to listen toall he had to say. 

"As you may suppose, " continued the coachman, "I wasn't inclined totrust two such suspicious characters, alone at that hour and in thatpart of the city. So, just as they were about to get into the cab, Icalled to them: 'Wait a bit, my little friends, you have promised papasome sous; where are they?' The one who had called after the cab at oncehanded me thirty francs, saying: 'Above all, make haste!'"

"Your recital could not be more minute, " exclaimed Lecoq, approvingly. "Now, how about these two women?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what kind of women did they seem to be; what did you take themfor?"

"Oh, for nothing very good!" replied the driver, with a knowing smile. 

"Ah! and how were they dressed?"

"Like most of the girls who go to dance at the Rainbow. One of them, however, was very neat and prim, while the other--well! she was aterrible dowdy. "

"Which ran after you?"

"The girl who was neatly dressed, the one who--" The driver suddenlypaused: some vivid remembrance passed through his brain, and, abruptlyjerking the rains, he brought his horse to a standstill. 

"Thunder!" he exclaimed. "Now I think of it, I did notice somethingstrange. One of the two women called the other 'Madame' as large aslife, while the other said 'thee' and 'thou, ' and spoke as if she weresomebody. "

"Oh! oh! oh!" exclaimed the young detective, in three different keys. "And which was it that said 'thee' and 'thou'?"

"Why, the dowdy one. She with shabby dress and shoes as big as a goutyman's. You should have seen her shake the prim-looking girl, as if shehad been a plum tree. 'You little fool!' said she, 'do you want to ruinus? You will have time to faint when we get home; now come along. Andthen she began to sob: 'Indeed, madame, indeed I can't!' she said, andreally she seemed quite unable to move: in fact, she appeared to be soill that I said to myself: 'Here is a young woman who has drunk morethan is good for her!'"

These facts confirmed even if they corrected Lecoq's first suppositions. As he had suspected, the social position of the two women was not thesame. He had been mistaken, however, in attributing the higher standingto the woman wearing the shoes with the high heels, the marks of whichhe had so particularly noticed in the snow, with all the attendant signsof precipitation, terror, and weakness. In reality, social preeminencebelonged to the woman who had left the large, broad footprints behindher. And not merely was she of a superior rank, but she had also shownsuperior energy. Contrary to Lecoq's original idea, it now seemedevident that she was the mistress, and her companion the servant. 

"Is that all, my good fellow?" he asked the driver, who during the lastfew minutes had been busy with his horses. 

"Yes, " replied the cabman, "except that I noticed that the shabbilydressed woman who paid me had a hand as small as a child's, and in spiteof her anger, her voice was as sweet as music. "

"Did you see her face?"

"I just caught a glimpse of it. "

"Could you tell if she were pretty, or whether she was a blonde orbrunette?"

So many questions at a time confused the driver. "Stop a minute!" hereplied. "In my opinion she wasn't pretty, and I don't believe she wasyoung, but she certainly was a blonde, and with plenty of hair too. "

"Was she tall or short, stout or slender?"

"Between the two. "

This was very vague. "And the other, " asked Lecoq, "the neatly dressedone?"

"The deuce! As for her, I did not notice her at all; all I know abouther is that she was very small. "

"Would you recognize her if you met her again?"

"Good heavens! no. "

The vehicle was now rolling along the Rue de Bourgogne. Half-way downthe street the driver pulled up, and, turning to Lecoq, exclaimed: "Herewe are. That's the house the hussies went into. "

To draw off the silk handkerchief that served him as a muffler, to foldit and slip it into his pocket, to spring to the ground and enterthe house indicated, was only the work of an instant for the youngdetective. 

In the concierge's little room he found an old woman knitting. Lecoqbowed to her politely, and, displaying the silk handkerchief, exclaimed:"Madame, I have come to return this article to one of your lodgers. "

"To which one?"

"Really, I don't exactly know. "

In a moment the worthy dame imagined that this polite young man wasmaking fun of her. "You scamp--!" she began. 

"Excuse me, " interrupted Lecoq; "allow me to finish. I must tell youthat at about three o'clock in the morning, of the day before yesterday, I was quietly returning home, when two ladies, who were seemingly ina great hurry, overtook me and passed on. One of them dropped thishandkerchief, which I picked up. I hastened after her to restore it, but before I could overtake them they had rung the bell at your door andwere already in the house. I did not like to ring at such an unearthlyhour for fear of disturbing you. Yesterday I was so busy I couldn'tcome; however, here I am at last, and here's the handkerchief. " Sosaying, Lecoq laid the handkerchief on the table, and turned as if togo, when the concierge detained him. 

"Many thanks for your kindness, " said she, "but you can keep it. We haveno ladies in this house who are in the habit of coming home alone aftermidnight. "

"Still I have eyes, " insisted Lecoq, "and I certainly saw--"

"Ah! I had forgotten, " exclaimed the old woman. "The night you speakof some one certainly did ring the bell here. I pulled the string thatopens the door and listened, but not hearing any one close the dooror come upstairs, I said to myself: 'Some mischievous fellow has beenplaying a trick on me. ' I slipped on my dress and went out into thehall, where I saw two women hastening toward the door. Before I couldreach them they slammed the door in my face. I opened it again asquickly as I could and looked out into the street. But they werehurrying away as fast as they could. "

"In what direction?"

"Oh! they were running toward the Rue de Varennes. "

Lecoq was baffled again; however, he bowed civilly to the concierge, whom he might possibly have need of at another time, and then went backto the cab. "As I had supposed, they do not live here, " he remarked tothe driver. 

The latter shrugged his shoulders in evident vexation, which wouldinevitably have vent in a torrent of words, if Lecoq, who had consultedhis watch, had not forestalled the outburst by saying: "Nine o'clock--Iam an hour behind time already: still I shall have some news to tell. Now take me to the Morgue as quickly as possible. "

When a mysterious crime has been perpetrated, or a great catastrophe hashappened, and the identity of the victims has not been established, "a great day" invariably follows at the Morgue. The attendants are soaccustomed to the horrors of the place that the most sickly sight failsto impress them; and even under the most distressing circumstances, theyhasten gaily to and fro, exchanging jests well calculated to make anordinary mortal's flesh creep. As a rule, they are far less interestedin the corpses laid out for public view on the marble slabs in theprincipal hall than in the people of every age and station in life whocongregate here all day long; at times coming in search of some lostrelative or friend, but far more frequently impelled by idle curiosity. 

As the vehicle conveying Lecoq reached the quay, the young detectiveperceived that a large, excited crowd was gathered outside thebuilding. The newspapers had reported the tragedy at the Widow Chupin'sdrinking-den, of course, more or less correctly, and everybody wished tosee the victims. 

On drawing near the Pont Notre Dame, Lecoq told the driver to pull up. "I prefer to alight here, rather than in front of the Morgue, " he said, springing to the ground. Then, producing first his watch, and nexthis purse, he added: "We have been an hour and forty minutes, my goodfellow, consequently I owe you--"

"Nothing at all, " replied the driver, decidedly. 

"But--"

"No--not a sou. I am too worried already to think that I took the moneythese hussies offered me. It would only have served me right if theliquor I bought with it had given me the gripes. Don't be uneasy aboutthe score, and if you need a trap use mine for nothing, till you havecaught the jades. " As Lecoq's purse was low, he did not insist. "Youwill, at least, take my name and address?" continued the driver. 

"Certainly. The magistrate will want your evidence, and a summons willbe sent you. "

"All right, then. Address it to Papillon (Eugene), driver, care of M. Trigault. I lodge at his place, because I have some small interest inthe business, you see. "

The young detective was hastening away, when Papillon called him back. "When you leave the Morgue you will want to go somewhere else, " he said, "you told me that you had another appointment, and that you were alreadylate. "

"Yes, I ought to be at the Palais de Justice; but it is only a few stepsfrom here. "

"No matter. I will wait for you at the corner of the bridge. It'suseless to say 'no'; I've made up my mind, and I'm a Breton, you know. Iwant you to ride out the thirty francs that those jades paid me. "

It would have been cruel to refuse such a request. Accordingly, Lecoqmade a gesture of assent, and then hurried toward the Morgue. 

If there was a crowd on the roadway outside, it was because the gloomybuilding itself was crammed full of people. Indeed, the sightseers, mostof whom could see nothing at all, were packed as closely as sardines, and it was only by dint of well-nigh superhuman efforts that Lecoqmanaged to effect an entrance. As usual, he found among the mob a largenumber of girls and women; for, strange to say, the Parisian fair sex israther partial to the disgusting sights and horrible emotions that repaya visit to the Morgue. 

The shop and work girls who reside in the neighborhood readily go out oftheir way to catch a glimpse of the corpses which crime, accident, andsuicide bring to this horrible place. A few, the more sensitive amongthem, may come no further than the door, but the others enter, andafter a long stare return and recount their impressions to their lesscourageous companions. 

If there should be no corpse exhibited; if all the marble slabs areunoccupied, strange as it may seem, the visitors turn hastily away withan expression of disappointment or discontent. There was no fear oftheir doing so, however, on the morrow of the tragedy at Poivriere, forthe mysterious murderer whose identity Lecoq was trying to establish hadfurnished three victims for their delectation. Panting with curiosity, they paid but little attention to the unhealthy atmosphere: and yeta damp chill came from beyond the iron railings, while from the crowditself rose an infectious vapor, impregnated with the stench of thechloride of lime used as a disinfectant. 

As a continuous accompaniment to the exclamations, sighs, and whisperedcomments of the bystanders came the murmur of the water trickling from aspigot at the head of each slab; a tiny stream that flowed forth only tofall in fine spray upon the marble. Through the small arched windowsa gray light stole in on the exposed bodies, bringing each muscle intobold relief, revealing the ghastly tints of the lifeless flesh, andimparting a sinister aspect to the tattered clothing hung around theroom to aid in the identification of the corpses. This clothing, after acertain time, is sold--for nothing is wasted at the Morgue. 

However, Lecoq was too occupied with his own thoughts to remark thehorrors of the scene. He scarcely bestowed a glance on the threevictims. He was looking for Father Absinthe, whom he could not perceive. Had Gevrol intentionally or unintentionally failed to fulfil hispromise, or had Father Absinthe forgotten his duty in his morning dram?

Unable to explain the cause of his comrade's absence, Lecoq addressedhimself to the head keeper: "It would seem that no one has recognizedthe victims, " he remarked. 

"No one. And yet, ever since opening, we have had an immense crowd. If Iwere master here, on days like this, I would charge an admission fee oftwo sous a head, with half-price for children. It would bring in a roundsum, more than enough to cover the expenses. "

The keeper's reply seemed to offer an inducement to conversation, butLecoq did not seize it. "Excuse me, " he interrupted, "didn't a detectivecome here this morning?"

"Yes, there was one here. "

"Has he gone away then? I don't see him anywhere?"

The keeper glanced suspiciously at his eager questioner, but after amoment's hesitation, he ventured to inquire: "Are you one of them?"

"Yes, I am, " replied Lecoq, exhibiting his card in support of hisassertion. 

"And your name?"

"Is Lecoq. "

The keeper's face brightened up. "In that case, " said he, "I have aletter for you, written by your comrade, who was obliged to go away. Here it is. "

The young detective at once tore open the envelope and read: "MonsieurLecoq--"

"Monsieur?" This simple formula of politeness brought a faint smile tohis lips. Was it not, on Father Absinthe's part, an evident recognitionof his colleague's superiority. Indeed, our hero accepted it as a tokenof unquestioning devotion which it would be his duty to repay with amaster's kind protection toward his first disciple. However, he had notime to waste in thought, and accordingly at once proceeded to perusethe note, which ran as follows:

"Monsieur Lecoq--I had been standing on duty since the opening of theMorgue, when at about nine o'clock three young men entered, arm-in-arm. From their manner and appearance, I judged them to be clerks in somestore or warehouse. Suddenly I noticed that one of them turned as whiteas his shirt; and calling the attention of his companions to one of theunknown victims, he whispered: 'Gustave!'

"His comrades put their hands over his mouth, and one of them exclaimed:'What are you about, you fool, to mix yourself up with this affair! Doyou want to get us into trouble?'

"Thereupon they went out, and I followed them. But the person who hadfirst spoken was so overcome that he could scarcely drag himself along;and his companions were obliged to take him to a little restaurant closeby. I entered it myself, and it is there I write this letter, in themean time watching them out of the corner of my eye. I send this note, explaining my absence, to the head keeper, who will give it you. Youwill understand that I am going to follow these men. A. B. S. "

The handwriting of this letter was almost illegible; and there weremistakes in spelling in well-nigh every line; still, its meaning wasclear and exact, and could not fail to excite the most flattering hopes. 

Lecoq's face was so radiant when he returned to the cab that, as the oldcoachman urged on his horse, he could not refrain from saying: "Thingsare going on to suit you. "

A friendly "hush!" was the only response. It required all Lecoq'sattention to classify this new information. When he alighted from thecab in front of the Palais de Justice, he experienced considerabledifficulty in dismissing the old cabman, who insisted upon remaining athis orders. He succeeded at last, however, but even when he had reachedthe portico on the left side of the building, the worthy fellow, standing up, still shouted at the top of his voice: "At M. Trigault'shouse--don't forget--Father Papillon--No. 998--1, 000 less 2--"

Lecoq had entered the left wing of the Palais. He climbed the stairstill he had reached the third floor, and was about to enter the long, narrow, badly-lighted corridor known as the Galerie de l'Instruction, when, finding a doorkeeper installed behind a heavy oaken desk, heremarked: "M. D'Escorval is, of course, in his office?"

The man shook his head. "No, " said he, "M. D'Escorval is not here thismorning, and he won't be here for several weeks. "

"Why not! What do you mean?"

"Last night, as he was alighting from his carriage, at his own door, hehad a most unfortunate fall, and broke his leg. "

IX

Some men are wealthy. They own a carriage drawn by a pair ofhigh-stepping horses, and driven by a coachman in stylish livery; andas they pass by, leaning back on comfortable cushions, they become theobject of many an envious glance. Sometimes, however, the coachman hastaken a drop too much, and upsets the carriage; perhaps the horsesrun away and a general smash ensues; or, maybe, the hitherto fortunateowner, in a moment of absent-mindedness, misses the step, and fractureshis leg on the curbstone. Such accidents occur every day; and theirlong list should make humble foot-passengers bless the lowly lot whichpreserves them from such peril. 

On learning the misfortune that had befallen M. D'Escorval, Lecoq's facewore such an expression of consternation that the doorkeeper could nothelp laughing. "What is there so very extraordinary about that I've toldyou?" he asked. 

"I--oh! nothing--"

The detective did not speak the truth. The fact is, he had just beenstruck by the strange coincidence of two events--the supposed murderer'sattempted suicide, and the magistrate's fall. Still, he did not allowthe vague presentiment that flitted through his mind to assume anydefinite form. For after all, what possible connection could there bebetween the two occurrences? Then again, he never allowed himself to begoverned by prejudice, nor had he as yet enriched his formulary with anaxiom he afterward professed: "Distrust all circumstances that seem tofavor your secret wishes. "

Of course, Lecoq did not rejoice at M. D'Escorval's accident; could hehave prevented it, he would have gladly done so. Still, he could nothelp saying to himself that this stroke of misfortune would free himfrom all further connection with a man whose superciliousness anddisdain had been painfully disagreeable to his feelings. 

This thought caused a sensation of relief--almost one oflight-heartedness. "In that case, " said the young detective to thedoorkeeper, "I shall have nothing to do here this morning. "

"You must be joking, " was the reply. "Does the world stop moving becauseone man is disabled? The news only arrived an hour ago; but all theurgent business that M. D'Escorval had in charge has already beendivided among the other magistrates. "

"I came here about that terrible affair that occurred the other nightjust beyond the Barriere de Fontainebleau. "

"Eh! Why didn't you say so at once? A messenger has been sent to theprefecture after you already. M. Segmuller has charge of the case, andhe's waiting for you. "

Doubt and perplexity were plainly written on Lecoq's forehead. He wastrying to remember the magistrate that bore this name, and wonderedwhether he was a likely man to espouse his views. 

"Yes, " resumed the doorkeeper, who seemed to be in a talkative mood, "M. Segmuller--you don't seem to know him. He is a worthy man, not quite sogrim as most of our gentlemen. A prisoner he had examined said one day:'That devil there has pumped me so well that I shall certainly have myhead chopped off; but, nevertheless, he's a good fellow!"

His heart somewhat lightened by these favorable reports, Lecoq wentand tapped at a door that was indicated to him, and which bore thenumber--22. 

"Come in!" called out a pleasant voice. 

The young detective entered, and found himself face to face with aman of some forty years of age, tall and rather corpulent, who at onceexclaimed: "Ah! you are Lecoq. Very well--take a seat. I am busy justnow looking over the papers of the case, but I will attend to you infive minutes. "

Lecoq obeyed, at the same time glancing furtively at the magistratewith whom he was about to work. M. Segmuller's appearance correspondedperfectly with the description given by the doorkeeper. His plump facewore an air of frankness and benevolence, and his blue eyes had a mostpleasant expression. Nevertheless, Lecoq distrusted these appearances, and in so doing he was right. 

Born near Strasbourg, M. Segmuller possessed that candid physiognomycommon to most of the natives of blonde Alsace--a deceitful mask, which, behind seeming simplicity, not unfrequently conceals a Gascon cunning, rendered all the more dangerous since it is allied with extreme caution. He had a wonderfully alert, penetrating mind; but his system--everymagistrate has his own--was mainly good-humor. Unlike most of hiscolleagues, who were as stiff and cutting in manner as the sword whichthe statue of Justice usually holds in her hand, he made simplicity andkindness of demeanor his leading trait, though, of course, without everlosing sight of his magisterial duties. 

Still, the tone of his voice was so paternal, and the subtle purportof his questions so veiled by his seeming frankness, that most of thosewhom he examined forgot the necessity of protecting themselves, andunawares confessed their guilt. Thus, it frequently happened that whilesome unsuspecting culprit was complacently congratulating himself upongetting the best of the judge, the poor wretch was really being turnedinside out like a glove. 

By the side of such a man as M. Segmuller a grave and slender clerkwould have excited distrust; so he had chosen one who was a caricatureof himself. This clerk's name was Goguet. He was short but corpulent, and his broad, beardless face habitually wore a silly smile, not out ofkeeping with his intellect, which was none of the brightest. 

As stated above, when Lecoq entered M. Segmuller's room the latter wasbusy studying the case which had so unexpectedly fallen into his hands. All the articles which the young detective had collected, from theflakes of wool to the diamond earring, were spread out upon themagistrate's desk. With the greatest attention, he perused the reportprepared by Lecoq, and according to the different phases of the affair, he examined one or another of the objects before him, or else consultedthe plan of the ground. 

"A good half-hour elapsed before he had completed his inspection, whenhe threw himself back in his armchair. Monsieur Lecoq, " he said, slowly, "Monsieur d'Escorval has informed me by a note on the margin of thisfile of papers that you are an intelligent man, and that we can trustyou. "

"I am willing, at all events. "

"You speak too slightingly of yourself; this is the first time that anagent has brought me a report as complete as yours. You are young, andif you persevere, I think you will be able to accomplish great things inyour profession. "

Nervous with delight, Lecoq bowed and stammered his thanks. 

"Your opinion in this matter coincides with mine, " continued M. Segmuller, "and the public prosecutor informs me that M. D'Escorvalshares the same views. An enigma is before us; and it ought to besolved. "

"Oh!--we'll solve it, I am certain, sir, " exclaimed Lecoq, who at thismoment felt capable of the most extraordinary achievements. Indeed, he would have gone through fire and water for the magistrate who hadreceived him so kindly, and his enthusiasm sparkled so plainly in hiseyes that M. Segmuller could not restrain a smile. 

"I have strong hopes of it myself, " he responded; "but we are farfrom the end. Now, what have you been doing since yesterday? DidM. D'Escorval give you any orders? Have you obtained any freshinformation?"

"I don't think I have wasted my time, " replied Lecoq, who at onceproceeded to relate the various facts that had come to his knowledgesince his departure from the Poivriere. 

With rare precision and that happiness of expression which seldom failsa man well acquainted with his subject, he recounted the daring featsof the presumed accomplice, the points he had noted in thesupposed murderer's conduct, the latter's unsuccessful attempt atself-destruction. He repeated the testimony given by the cab-driver, andby the concierge in the Rue de Bourgogne, and then read the letter hehad received from Father Absinthe. 

In conclusion, he placed on the magistrate's desk some of the dirt hehad scraped from the prisoner's feet; at the same time depositing besideit a similar parcel of dust collected on the floor of the cell in whichthe murderer was confined at the Barriere d'Italie. 

When Lecoq had explained the reasons that had led him to collect thissoil, and the conclusions that might be drawn from a comparison of thetwo parcels, M. Segmuller, who had been listening attentively, at onceexclaimed: "You are right. It may be that you have discovered a means toconfound all the prisoner's denials. At all events, this is certainly aproof of surprising sagacity on your part. "

So it must have been, for Goguet, the clerk, nodded approvingly. "Capital!" he murmured. "I should never have thought of that. "

While he was talking, M. Segmuller had carefully placed all theso-called "articles of conviction" in a large drawer, from which theywould not emerge until the trial. "Now, " said he, "I understand the casewell enough to examine the Widow Chupin. We may gain some informationfrom her. "

He was laying his hand upon the bell, when Lecoq stopped him with analmost supplicating gesture. "I have one great favor to ask you, sir, "he observed. 

"What is it?--speak. "

"I should very much like to be present at this examination. It takes solittle, sometimes, to awaken a happy inspiration. "

Although the law says that the accused shall first of all be privatelyexamined by the investigating magistrate assisted by his clerk, it alsoallows the presence of police agents. Accordingly, M. Segmuller toldLecoq that he might remain. At the same time he rang his bell; which wasspeedily answered by a messenger. 

"Has the Widow Chupin been brought here, in compliance with my orders?"asked M. Segmuller. 

"Yes, sir; she is in the gallery outside. "

"Let her come in then. "

An instant later the hostess of the Poivriere entered the room, bowingto the right and to the left. This was not her first appearance beforea magistrate, and she was not ignorant of the respect that is due tojustice. Accordingly, she had arrayed herself for her examination withthe utmost care. She had arranged her rebellious gray locks in smoothbandeaux, and her garments, although of common material, lookedpositively neat. She had even persuaded one of the prison warders to buyher--with the money she had about her at the time of her arrest--a blackcrape cap, and a couple of white pocket-handkerchiefs, intending todeluge the latter with her tears, should the situation call for apathetic display. 

She was indeed far too knowing to rely solely on the mere artifices ofdress; hence, she had also drawn upon her repertoire of grimaces for aninnocent, sad, and yet resigned expression, well fitted, in her opinion, to win the sympathy and indulgence of the magistrate upon whom her fatewould depend. 

Thus disguised, with downcast eyes and honeyed voice, she looked sounlike the terrible termagant of the Poivriere, that her customers wouldscarcely have recognized her. Indeed, an honest old bachelor might haveoffered her twenty francs a month to take charge of his chambers--solelyon the strength of her good looks. But M. Segmuller had unmasked so manyhypocrites that he was not deceived for a moment. "What an old actress!"he muttered to himself, and, glancing at Lecoq, he perceived the samethought sparkling in the young detective's eyes. It is true that themagistrate's penetration may have been due to some notes he had justperused--notes containing an abstract of the woman's former life, andfurnished by the chief of police at the magistrate's request. 

With a gesture of authority M. Segmuller warned Goguet, the clerk withthe silly smile, to get his writing materials ready. He then turnedtoward the Widow Chupin. "Your name?" he asked in a sharp tone. 

"Aspasie Claperdty, my maiden name, " replied the old woman, "and to-day, the Widow Chupin, at your service, sir;" so saying, she made a lowcourtesy, and then added: "A lawful widow, you understand, sir; I havemy marriage papers safe in my chest at home; and if you wish to send anyone--"

"Your age?" interrupted the magistrate. 

"Fifty-four. "

"Your profession?"

"Dealer in wines and spirits outside of Paris, near the Rue duChateau-des-Rentiers, just beyond the fortifications. "

A prisoner's examination always begins with these questions as toindividuality, which gives both the magistrate and the culprit timeto study each other, to try, as it were, each other's strength, beforejoining in a serious struggle; just as two duelists, about to engage inmortal combat, first try a few passes with the foils. 

"Now, " resumed M. Segmuller, "we will note your antecedents. Have younot already been found guilty of several offenses?"

The Widow Chupin was too well versed in criminal procedure to beignorant of those famous records which render the denial of identitysuch a difficult matter in France. "I have been unfortunate, my goodjudge, " she whined. 

"Yes, several times. First of all, you were arrested on a charge ofreceiving stolen goods. "

"But it was proved that I was innocent, that my character was whiterthan snow. My poor, dear husband had been deceived by his comrades; thatwas all. "

"Possibly. But while your husband was undergoing his sentence, you werecondemned, first to one month's and then to three months' imprisonmentfor stealing. "

"Oh, I had some enemies who did their best to ruin me. "

"Next you were imprisoned for having led some young girls astray. "

"They were good-for-nothing hussies, my kind sir, heartless, unprincipled creatures. I did them many favors, and then they went andrelated a batch of falsehoods to ruin me. I have always been too kindand considerate toward others. "

The list of the woman's offenses was not exhausted, but M. Segmullerthought it useless to continue. "Such is your past, " he resumed. "At thepresent time your wine-shop is the resort of rogues and criminals. Your son is undergoing his fourth term of imprisonment; and it has beenclearly proved that you abetted and assisted him in his evil deeds. Yourdaughter-in-law, by some miracle, has remained honest and industrious, hence you have tormented and abused her to such an extent that theauthorities have been obliged to interfere. When she left your house youtried to keep her child--no doubt meaning to bring it up after the samefashion as its father. "

"This, " thought the Widow Chupin, "is the right moment to try andsoften the magistrate's heart. " Accordingly, she drew one of hernew handkerchiefs from her pocket, and, by dint of rubbing her eyes, endeavored to extract a tear. "Oh, unhappy me, " she groaned. "How canany one imagine that I would harm my grandson, my poor little Toto! Why, I should be worse than a wild beast to try and bring my own flesh andblood to perdition. "

She soon perceived, however, that her lamentations did not much affectM. Segmuller, hence, suddenly changing both her tone and manner, shebegan her justification. She did not positively deny her past; but shethrew all the blame on the injustice of destiny, which, while favoring afew, generally the less deserving, showed no mercy to others. Alas!she was one of those who had had no luck in life, having always beenpersecuted, despite her innocence. In this last affair, for instance, how was she to blame? A triple murder had stained her shop with blood;but the most respectable establishments are not exempt from similarcatastrophes. During her solitary confinement, she had, said she, diveddown into the deepest recesses of her conscience, and she was stillunable to discover what blame could justly be laid at her door. 

"I can tell you, " interrupted the magistrate. "You are accused ofimpeding the action of the law. "

"Good heavens! Is it possible?"

"And of seeking to defeat justice. This is equivalent to complicity, Widow Chupin; take care. When the police entered your cabin, after thiscrime had been committed, you refused to answer their questions. "

"I told them all that I knew. "

"Very well, then, you must repeat what you told them to me. "

M. Segmuller had reason to feel satisfied. He had conducted theexamination in such a way that the Widow Chupin would now have toinitiate a narrative of the tragedy. This excellent point gained; forthis shrewd old woman, possessed of all her coolness, would naturallyhave been on her guard against any direct questions. Now, it wasessential that she should not suspect either what the magistrate knewof the affair, or what he was ignorant of. By leaving her to her owndevices she might, in the course of the version which she proposed tosubstitute for the truth, not merely strengthen Lecoq's theories, butalso let fall some remark calculated to facilitate the task of futureinvestigation. Both M. Segmuller and Lecoq were of opinion that theversion of the crime which they were about to hear had been concoctedat the station-house of the Place d'Italie while the murderer and thespurious drunkard were left together, and that it had been transmittedby the accomplice to the widow during the brief conversation they wereallowed to have through the wicket of the latter's cell. 

Invited by the magistrate to recount the circumstances of the tragedy, Mother Chupin did not hesitate for a moment. "Oh, it was a very simpleaffair, my good sir, " she began. "I was sitting by my fireside on Sundayevening, when suddenly the door opened, and three men and two women camein. "

M. Segmuller and the young detective exchanged glances. The accomplicehad evidently seen Lecoq and his comrade examining the footprints, andaccordingly the presence of the two women was not to be denied. 

"What time was this?" asked the magistrate. 

"About eleven o'clock. "

"Go on. "

"As soon as they sat down they ordered a bowl of wine, a la Frangaise. Without boasting, I may say that I haven't an equal in preparing thatdrink. Of course, I waited on them, and afterward, having a blouse tomend for my boy, I went upstairs to my room, which is just over theshop. "

"Leaving the people alone?"

"Yes, my judge. "

"That showed a great deal of confidence on your part. "

The widow sadly shook her head. "People as poor as I am don't fear thethieves, " she sighed. 

"Go on--go on. "

"Well, I had been upstairs about half an hour, when I heard some onebelow call out: 'Eh! old woman!' So I went down, and found a tall, big-bearded man, who had just come in. He asked for a glass of brandy, which I brought to a table where he had sat down by himself. "

"And then did you go upstairs again?" interrupted the magistrate. 

The exclamation was ironical, of course, but no one could have told fromthe Widow Chupin's placid countenance whether she was aware that suchwas the case. 

"Precisely, my good sir, " she replied in the most composed manner. "Onlythis time I had scarcely taken up my needle when I heard a terribleuproar in the shop. I hurried downstairs to put a stop to it--but heavenknows my interference would have been of little use. The three men whohad come in first of all had fallen upon the newcomer, and they werebeating him, my good sir, they were killing him. I screamed. Just thenthe man who had come in alone drew a revolver from his pocket; he firedand killed one of his assailants, who fell to the ground. I was sofrightened that I crouched on the staircase and threw my apron overmy head that I might not see the blood run. An instant later MonsieurGevrol arrived with his men; they forced open the door, and behold--"

The Widow Chupin here stopped short. These wretched old women, who havetrafficked in every sort of vice, and who have tasted every disgrace, at times attain a perfection of hypocrisy calculated to deceive the mostsubtle penetration. Any one unacquainted with the antecedents of thelandlady of the Poivriere would certainly have been impressed by herapparent candor, so skillfully did she affect a display of frankness, surprise, and fear. Her expression would have been simply perfect, hadit not been for her eyes, her small gray eyes, as restless as those of acaged animal, and gleaming at intervals with craftiness and cunning. 

There she stood, mentally rejoicing at the success of her narrative, forshe was convinced that the magistrate placed implicit confidence in herrevelations, although during her recital, delivered, by the way, withconjurer-like volubility, not a muscle of M. Segmuller's face hadbetrayed what was passing in his mind. When she paused, out of breath, he rose from his seat, and without a word approached his clerk toinspect the notes taken during the earlier part of the examination. 

From the corner where he was quietly seated, Lecoq did not ceasewatching the prisoner. "She thinks that it's all over, " he muttered tohimself; "she fancies that her deposition is accepted without question. "

If such were, indeed, the widow's opinion, she was soon to beundeceived; for, after addressing a few low-spoken words to the smilingGoguet, M. Segmuller took a seat near the fireplace, convinced that themoment had now come to abandon defensive tactics, and open fire on theenemy's position. 

"So, Widow Chupin, " he began, "you tell us that you didn't remain for asingle moment with the people who came into your shop that evening!"

"Not a moment. "

"They came in and ordered what they wanted; you waited on them, and thenleft them to themselves?"

"Yes, my good sir. "

"It seems to me impossible that you didn't overhear some words of theirconversation. What were they talking about?"

"I am not in the habit of playing spy over my customers. "

"Didn't you hear anything?"

"Nothing at all. "

The magistrate shrugged his shoulders with an air of commiseration. "Inother words, " he remarked, "you refuse to inform justice--"

"Oh, my good sir!"

"Allow me to finish. All these improbable stories about leaving the shopand mending your son's clothes in your bedroom are so many inventions. You have concocted them so as to be able to say to me: 'I didn't seeanything; I didn't hear anything. ' If such is your system of defense, I warn you that it will be impossible for you to maintain it, and I mayadd that it would not be admitted by any tribunal. "

"It is not a system of defense; it is the truth. "

M. Segmuller seemed to reflect for a moment; then, suddenly, heexclaimed: "Then you have nothing to tell me about this miserableassassin?"

"But he is not an assassin, my good sir. "

"What do you mean by such an assertion?"

"I mean that he only killed the others in protecting himself. Theypicked a quarrel with him; he was alone against three, and saw veryplainly that he could expect no mercy from brigands who--"

The color rose to the Widow Chupin's cheeks, and she suddenly checkedherself, greatly embarrassed, and evidently regretting that she hadnot bridled her tongue. It is true she might reasonably hope, that themagistrate had imperfectly heard her words, and had failed to seizetheir full purport, for two or three red-hot coals having fallen fromthe grate on the hearth, he had taken up the tongs, and seemed to beengrossed in the task of artistically arranging the fire. 

"Who can tell me--who can prove to me that, on the contrary, it was notthis man who first attacked the others?" he murmured, thoughtfully. 

"I can, " stoutly declared the widow, already forgetful of her prudenthesitation, "I can swear it. "

M. Segmuller looked up, intense astonishment written upon his face. "Howcan you know that?" he said slowly. "How can you swear it? You were inyour bedroom when the quarrel began. "

Silent and motionless in his corner, Lecoq was inwardly jubilant. Thiswas a most happy result, he thought, but a few questions more, and theold woman would be obliged to contradict herself. What she had alreadysaid sufficed to show that she must have a secret interest in thematter, or else she would never have been so imprudently earnest indefending the prisoner. 

"However, you have probably been led to this conclusion by yourknowledge of the murderer's character, " remarked M. Segmuller, "you areapparently well acquainted with him. "

"Oh, I had never set eyes on him before that evening. "

"But he must have been in your establishment before?"

"Never in his life. "

"Oh, oh! Then how do you explain that on entering the shop while youwere upstairs, this unknown person--this stranger--should have calledout: 'Here, old woman!' Did he merely guess that the establishment waskept by a woman; and that this woman was no longer young?"

"He did not say that. "

"Reflect a moment; you, yourself just told me so. "

"Oh, I didn't say that, I'm sure, my good sir. "

"Yes, you did, and I will prove it by having your evidence read. Goguet, read the passage, if you please. "

The smiling clerk looked back through his minutes and then, in hisclearest voice, he read these words, taken down as they fell from theWidow Chupin's lips: "I had been upstairs about half an hour, when Iheard some one below call out 'Eh! old woman. ' So I went down, " etc. , etc. 

"Are you convinced?" asked M. Segmuller. 

The old offender's assurance was sensibly diminished by this proofof her prevarication. However, instead of discussing the subject anyfurther, the magistrate glided over it as if he did not attach muchimportance to the incident. 

"And the other men, " he resumed, "those who were killed: did you knowthem?"

"No, good sir, no more than I knew Adam and Eve. "

"And were you not surprised to see three men utterly unknown to you, andaccompanied by two women, enter your establishment?"

"Sometimes chance--"

"Come! you do not think of what you are saying. It was not chance thatbrought these customers, in the middle of the night, to a wine-shopwith a reputation like yours--an establishment situated far from anyfrequented route in the midst of a desolate waste. "

"I'm not a sorceress; I say what I think. "

"Then you did not even know the youngest of the victims, the man who wasattired as a soldier, he who was named Gustave?"

"Not at all. "

M. Segmuller noted the intonation of this response, and then slowlyadded: "But you must have heard of one of Gustave's friends, a mancalled Lacheneur?"

On hearing this name, the landlady of the Poivriere became visiblyembarrassed, and it was in an altered voice that she stammered:"Lacheneur! Lacheneur! no, I have never heard that name mentioned. "

Still despite her denial, the effect of M. Segmuller's remark wasevident, and Lecoq secretly vowed that he would find this Lacheneur, atany cost. Did not the "articles of conviction" comprise a letter sent bythis man to Gustave, and written, so Lecoq had reason to believe, ina cafe on the Boulevard Beaumarchais? With such a clue and a littlepatience, the mysterious Lacheneur might yet be discovered. 

"Now, " continued M. Segmuller, "let us speak of the women whoaccompanied these unfortunate men. What sort of women were they?"

"Oh! women of no account whatever!"

"Were they well dressed?"

"On the contrary, very miserably. "

"Well, give me a description of them. "

"They were tall and powerfully built, and indeed, as it was ShroveSunday, I first of all took them for men in disguise. They had handslike shoulders of mutton, gruff voices, and very black hair. They wereas dark as mulattoes--"

"Enough!" interrupted the magistrate, "I require no further proof ofyour mendacity. These women were short, and one of them was remarkablyfair. "

"I swear to you, my good sir--"

"Do not declare it upon oath. I shall be forced to confront you with anhonest man, who will tell you to your face that you are a liar!"

The widow did not reply, and there was a moment's silence. M. Segmullerdetermined to deal a decisive blow. "Do you also affirm that you hadnothing of a compromising character in the pocket of your apron?" heasked. 

"Nothing--you may have it examined; it was left in the house. "

"Then you still persist in your system, " resumed M. Segmuller. "Believeme, you are wrong. Reflect--it rests with you to go to the Assize Courtas a witness, or an accomplice. "

Although the widow seemed crushed by this unexpected blow, themagistrate did not add another word. Her deposition was read over toher, she signed it, and was then led away. 

M. Segmuller immediately seated himself at his desk, filled up a blankform and handed it to his clerk, saying: "This is an order for thegovernor of the Depot. Tell him to send the supposed murderer here atonce. "

X

If it is difficult to extort a confession from a man interested inpreserving silence and persuaded that no proofs can be produced againsthim, it is a yet more arduous task to make a woman, similarly situated, speak the truth. As they say at the Palais de Justice, one might as welltry to make the devil confess. 

The examination of the Widow Chupin had been conducted with the greatestpossible care by M. Segmuller, who was as skilful in managing hisquestions as a tried general in maneuvering his troops. 

However, all that he had discovered was that the landlady of thePoivriere was conniving with the murderer. The motive of her connivancewas yet unknown, and the murderer's identity still a mystery. Both M. Segmuller and Lecoq were nevertheless of the opinion that the old hagknew everything. "It is almost certain, " remarked the magistrate, "thatshe was acquainted with the people who came to her house--with thewomen, the victims, the murderer--with all of them, in fact. I ampositive as regards that fellow Gustave--I read it in her eyes. I amalso convinced that she knows Lacheneur--the man upon whom the dyingsoldier breathed vengeance--the mysterious personage who evidentlypossesses the key to the enigma. That man must be found. "

"Ah!" replied Lecoq, "and I will find him even if I have to questionevery one of the eleven hundred thousand men who constantly walk thestreets of Paris!"

This was promising so much that the magistrate, despite hispreoccupation, could not repress a smile. 

"If this old woman would only decide to make a clean breast of it at hernext examination!" remarked Lecoq. 

"Yes. But she won't. "

The young detective shook his head despondently. Such was his ownopinion. He did not delude himself with false hopes, and he had noticedbetween the Widow Chupin's eyebrows those furrows which, according tophysiognomists, indicate a senseless, brutish obstinacy. 

"Women never confess, " resumed the magistrate; "and even when theyseemingly resign themselves to such a course they are not sincere. Theyfancy they have discovered some means of misleading their examiner. Onthe contrary, evidence will crush the most obstinate man; he gives upthe struggle, and confesses. Now, a woman scoffs at evidence. Show herthe sun; tell her it's daytime; at once she will close her eyes andsay to you, 'No, it's night. ' Male prisoners plan and combine differentsystems of defense according to their social positions; the women, onthe contrary, have but one system, no matter what may be their conditionin life. They deny everything, persist in their denials even when theproof against them is overwhelming, and then they cry. When I worry theChupin with disagreeable questions, at her next examination, you may besure she will turn her eyes into a fountain of tears. "

In his impatience, M. Segmuller angrily stamped his foot. He had manyweapons in his arsenal; but none strong enough to break a woman's doggedresistance. 

"If I only understood the motive that guides this old hag!" hecontinued. "But not a clue! Who can tell me what powerful interestinduces her to remain silent? Is it her own cause that she is defending?Is she an accomplice? Is it certain that she did not aid the murderer inplanning an ambuscade?"

"Yes, " responded Lecoq, slowly, "yes; this supposition very naturallypresents itself to the mind. But think a moment, sir, such a theorywould prove that the idea we entertained a short time since isaltogether false. If the Widow Chupin is an accomplice, the murderer isnot the person we have supposed him to be; he is simply the man he seemsto be. "

This argument apparently convinced M. Segmuller. "What is your opinion?"he asked. 

The young detective had formed his opinion a long while ago. But howcould he, a humble police agent, venture to express any decided viewswhen the magistrate hesitated? He understood well enough that hisposition necessitated extreme reserve; hence, it was in the most modesttone that he replied: "Might not the pretended drunkard have dazzledMother Chupin's eyes with the prospect of a brilliant reward? Might henot have promised her a considerable sum of money?"

He paused; Goguet, the smiling clerk, had just returned. 

Behind him stood a private of the Garde de Paris who remainedrespectfully on the threshold, his heels in a straight line, his righthand raised to the peak of his shako, and his elbow on a level with hiseyes, in accordance with the regulations. 

"The governor of the Depot, " said the soldier, "sends me to inquire ifhe is to keep the Widow Chupin in solitary confinement; she complainsbitterly about it. "

M. Segmuller reflected for a moment. "Certainly, " he murmured, as ifreplying to an objection made by his own conscience; "certainly, itis an undoubted aggravation of suffering; but if I allow this womanto associate with the other prisoners, she will certainly find someopportunity to communicate with parties outside. This must not be; theinterests of justice and truth must be considered first. " The thoughtembodied in these last words decided him. "Despite her complaints theprisoner must be kept in solitary confinement until further orders, " hesaid. 

The soldier allowed his right hand to fall to his side, he carriedhis right foot three inches behind his left heel, and wheeled around. Goguet, the smiling clerk, then closed the door, and, drawing a largeenvelope from his pocket, handed it to the magistrate. "Here is acommunication from the governor of the Depot, " said he. 

The magistrate broke the seal, and read aloud, as follows:

"I feel compelled to advise M. Segmuller to take every precautionwith the view of assuring his own safety before proceeding with theexamination of the prisoner, May. Since his unsuccessful attempt atsuicide, this prisoner has been in such a state of excitement that wehave been obliged to keep him in a strait-waistcoat. He did not closehis eyes all last night, and the guards who watched him expected everymoment that he would become delirious. However, he did not utter a word. When food was offered him this morning, he resolutely rejected it, andI should not be surprised if it were his intention to starve himselfto death. I have rarely seen a more determined criminal. I think himcapable of any desperate act. "

"Ah!" exclaimed the clerk, whose smile had disappeared, "If I werein your place, sir, I would only let him in here with an escort ofsoldiers. "

"What! you--Goguet, you, an old clerk--make such a proposition! Can itbe that you're frightened?"

"Frightened! No, certainly not; but--"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Lecoq, in a tone that betrayed superlativeconfidence in his own muscles; "Am I not here?"

If M. Segmuller had seated himself at his desk, that article offurniture would naturally have served as a rampart between the prisonerand himself. For purposes of convenience he usually did place himselfbehind it; but after Goguet's display of fear, he would have blushedto have taken the slightest measure of self-protection. Accordingly, he went and sat down by the fireplace--as he had done a few momentspreviously while questioning the Widow Chupin--and then ordered hisdoor-keeper to admit the prisoner alone. He emphasized this word"alone. "

A moment later the door was flung open with a violent jerk, and theprisoner entered, or rather precipitated himself into the room. Goguetturned pale behind his table, and Lecoq advanced a step forward, readyto spring upon the prisoner and pinion him should it be requisite. Butwhen the latter reached the centre of the room, he paused and lookedaround him. "Where is the magistrate?" he inquired, in a hoarse voice. 

"I am the magistrate, " replied M. Segmuller. 

"No, the other one. "

"What other one?"

"The one who came to question me last evening. "

"He has met with an accident. Yesterday, after leaving you, he fell downand broke his leg. "

"Oh!"

"And I am to take his place. "

The prisoner was apparently deaf to the explanation. Excitement hadseemingly given way to stupor. His features, hitherto contracted withanger, now relaxed. He grew pale and tottered, as if about to fall. 

"Compose yourself, " said the magistrate in a benevolent tone; "if youare too weak to remain standing, take a seat. "

Already, with a powerful effort, the man had recovered hisself-possession. A momentary gleam flashed from his eyes. "Many thanksfor your kindness, " he replied, "but this is nothing. I felt a slightsensation of dizziness, but it is over now. "

"Is it long since you have eaten anything?"

"I have eaten nothing since that man"--and so saying he pointed toLecoq--"brought me some bread and wine at the station house. "

"Wouldn't you like to take something?"

"No--and yet--if you would be so kind--I should like a glass of water. "

"Will you not have some wine with it?"

"I should prefer pure water. "

His request was at once complied with. He drained a first glassful ata single draft; the glass was then replenished and he drank again, thistime, however, more slowly. One might have supposed that he was drinkingin life itself. Certainly, when he laid down the empty glass, he seemedquite another man. 

Eighteen out of every twenty criminals who appear before ourinvestigating magistrates come prepared with a more or less completeplan of defense, which they have conceived during their preliminaryconfinement. Innocent or guilty, they have resolved, on playing somepart or other, which they begin to act as soon as they cross thethreshold of the room where the magistrate awaits them. 

The moment they enter his presence, the magistrate needs to bring allhis powers of penetration into play; for such a culprit's first attitudeas surely betrays his plan of defense as an index reveals a book'scontents. In this case, however, M. Segmuller did not think thatappearances were deceitful. It seemed evident to him that the prisonerwas not feigning, but that the excited frenzy which marked his entrancewas as real as his after stupor. 

At all events, there seemed no fear of the danger the governor of theDepot had spoken of, and accordingly M. Segmuller seated himself at hisdesk. Here he felt stronger and more at ease for his back being turnedto the window, his face was half hidden in shadow; and in case of need, he could, by bending over his papers, conceal any sign of surprise ordiscomfiture. 

The prisoner, on the contrary, stood in the full light, and not amovement of his features, not the fluttering of an eyelid could escapethe magistrate's attention. He seemed to have completely recoveredfrom his indisposition; and his features assumed an expression whichindicated either careless indifference, or complete resignation. 

"Do you feel better?" asked M. Segmuller. 

"I feel very well. "

"I hope, " continued the magistrate, paternally, "that in future you willknow how to moderate your excitement. Yesterday you tried to destroyyourself. It would have been another great crime added to many others--acrime which--"

With a hasty movement of the hand, the prisoner interrupted him. "Ihave committed no crime, " said he, in a rough, but no longer threateningvoice. "I was attacked, and I defended myself. Any one has a right to dothat. There were three men against me. It was a great misfortune; andI would give my right hand to repair it; but my conscience does notreproach me--that much!"

The prisoner's "that much, " was a contemptuous snap of his finger andthumb. 

"And yet I've been arrested and treated like an assassin, " he continued. "When I saw myself interred in that living tomb which you call a secretcell, I grew afraid; I lost my senses. I said to myself: 'My boy, they've buried you alive; and it is better to die--to die quickly, if you don't wish to suffer. ' So I tried to strangle myself. My deathwouldn't have caused the slightest sorrow to any one. I have neitherwife nor child depending upon me for support. However, my attempt wasfrustrated. I was bled; and then placed in a strait-waistcoat, as if Iwere a madman. Mad! I really believed I should become so. All nightlong the jailors sat around me, like children amusing themselves bytormenting a chained animal. They watched me, talked about me, andpassed the candle to and fro before my eyes. "

The prisoner talked forcibly, but without any attempt at oratoricaldisplay; there was bitterness but not anger in his tone; in short, hespoke with all the seeming sincerity of a man giving expression to somedeep emotion or conviction. As the magistrate and the detective heardhim speak, they were seized with the same idea. "This man, " theythought, "is very clever; it won't be easy to get the better of him. "

Then, after a moment's reflection, M. Segmuller added aloud: "Thisexplains your first act of despair; but later on, for instance, eventhis morning, you refused to eat the food that was offered you. "

As the prisoner heard this remark, his lowering face suddenlybrightened, he gave a comical wink, and finally burst into a heartylaugh, gay, frank, and sonorous. 

"That, " said he, "is quite another matter. Certainly, I refused all theyoffered me, and now I will tell you why. As I had my hands confined inthe strait-waistcoat, the jailor tried to feed me just as a nurse triesto feed a baby with pap. Now I wasn't going to submit to that, so Iclosed my lips as tightly as I could. Then he tried to force my mouthopen and push the spoon in, just as one might force a sick dog'sjaws apart and pour some medicine down its throat. The deuce takehis impertinence! I tried to bite him: that's the truth, and if I hadsucceeded in getting his finger between my teeth, it would have stayedthere. However, because I wouldn't be fed like a baby, all the prisonofficials raised their hands to heaven in holy horror, and pointed atme, saying: 'What a terrible man! What an awful rascal!'"

The prisoner seemed to thoroughly enjoy the recollection of the scene hehad described, for he now burst into another hearty laugh, to the greatamazement of Lecoq, and the scandal of Goguet, the smiling clerk. 

M. Segmuller also found it difficult to conceal his surprise. "You aretoo reasonable, I hope, " he said, at last, "to attach any blame to thesemen, who, in confining you in a strait-waistcoat, were merely obeyingthe orders of their superior officers with the view of protecting youfrom your own violent passions. "

"Hum!" responded the prisoner, suddenly growing serious. "I do blamethem, however, and if I had one of them in a corner--But, never mind, Ishall get over it. If I know myself aright, I have no more spite in mycomposition than a chicken. "

"Your treatment depends on your own conduct, " rejoined M. Segmuller, "If you will only remain calm, you shan't be put in a strait-waistcoatagain. But you must promise me that you will be quiet and conductyourself properly. "

The murderer sadly shook his head. "I shall be very prudent hereafter, "said he, "but it is terribly hard to stay in prison with nothing to do. If I had some comrades with me, we could laugh and chat, and the timewould slip by; but it is positively horrible to have to remain alone, entirely alone, in that cold, damp cell, where not a sound can beheard. "

The magistrate bent over his desk to make a note. The word "comrades"had attracted his attention, and he proposed to ask the prisoner toexplain it at a later stage of the inquiry. 

"If you are innocent, " he remarked, "you will soon be released: but itis necessary to prove your innocence. "

"What must I do to prove it?"

"Tell the truth, the whole truth: answer my questions honestly withoutreserve. "

"As for that, you may depend upon me. " As he spoke the prisoner liftedhis hand, as if to call upon God to witness his sincerity. 

But M. Segmuller immediately intervened: "Prisoners do not take theoath, " said he. 

"Indeed!" ejaculated the man with an astonished air, "that's strange!"

Although the magistrate had apparently paid but little attention to theprisoner, he had in point of fact carefully noted his attitude, his toneof voice, his looks and gestures. M. Segmuller had, moreover, donehis utmost to set the culprit's mind at ease, to quiet all possiblesuspicion of a trap, and his inspection of the prisoner's person led himto believe that this result had been attained. 

"Now, " said he, "you will give me your attention; and do not forget thatyour liberty depends upon your frankness. What is your name?"

"May. "

"What is your Christian name?"

"I have none. "

"That is impossible. "

"I have been told that already three times since yesterday, " rejoinedthe prisoner impatiently. "And yet it's the truth. If I were a liar, Icould easily tell you that my name was Peter, James, or John. Butlying is not in my line. Really, I have no Christian name. If it were aquestion of surnames, it would be quite another thing. I have had plentyof them. "

"What were they?"

"Let me see--to commence with, when I was with Father Fougasse, I wascalled Affiloir, because you see--"

"Who was this Father Fougasse?"

"The great wild beast tamer, sir. Ah! he could boast of a menagerieand no mistake! Lions, tigers, and bears, serpents as big round as yourthigh, parrakeets of every color under the sun. Ah! it was a wonderfulcollection. But unfortunately--"

Was the man jesting, or was he in earnest? It was so hard to decide, that M. Segmuller and Lecoq were equally in doubt. As for Goguet, thesmiling clerk, he chuckled to himself as his pen ran over the paper. 

"Enough, " interrupted the magistrate. "How old are you?"

"Forty-four or forty-five years of age. "

"Where were you born?"

"In Brittany, probably. "

M. Segmuller thought he could detect a hidden vein of irony in thisreply. 

"I warn you, " said he, severely, "that if you go on in this way yourchances of recovering your liberty will be greatly compromised. Each ofyour answers is a breach of propriety. "

As the supposed murderer heard these words, an expression of mingleddistress and anxiety was apparent in his face. "Ah! I meant no offense, sir, " he sighed. "You questioned me, and I replied. You will see thatI have spoken the truth, if you will allow me to recount the history ofthe whole affair. "

"When the prisoner speaks, the prosecution is enlightened, " so runs anold proverb frequently quoted at the Palais de Justice. It does, indeed, seem almost impossible for a culprit to say more than a few words in aninvestigating magistrate's presence, without betraying his intentions orhis thoughts; without, in short, revealing more or less of the secret heis endeavoring to conceal. All criminals, even the most simple-minded, understand this, and those who are shrewd prove remarkably reticent. Confining themselves to the few facts upon which they have founded theirdefense, they are careful not to travel any further unless absolutelycompelled to do so, and even then they only speak with the utmostcaution. When questioned, they reply, of course, but always briefly; andthey are very sparing of details. 

In the present instance, however, the prisoner was prodigal of words. Hedid not seem to think that there was any danger of his being the mediumof accomplishing his own decapitation. He did not hesitate like thosewho are afraid of misplacing a word of the romance they are substitutingfor the truth. Under other circumstances, this fact would have been astrong argument in his favor. 

"You may tell your own story, then, " said M. Segmuller in answer to theprisoner's indirect request. 

The presumed murderer did not try to hide the satisfaction heexperienced at thus being allowed to plead his own cause, in his ownway. His eyes sparkled and his nostrils dilated as if with pleasure. Hesat himself dawn, threw his head back, passed his tongue over his lipsas if to moisten them, and said: "Am I to understand that you wish tohear my history?"

"Yes. "

"Then you must know that one day about forty-five years ago, FatherTringlot, the manager of a traveling acrobatic company, was goingfrom Guingamp to Saint Brieuc, in Brittany. He had with him two largevehicles containing his wife, the necessary theatrical paraphernalia, and the members of the company. Well, soon after passing Chatelaudren, he perceived something white lying by the roadside, near the edge of aditch. 'I must go and see what that is, ' he said to his wife. He stoppedthe horses, alighted from the vehicle he was in, went to the ditch, picked up the object he had noticed, and uttered a cry of surprise. Youwill ask me what he had found? Ah! good heavens! A mere trifle. He hadfound your humble servant, then about six months old. "

With these last words, the prisoner made a low bow to his audience. 

"Naturally, Father Tringlot carried me to his wife. She was akind-hearted woman. She took me, examined me, fed me, and said: 'He's astrong, healthy child; and we'll keep him since his mother has been sowicked as to abandon him by the roadside. I will teach him; and in fiveor six years he will be a credit to us. ' They then asked each other whatname they should give me, and as it happened to be the first day of May, they decided to call me after the month, and so it happens that May hasbeen my name from that day to this. "

The prisoner paused again and looked from one to another of hislisteners, as if seeking some sign of approval. None being forthcoming, he proceeded with his story. 

"Father Tringlot was an uneducated man, entirely ignorant of the law. Hedid not inform the authorities that he had found a child, and, for thisreason, although I was living, I did not legally exist, for, to havea legal existence it is necessary that one's name, parentage, andbirthplace should figure upon a municipal register. 

"When I grew older, I rather congratulated myself on Father Tringlot'sneglect. 'May, my boy, ' said I, 'you are not put down on any governmentregister, consequently there's no fear of your ever being drawn as asoldier. ' I had a horror of military service, and a positive dread ofbullets and cannon balls. Later on, when I had passed the proper age forthe conscription, a lawyer told me that I should get into all kinds oftrouble if I sought a place on the civil register so late in the day;and so I decided to exist surreptitiously. And this is why I have noChristian name, and why I can't exactly say where I was born. "

If truth has any particular accent of its own, as moralists haveasserted, the murderer had found that accent. Voice, gesture, glance, expression, all were in accord; not a word of his long story had rungfalse. 

"Now, " said M. Segmuller, coldly, "what are your means of subsistence?"

By the prisoner's discomfited mien one might have supposed that hehad expected to see the prison doors fly open at the conclusion of hisnarrative. "I have a profession, " he replied plaintively. "The one thatMother Tringlot taught me. I subsist by its practise; and I have livedby it in France and other countries. "

The magistrate thought he had found a flaw in the prisoner's armor. "Yousay you have lived in foreign countries?" he inquired. 

"Yes; during the seventeen years that I was with M. Simpson's company, Itraveled most of the time in England and Germany. "

"Then you are a gymnast and an athlete. How is it that your hands are sowhite and soft?"

Far from being embarrassed, the prisoner raised his hands from hislap and examined them with evident complacency. "It is true they arepretty, " said he, "but this is because I take good care of them andscarcely use them. "

"Do they pay you, then, for doing nothing?"

"Ah, no, indeed! But, sir, my duty consists in speaking to the public, in turning a compliment, in making things pass off pleasantly, as thesaying is; and, without boasting, I flatter myself that I have a certainknack--"

M. Segmuller stroked his chin, according to his habit whenever heconsidered that a prisoner had committed some grave blunder. "In thatcase, " said he, "will you give me a specimen of your talent?"

"Ah, ha!" laughed the prisoner, evidently supposing this to be a jest onthe part of the magistrate. "Ah, ha!"

"Obey me, if you please, " insisted M. Segmuller. 

The supposed murderer made no objection. His face at once assumed adifferent expression, his features wearing a mingled air of impudence, conceit, and irony. He caught up a ruler that was lying on themagistrate's desk, and, flourishing it wildly, began as follows, in ashrill falsetto voice: "Silence, music! And you, big drum, hold yourpeace! Now is the hour, now is the moment, ladies and gentlemen, towitness the grand, unique performance of these great artists, unequaledin the world for their feats upon the trapeze and the tight-rope, and ininnumerable other exercises of grace, suppleness, and strength!"

"That is sufficient, " interrupted the magistrate. "You can speak likethat in France; but what do you say in Germany?"

"Of course, I use the language of that country. "

"Let me hear, then!" retorted M. Segmuller, whose mother-tongue wasGerman. 

The prisoner ceased his mocking manner, assumed an air of comicalimportance, and without the slightest hesitation began to speak asfollows, in very emphatic tones: "Mit Be-willigung der hochloeblichenObrigkeit, wird heute, vor hiesiger ehrenwerthen Burgerschaft, zumerstenmal aufgefuhrt--Genovesa, oder--"

This opening of the prisoner's German harangue may be thus rendered:"With the permission of the local authorities there will now bepresented before the honorable citizens, for the first time--Genevieve, or the--"

"Enough, " said the magistrate, harshly. He rose, perhaps to conceal hischagrin, and added: "We will send for an interpreter to tell us whetheryou speak English as fluently. "

On hearing these words, Lecoq modestly stepped forward. "I understandEnglish, " said he. 

"Very well. You hear, prisoner?"

But the man was already transformed. British gravity and apathy werewritten upon his features; his gestures were stiff and constrained, and in the most ponderous tones he exclaimed: "Walk up! ladies andgentlemen, walk up! Long life to the queen and to the honorable mayorof this town! No country, England excepted--our glorious England!--couldproduce such a marvel, such a paragon--" For a minute or two longer hecontinued in the same strain. 

M. Segmuller was leaning upon his desk, his face hidden by his hands. Lecoq, standing in front of the prisoner, could not conceal hisastonishment. Goguet, the smiling clerk, alone found the scene amusing. 

XI

The governor of the Depot, a functionary who had gained the reputationof an oracle by twenty years' experience in prisons and withprisoners--a man whom it was most difficult to deceive--had advised themagistrate to surround himself with every precaution before examiningthe prisoner, May. 

And yet this man, characterized as a most dangerous criminal, and thevery announcement of whose coming had made the clerk turn pale, hadproved to be a practical, harmless, and jovial philosopher, vain of hiseloquence, a bohemian whose existence depended upon his ability to turna compliment; in short, a somewhat erratic genius. 

This was certainly strange, but the seeming contradiction did not causeM. Segmuller to abandon the theory propounded by Lecoq. On the contrary, he was more than ever convinced of its truth. If he remained silent, with his elbows leaning on the desk, and his hands clasped over hiseyes, it was only that he might gain time for reflection. 

The prisoner's attitude and manner were remarkable. When his Englishharangue was finished, he remained standing in the centre of the room, ahalf-pleased, half-anxious expression on his face. Still, he was as muchat ease as if he had been on the platform outside some stroller's booth, where, if one could believe his story, he had passed the greater part ofhis life. It was in vain that the magistrate sought for some indicationof weakness on his features, which in their mobility were moreenigmatical than the lineaments of the Sphinx. 

Thus far, M. Segmuller had been worsted in the encounter. It is true, however, that he had not as yet ventured on any direct attack, nor hadhe made use of any of the weapons which Lecoq had forged for his use. Still he was none the less annoyed at his defeat, as it was easy to seeby the sharp manner in which he raised his head after a few moments'silence. "I see that you speak three European languages correctly, " saidhe. "It is a rare talent. "

The prisoner bowed, and smiled complacently. "Still that does notestablish your identity, " continued the magistrate. "Have you anyacquaintances in Paris? Can you indicate any respectable person who willvouch for the truth of this story?"

"Ah! sir, it is seventeen years since I left France. "

"That is unfortunate, but the prosecution can not content itself withsuch an explanation. What about your last employer, M. Simpson? Who ishe?"

"M. Simpson is a rich man, " replied the prisoner, rather coldly, "worthmore than two hundred thousand francs, and honest besides. In Germany hetraveled with a show of marionettes, and in England with a collection ofphenomena to suit the tastes of that country. "

"Very well! Then this millionaire could testify in your favor; it wouldbe easy to find him, I suppose?"

"Certainly, " responded May, emphatically. "M. Simpson would willinglydo me this favor. It would not be difficult for me to find him, only itwould require considerable time. "

"Why?"

"Because at the present moment he must be on his way to America. It wason account of this journey that I left his company--I detest the ocean. "

A moment previously Lecoq's anxiety had been so intense that hisheart almost stopped beating; on hearing these last words, however, he regained all his self-possession. As for the magistrate, he merelygreeted the murderer's reply with a brief but significant ejaculation. 

"When I say that he is on his way, " resumed the prisoner, "I may bemistaken. He may not have started yet, though he had certainly made allhis arrangements before we separated. "

"What ship was he to sail by?"

"He did not tell me. "

"Where was he when you left him?"

"At Leipsic. "

"When was this?"

"Last Wednesday. "

M. Segmuller shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. "So you say you werein Leipsic on Wednesday? How long have you been in Paris?"

"Since Sunday afternoon, at four o'clock. "

"It will be necessary to prove that. "

Judging by the murderer's contracted brow it might be conjecturedthat he was making a strenuous effort to remember something. He castquestioning glances first toward the ceiling and then toward the floor, scratching his head and tapping his foot in evident perplexity. "How canI prove it--how?" he murmured. 

The magistrate did not appear disposed to wait. "Let me assist you, "said he. "The people at the inn where you boarded while in Leipsic mustremember you. "

"We did not stop at an inn. "

"Where did you eat and sleep, then?"

"In M. Simpson's large traveling-carriage; it had been sold, but he wasnot to give it up until he reached the port he was to sail from. "

"What port was that?"

"I don't know. "

At this reply Lecoq, who had less experience than the magistrate in theart of concealing one's impressions, could not help rubbing his handswith satisfaction. The prisoner was plainly convicted of falsehood, indeed driven into a corner. 

"So you have only your own word to offer in support of this story?"inquired M. Segmuller. 

"Wait a moment, " said the prisoner, extending his arm as if to clutch ata still vague inspiration--"wait a moment. When I arrived in Paris I hadwith me a trunk containing my clothes. The linen is all marked with thefirst letter of my name, and besides some ordinary coats and trousers, there were a couple of costumes I used to wear when I appeared inpublic. "

"Well, what have you done with all these things?"

"When I arrived in Paris, I took the trunk to a hotel, close by theNorthern Railway Station--"

"Go on. Tell us the name of this hotel, " said M. Segmuller, perceivingthat the prisoner had stopped short, evidently embarrassed. 

"That's just what I'm trying to recollect. I've forgotten it. But Ihaven't forgotten the house. I fancy I can see it now; and, if some onewould only take me to the neighborhood, I should certainly recognizeit. The people at the hotel would know me, and, besides, my trunk wouldprove the truth of what I've told you. "

On hearing this statement, Lecoq mentally resolved to make a tour ofinvestigation through the various hotels surrounding the Gare du Nord. 

"Very well, " retorted the magistrate. "Perhaps we will do as yourequest. Now, there are two questions I desire to ask. If you arrivedin Paris at four o'clock in the afternoon, how did it happen that bymidnight of the same day you had discovered the Poivriere, which ismerely frequented by suspicious characters, and is situated in such alonely spot that it would be impossible to find it at night-time, if onewere not familiar with the surrounding localities? In the second place, how does it happen, if you possess such clothing as you describe, thatyou are so poorly dressed?"

The prisoner smiled at these questions. "I can easily explain that, " hereplied. "One's clothes are soon spoiled when one travels third-class, so on leaving Leipsic I put on the worst things I had. When I arrivedhere, and felt my feet on the pavements of Paris, I went literally wildwith delight. I acted like a fool. I had some money in my pocket--it wasShrove Sunday--and my only thought was to make a night of it. I did notthink of changing my clothes. As I had formerly been in the habit ofamusing myself round about the Barriere d'Italie, I hastened there andentered a wine-shop. While I was eating a morsel, two men came in andbegan talking about spending the night at a ball at the Rainbow. Iasked them to take me with them; they agreed, I paid their bills, andwe started. But soon after our arrival there these young men left meand joined the dancers. It was not long before I grew weary of merelylooking on. Rather disappointed, I left the inn, and being foolishenough not to ask my way, I wandered on till I lost myself, whiletraversing a tract of unoccupied land. I was about to go back, when Isaw a light in the distance. I walked straight toward it, and reachedthat cursed hovel. "

"What happened then?"

"Oh! I went in; called for some one. A woman came downstairs, and Iasked her for a glass of brandy. When she brought it, I sat down andlighted a cigar. Then I looked about me. The interior was almost enoughto frighten one. Three men and two women were drinking and chatting inlow tones at another table. My face did not seem to suit them. One ofthem got up, came toward me, and said: 'You are a police agent; you'vecome here to play the spy; that's very plain. ' I answered that I wasn'ta police agent. He replied that I was. I again declared that I wasn't. In short, he swore that he was sure of it, and that my beard was false. So saying, he caught hold of my beard and pulled it. This made me mad. Ijumped up, and with a blow of my fist I felled him to the ground. Inan instant all the others were upon me! I had my revolver--you know therest. "

"And while all this was going on what were the two women doing?"

"Ah! I was too busy to pay any attention to them. They disappeared!"

"But you saw them when you entered the place--what were they like?"

"Oh! they were big, ugly creatures, as tall as grenadiers, and as darkas moles!"

Between plausible falsehood, and improbable truth, justice--humanjustice, and therefore liable to error--is compelled to decide as bestit can. For the past hour M. Segmuller had not been free from mentaldisquietude. But all his doubts vanished when he heard the prisonerdeclare that the two women were tall and dark. If he had said: "Thewomen were fair, " M. Segmuller would not have known what to believe, butin the magistrate's opinion the audacious falsehood he had just heardproved that there was a perfect understanding between the supposedmurderer and Widow Chupin. 

Certainly, M. Segmuller's satisfaction was great; but his face did notbetray it. It was of the utmost importance that the prisoner shouldbelieve that he had succeeded in deceiving his examiner. "You mustunderstand how necessary it is to find these women, " said the magistratekindly. 

"If their testimony corresponds with your allegations, your innocencewill be proved conclusively. "

"Yes, I understand that; but how can I put my hand upon them?"

"The police can assist you--our agents are always at the serviceof prisoners who desire to make use of them in establishing theirinnocence. Did you make any observations which might aid in thediscovery of these women?"

Lecoq, whose eyes never wandered from the prisoner's face, fancied thathe saw the faint shadow of a smile on the man's lips. 

"I remarked nothing, " said the prisoner coldly. 

M. Segmuller had opened the drawer of his desk a moment before. Henow drew from it the earring which had been found on the scene of thetragedy, and handing it abruptly to the prisoner, he asked: "So youdidn't notice this in the ear of one of the women?"

The prisoner's imperturbable coolness of demeanor did not forsake him. He took the jewel in his hand, examined it attentively, held it up tothe light, admired its brilliant scintillations, and said: "It is a veryhandsome stone, but I didn't notice it. "

"This stone, " remarked the magistrate, "is a diamond. "

"Ah!"

"Yes; and worth several thousand francs. "

"So much as that!"

This exclamation may have been in accordance with the spirit of the partassumed by the prisoner; though, at the same time, its simplicitywas undoubtedly far-fetched. It was strange that a nomad, such as themurderer pretended to have been, acquainted with most of the countriesand capitals of Europe, should have displayed this astonishment onlearning the value of a diamond. Still, M. Segmuller did not seem tonotice the discrepancy. 

"Another thing, " said he. "When you threw down your pistol, crying, 'Come and take me, ' what did you intend to do?"

"I intended to make my escape. "

"In what way?"

"Why, of course, by the door, sir--by--"

"Yes, by the back door, " retorted the magistrate, with freezing irony. "It remains for you to explain how you--you who had just entered thathovel for the first time--could have known of this door's existence. "

For once, in the course of the examination, the prisoner seemedtroubled. For an instant all his assurance forsook him. He evidentlyperceived the danger of his position, and after a considerable effort hecontrived to burst out in a laugh. His laugh was a poor one, however; itrang false, and failed to conceal a sensation of deep anxiety. Growinggradually bolder, he at length exclaimed: "That's nonsense, I had justseen these two women go out by that very door. "

"Excuse me, you declared a minute ago that you did not see these womenleave: that you were too busy to watch their movements. "

"Did I say that?"

"Word for word; the passage shall be shown you. Goguet, find it. "

The clerk at once read the passage referred to, whereupon the prisonerundertook to show that the remark had been misunderstood. He hadnot said--at least, he did not intend to say--that; they had quitemisinterpreted his words. With such remarks did he try to palliate theeffect of his apparent blunders. 

In the mean while, Lecoq was jubilant. "Ah, my fine fellow, " thought he, "you are contradicting yourself--you are in deep water already--you arelost. There's no hope for you. "

The prisoner's situation was indeed not unlike that of a bather, who, unable to swim, imprudently advances into the sea until the water risesabove his chin. He may for a while have preserved his equilibrium, despite the buffeting of the waves, but now he totters, loses hisfooting--another second, and he will sink!

"Enough--enough!" said the magistrate, cutting the prisoner'sembarrassed explanation short. "Now, if you started out merely withthe intention of amusing yourself, how did it happen that you took yourrevolver with you?"

"I had it with me while I was traveling, and did not think of leaving itat the hotel any more than I thought of changing my clothes. "

"Where did you purchase it?"

"It was given me by M. Simpson as a souvenir. "

"Confess that this M. Simpson is a very convenient personage, " said themagistrate coldly. "Still, go on with your story. Only two chambers ofthis murderous weapon were discharged, but three men were killed. Youhave not told me the end of the affair. "

"What's the use?" exclaimed the prisoner, in saddened tones. "Two of myassailants had fallen; the struggle became an equal one. I seized theremaining man, the soldier, round the body, and threw him down. He fellagainst a corner of the table, and did not rise again. "

M. Segmuller had unfolded upon his desk the plan of the Poivriere drawnby Lecoq. "Come here, " he said, addressing the prisoner, "and show me onthis paper the precise spot you and your adversaries occupied. "

May obeyed, and with an assurance of manner a little surprising in a manin his position, he proceeded to explain the drama. "I entered, " saidhe, "by this door, marked C; I seated myself at the table, H, to theleft of the entrance: my assailants occupied the table between thefireplace, F, and the window, B. "

"I must admit, " said the magistrate, "that your assertions fully agreewith the statements of the physicians, who say that one of the shotsmust have been fired about a yard off, and the other about two yardsoff. "

This was a victory for the prisoner, but he only shrugged his shouldersand murmured: "That proves that the physicians knew their business. "

Lecoq was delighted. This part of the prisoner's narrative not merelyagreed with the doctor's statements, but also confirmed his ownresearches. The young detective felt that, had he been the examiner, he would have conducted the investigation in precisely the same way. Accordingly, he thanked heaven that M. Segmuller had supplied the placeof M. D'Escorval. 

"This admitted, " resumed the magistrate, "it remains for you to explaina sentence you uttered when the agent you see here arrested you. "

"What sentence?"

"You exclaimed: 'Ah, it's the Prussians who are coming; I'm lost!' Whatdid you mean by that?"

A fleeting crimson tinge suffused the prisoner's cheek. It was evidentthat if he had anticipated the other questions, and had been preparedfor them, this one, at least, was unexpected. "It's very strange, " saidhe, with ill-disguised embarrassment, "that I should have said such athing!"

"Five persons heard you, " insisted the magistrate. 

The prisoner did not immediately reply. He was evidently trying to gaintime, ransacking in his mind for a plausible explanation. "After all, "he ultimately said, "the thing's quite possible. When I was with M. Simpson, we had with us an old soldier who had belonged to Napoleon'sbody-guard and had fought at Waterloo. I recollect he was alwaysrepeating that phrase. I must have caught the habit from him. "

This explanation, though rather slow in coming, was none the lessingenious. At least, M. Segmuller appeared to be perfectly satisfied. "That's very plausible, " said he; "but there is one circumstance thatpasses my comprehension. Were you freed from your assailants before thepolice entered the place? Answer me, yes or no. "

"Yes. "

"Then why, instead of making your escape by the back door, the existenceof which you had divined, did you remain on the threshold of the doorleading into the back room, with a table before you to serve as abarricade, and your revolver leveled at the police, as if to keep themat bay?"

The prisoner hung his head, and the magistrate had to wait for hisanswer. "I was a fool, " he stammered at last. "I didn't know whetherthese men were police agents or friends of the fellows I had killed. "

"In either case your own interest should have induced you to fly. "

The prisoner remained silent. 

"Ah, well!" resumed M. Segmuller, "let me tell you my opinion. I believeyou designedly and voluntarily exposed yourself to the danger of beingarrested in order to protect the retreat of the two women who had justleft. "

"Why should I have risked my own safety for two hussies I did not evenknow?"

"Excuse me. The prosecution is strongly inclined to believe that youknow these two women very well. "

"I should like to see any one prove that!" So saying, the prisonersmiled sneeringly, but at once changed countenance when the magistrateretorted in a tone of assurance: "I will prove it. "

XII

M. Segmuller certainly wished that a number had been branded uponthe enigmatical prisoner before him. And yet he did not by any meansdespair, and his confidence, exaggerated though it might be, was not atall feigned. He was of opinion that the weakest point of the prisoner'sdefense so far was his pretended ignorance concerning the two women. Heproposed to return to this subject later on. In the mean while, however, there were other matters to be dealt with. 

When he felt that his threat as regards the women had had time toproduce its full effect, the magistrate continued: "So, prisoner, youassert that you were acquainted with none of the persons you met at thePoivriere. "

"I swear it. "

"Have you never had occasion to meet a person called Lacheneur, anindividual whose name is connected with this unfortunate affair?"

"I heard the name for the first time when it was pronounced by the dyingsoldier. Poor fellow! I had just dealt him his death blow; and yet hislast words testified to my innocence. "

This sentimental outburst produced no impression whatever upon themagistrate. "In that case, " said he, "I suppose you are willing toaccept this soldier's statement. "

The man hesitated, as if conscious that he had fallen into a snare, andthat he would be obliged to weigh each answer carefully. "I accept it, "said he at last. "Of course I accept it. "

"Very well, then. This soldier, as you must recollect, wished torevenge himself on Lacheneur, who, by promising him a sum of money, hadinveigled him into a conspiracy. A conspiracy against whom? Evidentlyagainst you; and yet you pretend that you had only arrived in Paristhat evening, and that mere chance brought you to the Poivriere. Can youreconcile such conflicting statements?"

The prisoner had the hardihood to shrug his shoulders disdainfully. "Isee the matter in an entirely different light, " said he. "These peoplewere plotting mischief against I don't know whom--and it was because Iwas in their way that they sought a quarrel with me, without any causewhatever. "

Skilfully as the magistrate had delivered this thrust, it had been asskilfully parried; so skilfully, indeed, that Goguet, the smiling clerk, could not conceal an approving grimace. Besides, on principle, he alwaystook the prisoner's part, in a mild, Platonic way, of course. 

"Let us consider the circumstances that followed your arrest, " resumedM. Segmuller. "Why did you refuse to answer all the questions put toyou?"

A gleam of real or assumed resentment shone in the prisoner's eyes. 

"This examination, " he growled, "will alone suffice to make a culpritout of an innocent man!"

"I advise you, in your own interest, to behave properly. Those whoarrested you observed that you were conversant with all the prisonformalities and rules. "

"Ah! sir, haven't I told you that I have been arrested and put in prisonseveral times--always on account of my papers? I told you the truth, andyou shouldn't taunt me for having done so. "

The prisoner had dropped his mask of careless gaiety, and had assumeda surly, discontented tone. But his troubles were by no means ended;in fact, the battle had only just begun. Laying a tiny linen bag on hisdesk, M. Segmuller asked him if he recognized it. 

"Perfectly! It is the package that the governor of the Depot placed inhis safe. "

The magistrate opened the bag, and poured the dust that it contained onto a sheet of paper. "You are aware, prisoner, " said he, "that this dustcomes from the mud that was sticking to your feet. The police agent whocollected it has been to the station-house where you spent the nightof the murder, and has discovered that the composition of this dust isidentical with that of the floor of the cell you occupied. "

The prisoner listened with gaping mouth. 

"Hence, " continued the magistrate, "it was certainly at thestation-house, and designedly, that you soiled your feet with that mud. In doing so you had an object. "

"I wished--"

"Let me finish. Being determined to keep your identity secret, and toassume the character of a member of the lower classes--of a mountebank, if you please--you reflected that the care you bestow upon your personmight betray you. You foresaw the impression that would be caused whenthe coarse, ill-fitting boots you wore were removed, and the officialsperceived your trim, clean feet, which are as well kept as your hands. Accordingly, what did you do? You poured some of the water that was inthe pitcher in your cell on to the ground and then dabbled your feet inthe mud that had thus been formed. "

During these remarks the prisoner's face wore, by turns, an expressionof anxiety, astonishment, irony, and mirth. When the magistrate hadfinished, he burst into a hearty laugh. 

"So that's the result of twelve or fourteen hours' research, " he atlength exclaimed, turning toward Lecoq. "Ah! Mr. Agent, it's good to besharp, but not so sharp as that. The truth is, that when I was takento the station-house, forty-eight hours--thirty-six of them spent in arailway carriage--had elapsed since I had taken off my boots. My feetwere red and swollen, and they burned like fire. What did I do? I pouredsome water over them. As for your other suspicions, if I have a softwhite skin, it is only because I take care of myself. Besides, asis usual with most men of my profession, I rarely wear anything butslippers on my feet. This is so true that, on leaving Leipsic, I onlyowned a single pair of boots, and that was an old cast-off pair given meby M. Simpson. "

Lecoq struck his chest. "Fool, imbecile, idiot, that I am!" he thought. "He was waiting to be questioned about this circumstance. He is sowonderfully shrewd that, when he saw me take the dust, he divined myintentions; and since then he has managed to concoct this story--aplausible story enough--and one that any jury would believe. "

M. Segmuller was saying the same thing to himself. But he was not sosurprised nor so overcome by the skill the prisoner had displayed infencing with this point. "Let us continue, " said he. "Do you stillpersist in your statements, prisoner?"

"Yes. "

"Very well; then I shall be forced to tell you that what you are sayingis untrue. "

The prisoner's lips trembled visibly, and it was with difficulty that hefaltered: "May my first mouthful of bread strangle me, if I have uttereda single falsehood!"

"A single falsehood! Wait. "

The magistrate drew from the drawer of his desk the molds of thefootprints prepared by Lecoq, and showing them to the murderer, hesaid: "You told me a few minutes ago that the two women were as tallas grenadiers; now, just look at the footprints made by these femalegiants. They were as 'dark as moles, ' you said; a witness will tellyou that one of them was a small, delicate-featured blonde, with anexceedingly sweet voice. " He sought the prisoner's eyes, gazed steadilyinto them, and added slowly: "And this witness is the driver whose cabwas hired in the Rue de Chevaleret by the two fugitives, both short, fair-haired women. "

This sentence fell like a thunderbolt upon the prisoner; he grew pale, tottered, and leaned against the wall for support. 

"Ah! you have told me the truth!" scornfully continued the pitilessmagistrate. "Then, who is this man who was waiting for you while youwere at the Poivriere? Who is this accomplice who, after your arrest, dared to enter the Widow Chupin's den to regain possession of somecompromising object--no doubt a letter--which he knew he would find inthe pocket of the Widow Chupin's apron? Who is this devoted, courageousfriend who feigned drunkenness so effectually that even the police weredeceived, and thoughtlessly placed him in confinement with you? Dare youdeny that you have not arranged your system of defense in concert withhim? Can you affirm that he did not give the Widow Chupin counsel as tothe course she should pursue?"

But already, thanks to his power of self-control, the prisoner hadmastered his agitation. "All this, " said he, in a harsh voice, "is amere invention of the police!"

However faithfully one may describe an examination of this kind, anarrative can convey no more idea of the real scene than a heap of coldashes can give the effect of a glowing fire. One can note down eachword, each ejaculation, but phraseology is powerless to portray therepressed animation, the impassioned movements, the studied reticence, the varied tones of voice, the now bold, now faltering glances, fullof hatred and suspicion, which follow each other in rapid succession, mostly on the prisoner's side, but not entirely so, for although themagistrate may be an adept in the art of concealing his feelings, attimes nature can not be controlled. 

When the prisoner reeled beneath the magistrate's last words, thelatter could not control his feelings. "He yields, " he thought, "hesuccumbs--he is mine!"

But all hope of immediate success vanished when M. Segmuller saw hisredoubtable adversary struggle against his momentary weakness, andarm himself for the fight with renewed, and, if possible, even greaterenergy. The magistrate perceived that it would require more than oneassault to over-come such a stubborn nature. So, in a voice renderedstill more harsh by disappointment, he resumed: "It is plain that youare determined to deny evidence itself. "

The prisoner had recovered all his self-possession. He must havebitterly regretted his weakness, for a fiendish spite glittered in hiseyes. "What evidence!" he asked, frowning. "This romance invented by thepolice is very plausible, I don't deny it; but it seems to me that thetruth is quite as probable. You talk to me about a cabman whose vehiclewas hired by two short, fair-haired women: but who can prove that thesewomen were the same that fled from the Poivriere?"

"The police agent you see here followed the tracks they left across thesnow. "

"Ah! at night-time--across fields intersected by ditches, and up a longstreet--a fine rain falling all the while, and a thaw already beginning!Oh, your story is very probable!"

As he spoke, the murderer extended his arm toward Lecoq, and then, in atone of crushing scorn, he added: "A man must have great confidencein himself, or a wild longing for advancement, to try and get a manguillotined on such evidence as that!"

At these words, Goguet, the smiling clerk, whose pen was rapidly flyingacross the paper, could not help remarking to himself: "The arrow hasentered the bull's-eye this time!"

The comment was not without foundation: for Lecoq was evidently cut tothe quick. Indeed, he was so incensed that, forgetful of his subordinateposition, he sprang to his feet, exclaiming: "This circumstance would beof slight importance if it were not one of a long chain--"

"Be good enough to keep silent, " interrupted the magistrate, who, turning to the prisoner, added: "The court does not utilize the proofsand testimony collected by the police until it has examined and weighedthem. "

"No matter, " murmured the prisoner. "I should like to see thiscab-driver. "

"Have no fear about that; he shall repeat his evidence in yourpresence. "

"Very well. I am satisfied then. I will ask him how he can distinguishpeople's faces when it is as dark as--"

He checked himself, apparently enlightened by a sudden inspiration. 

"How stupid I am!" he exclaimed. "I'm losing my temper about thesepeople when you know all the while who they are. For of course thecabmen drove them home. "

M. Segmuller saw that the prisoner understood him. He perceived, moreover, that the latter was doing all he could to increase the mysterythat enshrouded this essential point of the case--a point upon which theprosecution was particularly anxious to obtain information. 

The prisoner was truly an incomparable comedian, for his lastobservation was made in a tone of remarkable candor, just tinged withsufficient irony to show that he felt he had nothing to fear in thisdirection. 

"If you are consistent with yourself, " remarked the magistrate, "youwill also deny the existence of an accomplice, of a--comrade. "

"What would be the use denying it, since you believe nothing that Isay? Only a moment ago you insinuated that my former employer was animaginary personage; so what need I say about my pretended accomplice?According to your agents, he's at all events a most faithful friend. Indeed, this wonderful being--invented by Monsieur" (with these wordsthe prisoner pointed to Lecoq)--"was seemingly not satisfied at havingonce escaped the police, for, according to your account, he voluntarilyplaced himself in their clutches a second time. You gentlemen pretendthat he conferred first of all with me, and next with the Widow Chupin. How did that happen? Perhaps after removing him from my cell, some ofyour agents obligingly shut him up with the old woman. "

Goguet, the clerk, wrote all this down admiringly. "Here, " thought he, "is a man of brain, who understands his case. He won't need any lawyer'seloquence to put his defense favorably before a jury. "

"And after all, " continued the prisoner, "what are the proofs againstme? The name of Lacheneur faltered by a dying man; a few footprints onsome melting snow; a sleepy cab-driver's declaration; and a vague doubtabout a drunkard's identity. If that is all you have against me, itcertainly doesn't amount to much--"

"Enough!" interrupted M. Segmuller. "Your assurance is perfect now;though a moment ago your embarrassment was most remarkable. What was thecause of it?"

"The cause!" indignantly exclaimed the prisoner, whom this queryhad seemingly enraged; "the cause! Can't you see, sir, that you aretorturing me frightfully, pitilessly! I am an innocent man, and you aretrying to deprive me of my life. You have been turning me this way andthat way for so many hours that I begin to feel as if I were standing onthe guillotine. Each time I open my mouth to speak I ask myself, is itthis answer that will send me to the scaffold? My anxiety and dismaysurprise you, do they? Why, since this examination began, I've felt thecold knife graze my neck at least twenty times. I wouldn't like my worstenemy to be subjected to such torture as this. "

The prisoner's description of his sufferings did not seem at allexaggerated. His hair was saturated with perspiration, and big drops ofsweat rested on his pallid brow, or coursed down his cheeks on to hisbeard. 

"I am not your enemy, " said the magistrate more gently. "A magistrate isneither a prisoner's friend nor enemy, he is simply the friend of truthand the executor of the law. I am not seeking either for an innocent manor for a culprit; I merely wish to arrive at the truth. I must know whoyou are--and I do know--"

"Ah!--if the assertion costs me my life--I'm May and none other. "

"No, you are not. "

"Who am I then? Some great man in disguise? Ah! I wish I were! In thatcase, I should have satisfactory papers to show you; and then you wouldset me free, for you know very well, my good sir, that I am as innocentas you are. "

The magistrate had left his desk, and taken a seat by the fireplacewithin a yard of the prisoner. "Do not insist, " said he. Then, suddenlychanging both manner and tone, he added with the urbanity that a man ofthe world displays when addressing an equal:

"Do me the honor, sir, to believe me gifted with sufficient perspicuityto recognize, under the difficult part you play to such perfection, avery superior gentleman--a man endowed with remarkable talents. "

Lecoq perceived that this sudden change of manner had unnerved theprisoner. He tried to laugh, but his merriment partook somewhat of thenature of a sob, and big tears glistened in his eyes. 

"I will not torture you any longer, " continued the magistrate. "Insubtle reasoning I confess that you have conquered me. However, whenI return to the charge I shall have proofs enough in my possession tocrush you. "

He reflected for a moment, then lingering over each word, he added:"Only do not then expect from me the consideration I have shown youto-day. Justice is human; that is, she is indulgent toward certaincrimes. She has fathomed the depth of the abyss into which blind passionmay hurl even an honest man. To-day I freely offer you any assistancethat will not conflict with my duty. Speak, shall I send this officer ofpolice away? Would you like me to send my clerk out of the room, onan errand?" He said no more, but waited to see the effect of this lasteffort. 

The prisoner darted upon him one of those searching glances that seemto pierce an adversary through. His lips moved; one might have supposedthat he was about to make a revelation. But no; suddenly he crossedhis arms over his chest, and murmured: "You are very frank, sir. Unfortunately for me, I'm only a poor devil, as I've already told you. My name is May, and I earn my living by speaking to the public andturning a compliment. "

"I am forced to yield to your decision, " said the magistrate sadly. "Theclerk will now read the minutes of your examination--listen. "

While Goguet read the evidence aloud, the prisoner listened withoutmaking any remark, but when asked to sign the document, he obstinatelyrefused to do so, fearing, he said, "some hidden treachery. "

A moment afterward the soldiers who had escorted him to the magistrate'sroom conducted him back to the Depot. 

XIII

When the prisoner had gone, M. Segmuller sank back in his armchair, literally exhausted. He was in that state of nervous prostration whichso often follows protracted but fruitless efforts. He had scarcelystrength enough to bathe his burning forehead and gleaming eyes withcool, refreshing water. 

This frightful examination had lasted no less than seven consecutivehours. 

The smiling clerk, who had kept his place at his desk busily writing thewhole while, now rose to his feet, glad of an opportunity to stretch hislimbs and snap his fingers, cramped by holding the pen. Still, he wasnot in the least degree bored. He invariably took a semi-theatricalinterest in the dramas that were daily enacted in his presence; hisexcitement being all the greater owing to the uncertainty that shroudedthe finish of the final act--a finish that only too often belied theordinary rules and deductions of writers for the stage. 

"What a knave!" he exclaimed after vainly waiting for the magistrate orthe detective to express an opinion, "what a rascal!"

M. Segmuller ordinarily put considerable confidence in his clerk's longexperience. He sometimes even went so far as to consult him, doubtlesssomewhat in the same style that Moliere consulted his servant. But, onthis occasion he did not accept his opinion. 

"No, " said he in a thoughtful tone, "that man is not a knave. When Ispoke to him kindly he was really touched; he wept, he hesitated. Icould have sworn that he was about to tell me everything. "

"Ah, he's a man of wonderful power!" observed Lecoq. 

The detective was sincere in his praise. Although the prisoner haddisappointed his plans, and had even insulted him, he could not helpadmiring his shrewdness and courage. He--Lecoq--had prepared himself fora strenuous struggle with this man, and he hoped to conquer in the end. Nevertheless in his secret soul he felt for his adversary, admiring thatsympathy which a "foeman worthy of one's steel" always inspires. 

"What coolness, what courage!" continued the young detective. "Ah!there's no denying it, his system of defense--of absolute denial--is amasterpiece. It is perfect. How well he played that difficult part ofbuffoon! At times I could scarcely restrain my admiration. What is afamous comedian beside that fellow? The greatest actors need the adjunctof stage scenery to support the illusion, whereas this man, entirelyunaided, almost convinced me even against my reason. "

"Do you know what your very appropriate criticism proves?" inquired themagistrate. 

"I am listening, sir. "

"Ah, well! I have arrived at this conclusion--either this man is reallyMay, the stroller, earning his living by paying compliments, as hesays--or else he belongs to the highest rank of society, and not to themiddle classes. It is only in the lowest or in the highest ranks thatyou encounter such grim energy as he has displayed, such scorn of life, as well as such remarkable presence of mind and resolution. A vulgartradesman attracted to the Poivriere by some shameful passion would haveconfessed it long ago. "

"But, sir, this man is surely not the buffoon, May, " replied the youngdetective. 

"No, certainly not, " responded M. Segmuller; "we must, therefore, decideupon some plan of action. " He smiled kindly, and added, in a friendlyvoice: "It was unnecessary to tell you that, Monsieur Lecoq. Quiteunnecessary, since to you belongs the honor of having detected thisfraud. As for myself, I confess, that if I had not been warned inadvance, I should have been the dupe of this clever artist's talent. "

The young detective bowed; a blush of modesty tinged his cheeks, but agleam of pleased vanity sparkled in his eyes. What a difference betweenthis friendly, benevolent magistrate and M. D'Escorval, so taciturn andhaughty. This man, at least, understood, appreciated, and encouragedhim; and it was with a common theory and an equal ardor that they wereabout to devote themselves to a search for the truth. Scarcely had Lecoqallowed these thoughts to flit across his mind than he reflected thathis satisfaction was, after all, a trifle premature, and that successwas still extremely doubtful. With this chilling conclusion, presenceof mind returned. Turning toward the magistrate, he exclaimed: "You willrecollect, sir, that the Widow Chupin mentioned a son of hers, a certainPolyte--"

"Yes. "

"Why not question him? He must know all the frequenters of thePoivriere, and might perhaps give us valuable information regardingGustave, Lacheneur, and the murderer himself. As he is not in solitaryconfinement, he has probably heard of his mother's arrest; but it seemsto me impossible that he should suspect our present perplexity. "

"Ah! you are a hundred times right!" exclaimed the magistrate. "I oughtto have thought of that myself. In his position he can scarcely havebeen tampered with as yet, and I'll have him up here to-morrow morning;I will also question his wife. "

Turning to his clerk, M. Segmuller added: "Quick, Goguet, prepare asummons in the name of the wife of Hippolyte Chupin, and address anorder to the governor of the Depot to produce her husband!"

But night was coming on. It was already too dark to see to write, andaccordingly the clerk rang the bell for lights. Just as the messengerwho brought the lamps turned to leave the room, a rap was heard at thedoor. Immediately afterward the governor of the Depot entered. 

During the past twenty-four hours this worthy functionary had beengreatly perplexed concerning the mysterious prisoner he had placedin secret cell No. 3, and he now came to the magistrate for adviceregarding him. "I come to ask, " said he, "if I am still to retain theprisoner May in solitary confinement?"

"Yes. "

"Although I fear fresh attacks of frenzy, I dislike to confine him inthe strait-jacket again. "

"Leave him free in his cell, " replied M. Segmuller; "and tell thekeepers to watch him well, but to treat him kindly. "

By the provisions of Article 613 of the Code, accused parties are placedin the custody of the government, but the investigating magistrate isallowed to adopt such measures concerning them as he may deem necessaryfor the interest of the prosecution. 

The governor bowed assent to M. Segmuller's instructions, and thenadded: "You have doubtless succeeded in establishing the prisoner'sidentity. "

"Unfortunately, I have not. "

The governor shook his head with a knowing air. "In that case, " said he, "my conjectures were correct. It seems to me evident that this man isa criminal of the worst description--an old offender certainly, and onewho has the strongest interest in concealing his identity. You will findthat you have to deal with a man who has been sentenced to the galleysfor life, and who has managed to escape from Cayenne. "

"Perhaps you are mistaken. "

"Hum! I shall be greatly surprised if such should prove the case. Imust admit that my opinion in this matter is identical with that of M. Gevrol, the most experienced and the most skilful of our inspectors. Iagree with him in thinking that young detectives are often overzealous, and run after fantoms originated in their own brains. "

Lecoq, crimson with wrath, was about to make an angry response when M. Segmuller motioned to him to remain silent. Then with a smile on hisface the magistrate replied to the governor. "Upon my word, my dearfriend, " he said, "the more I study this affair, the more convinced Iam of the correctness of the theory advanced by the 'overzealous'detective. But, after all, I am not infallible, and I shall depend uponyour counsel and assistance. "

"Oh! I have means of verifying my assertion, " interrupted the governor;"and I hope before the end of the next twenty-four hours that ourman will have been identified, either by the police or by one of hisfellow-prisoners. "

With these words he took his leave. Scarcely had he done so than Lecoqsprang to his feet. The young detective was furious. "You see thatGevrol already speaks ill of me; he is jealous. "

"Ah, well! what does that matter to you? If you succeed, you will haveyour revenge. If you are mistaken--then I am mistaken, too. "

Then, as it was already late, M. Segmuller confided to Lecoq's keepingthe various articles the latter had accumulated in support of histheory. He also placed in his hands the diamond earring, the owner ofwhich must be discovered; and the letter signed "Lacheneur, " which hadbeen found in the pocket of the spurious soldier. Having given himfull instructions, he asked him to make his appearance promptly onthe morrow, and then dismissed him, saying: "Now go; and may good luckattend you!"

XIV

Long, narrow, and low of ceiling, having on the one side a row ofwindows looking on to a small courtyard, and on the other a range ofdoors, each with a number on its central panel, thus reminding one ofsome corridor in a second-rate hotel, such is the Galerie d'Instructionat the Palais de Justice whereby admittance is gained into the variousrooms occupied by the investigating magistrates. Even in the daytime, when it is thronged with prisoners, witnesses, and guards, it is a sadand gloomy place. But it is absolutely sinister of aspect at night-time, when deserted, and only dimly lighted by the smoky lamp of a solitaryattendant, waiting for the departure of some magistrate whom businesshas detained later than usual. 

Although Lecoq was not sensitive to such influences, he made haste toreach the staircase and thus escape the echo of his footsteps, whichsounded most drearily in the silence and darkness pervading the gallery. 

Finding an open window on the floor below, he looked out to ascertainthe state of the weather. The temperature was much milder; the snow hadaltogether disappeared, and the pavement was almost dry. A slight haze, illumined by the ruddy glare of the street lamps, hung like a purplemantle over the city. The streets below were full of animation; vehicleswere rolling rapidly to and fro, and the footways were too narrow forthe bustling crowd, which, now that the labors of the day were ended, was hastening homeward or in search of pleasure. 

The sight drew a sigh from the young detective. "And it is in this greatcity, " he murmured, "in the midst of this world of people that I mustdiscover the traces of a person I don't even know! Is it possible toaccomplish such a feat?"

The feeling of despondency that had momentarily surprised him was not, however, of long duration. "Yes, it is possible, " cried an inward voice. "Besides, it must be done; your future depends upon it. Where there's awill, there's a way. " Ten seconds later he was in the street, more thanever inflamed with hope and courage. 

Unfortunately, however, man can only place organs of limited power atthe disposal of his boundless desires; and Lecoq had not taken twentysteps along the streets before he became aware that if the spirit waswilling, the flesh was weak. His limbs trembled, and his head whirled. Nature was asserting her rights; during the last forty-eight hours, the young detective had taken scarcely a moment's rest, and he had, moreover, now passed an entire day without food. 

"Am I going to be ill?" he thought, sinking on to a bench. And hegroaned inwardly on recapitulating all that he wished to do thatevening. 

If he dealt only with the more important matters, must he not at onceascertain the result of Father Absinthe's search after the man whohad recognized one of the victims at the Morgue; test the prisoner'sassertions regarding the box of clothes left at one of the hotelssurrounding the Northern Railway Station; and last, but not the least, must he not procure the address of Polyte Chupin's wife, in order toserve her with the summons to appear before M. Segmuller?

Under the power of urgent necessity, he succeeded in triumphing overhis attack of weakness, and rose, murmuring: "I will go first to thePrefecture and to the Morgue; then I will see. "

But he did not find Father Absinthe at the Prefecture, and no one couldgive any tidings of him. He had not been there at all during theday. Nor could any one indicate, even vaguely, the abode of the WidowChupin's daughter-in-law. 

On the other hand, however, Lecoq met a number of his colleagues, wholaughed and jeered at him unmercifully. "Ah! you are a shrewd fellow!"they said, "it seems that you have just made a wonderful discovery, andit's said you are going to be decorated with the Legion of Honor. "

Gevrol's influence betrayed itself everywhere. The jealous inspectorhad taken pains to inform all his colleagues and subordinates that poorLecoq, crazed by ambition, persisted in declaring that a low, vulgarmurderer trying to escape justice was some great personage in disguise. However, the jeers and taunts of which Lecoq was the object had butlittle effect upon him, and he consoled himself with the reflectionthat, "He laughs best who laughs last. "

If he were restless and anxious as he walked along the Quai desOrfevres, it was because he could not explain Father Absinthe'sprolonged absence, and because he feared that Gevrol, mad with jealousy, might attempt, in some underhand way, to frustrate his, Lecoq's, effortsto arrive at a solution of the mystery. 

At the Morgue the young detective met with no better success than at thePrefecture. After ringing three or four times, one of the keepers openedthe door and informed him that the bodies had not been identified, andthat the old police agent had not been seen since he went away early inthe morning. 

"This is a bad beginning, " thought Lecoq. "I will go and get somedinner--that, perhaps, will change the luck; at all events, I havecertainly earned the bottle of good wine to which I intend to treatmyself. "

It was a happy thought. A hearty meal washed down with a couple ofglasses of Bordeaux sent new courage and energy coursing through hisveins. If he still felt a trifle weary, the sensation of fatigue was atall events greatly diminished when he left the restaurant with a cigarbetween his lips. 

Just at that moment he longed for Father Papillon's trap and sturdysteed. Fortunately, a cab was passing: he hired it, and as eight o'clockwas striking, alighted at the corner of the square in front of theNorthern Railway Station. After a brief glance round, he began hissearch for the hotel where the murderer pretended to have left a box ofclothes. 

It must be understood that he did not present himself in his officialcapacity. Hotel proprietors fight shy of detectives, and Lecoq was awarethat if he proclaimed his calling he would probably learn nothing atall. By brushing back his hair and turning up his coat collar, he made, however, a very considerable alteration in his appearance; and it waswith a marked English accent that he asked the landlords and servants ofvarious hostelries surrounding the station for information concerning a"foreign workman named May. "

He conducted his search with considerable address, but everywhere hereceived the same reply. 

"We don't know such a person; we haven't seen any one answering thedescription you give of him. "

Any other answer would have astonished Lecoq, so strongly persuaded washe that the prisoner had only mentioned the circumstances of a trunkleft at one of these hotels in order to give a semblance of truth to hisnarrative. Nevertheless he continued his investigation. If he noted downin his memorandum book the names of all the hotels which he visited, itwas with a view of making sure of the prisoner's discomfiture when hewas conducted to the neighborhood and asked to prove the truth of hisstory. 

Eventually, Lecoq reached the Hotel de Mariembourg, at the corner ofthe Rue St. Quentin. The house was of modest proportions; but seemedrespectable and well kept. Lecoq pushed open the glass door leading intothe vestibule, and entered the office--a neat, brightly lighted room, where he found a woman standing upon a chair, her face on a level witha large bird cage, covered with a piece of black silk. She was repeatingthree or four German words with great earnestness to the inmate of thecage, and was so engrossed in this occupation that Lecoq had to makeconsiderable noise before he could attract her attention. 

At length she turned her head, and the young detective exclaimed: "Ah!good evening, madame; you are much interested, I see, in teaching yourparrot to talk. "

"It isn't a parrot, " replied the woman, who had not yet descended fromher perch; "but a starling, and I am trying to teach it to say 'Have youbreakfasted?' in German. "

"What! can starlings talk?"

"Yes, sir, as well as you or I, " rejoined the woman, jumping down fromthe chair. 

Just then the bird, as if it had understood the question, cried verydistinctly: "Camille! Where is Camille?"

But Lecoq was too preoccupied to pay any further attention to theincident. "Madame, " he began, "I wish to speak to the proprietor of thishotel. "

"I am the proprietor. "

"Oh! very well. I was expecting a mechanic--from Leipsic--to meet mehere in Paris. To my great surprise, he has not made his appearance; andI came to inquire if he was stopping here. His name is May. "

"May!" repeated the hostess, thoughtfully. "May!"

"He ought to have arrived last Sunday evening. "

The woman's face brightened. "Wait a moment, " said she. "Was thisfriend of yours a middle-aged man, of medium size, of very darkcomplexion--wearing a full beard, and having very bright eyes?"

Lecoq could scarcely conceal his agitation. This was an exactdescription of the supposed murderer. "Yes, " he stammered, "that is avery good portrait of the man. "

"Ah, well! he came here on Shrove Sunday, in the afternoon. He asked fora cheap room, and I showed him one on the fifth floor. The office-boywas not here at the time, and he insisted upon taking his trunk upstairshimself. I offered him some refreshments; but he declined to takeanything, saying that he was in a great hurry; and he went away aftergiving me ten francs as security for the rent. "

"Where is he now?" inquired the young detective. 

"Dear me! that reminds me, " replied the woman. "He has never returned, and I have been rather anxious about him. Paris is such a dangerousplace for strangers! It is true he spoke French as well as you or I;but what of that? Yesterday evening I gave orders that the commissary ofpolice should be informed of the matter. "

"Yesterday--the commissary?"

"Yes. Still, I don't know whether the boy obeyed me. I had forgotten allabout it. Allow me to ring for the boy, and ask him. "

A bucket of iced water falling upon Lecoq's head could not haveastonished him more than did this announcement from the proprietress ofthe Hotel de Mariembourg. Had the prisoner indeed told the truth? Was itpossible? Gevrol and the governor of the prison were right, then, and M. Segmuller and he, Lecoq, were senseless fools, pursuing a fantom. Theseideas flashed rapidly through the young detective's brain. But he hadno time for reflection. The boy who had been summoned now made hisappearance, and proved to be a big overgrown lad with frank, chubbyface. 

"Fritz, " asked his mistress, "did you go to the commissary's office?"

"Yes, madame. "

"What did he say?"

"He was not in; but I spoke to his secretary, M. Casimir, who said youwere not to worry yourself, as the man would no doubt return. "

"But he has not returned. "

The boy rejoined, with a movement of the shoulders that plainly implied:"How can I help that?"

"You hear, sir, " said the hostess, apparently thinking the importunatequestioner would now withdraw. 

Such, however, was not Lecoq's intention, and he did not even move, though he had need of all his self-possession to retain his Englishaccent. "This is very annoying, " said he, "very! I am even more anxiousand undecided than I was before, since I am not certain that this is theman I am seeking for. "

"Unfortunately, sir, I can tell you nothing more, " calmly replied thelandlady. 

Lecoq reflected for a moment, knitting his brows and biting his lips, as if he were trying to discover some means of solving the mystery. Inpoint of fact, he was seeking for some adroit phrase which might leadthis woman to show him the register in which all travelers are compelledto inscribe their full names, profession, and usual residence. At thesame time, however, it was necessary that he should not arouse hersuspicions. 

"But, madame, " said he at last, "can't you remember the name this mangave you? Was it May? Try to recollect if that was the name--May--May!"

"Ah! I have so many things to remember. But now I think of it, and thename must be entered in my book, which, if it would oblige you, I canshow you. It is in the drawer of my writing-table. Whatever can I havedone with my keys?"

And while the hostess, who seemed to possess about as much intelligenceas her starling, was turning the whole office upside down looking forher keys, Lecoq scrutinized her closely. She was about forty years ofage, with an abundance of light hair, and a very fair complexion. She was well preserved--that is to say, she was plump and healthy inappearance; her glance was frank and unembarrassed; her voice was clearand musical, and her manners were pleasing, and entirely free fromaffectation. 

"Ah!" she eventually exclaimed, "I have found those wretched keys atlast. " So saying, she opened her desk, took out the register, laid iton the table, and began turning over the leaves. At last she found thedesired page. 

"Sunday, February 20th, " said she. "Look, sir: here on theseventh line--May--no Christian name--foreign artist--coming fromLeipsic--without papers. "

While Lecoq was examining this record with a dazed air, the womanexclaimed: "Ah! now I can explain how it happened that I forgot theman's name and strange profession--'foreign artist. ' I did not make theentry myself. "

"Who made it, then?"

"The man himself, while I was finding ten francs to give him as changefor the louis he handed me. You can see that the writing is not at alllike that of other entries. "

Lecoq had already noted this circumstance, which seemed to furnish anirrefutable argument in favor of the assertions made by the landladyand the prisoner. "Are you sure, " he asked, "that this is the man'shandwriting?"

In his anxiety he had forgotten his English accent. The woman noticedthis at once, for she drew back, and cast a suspicious glance at thepretended foreigner. "I know what I am saying, " she said, indignantly. "And now this is enough, isn't it?"

Knowing that he had betrayed himself, and thoroughly ashamed of his lackof coolness, Lecoq renounced his English accent altogether. "Excuse me, "he said, "if I ask one more question. Have you this man's trunk in yourpossession?"

"Certainly. "

"You would do me an immense service by showing it to me. "

"Show it to you!" exclaimed the landlady, angrily. "What do you take mefor? What do you want? and who are you?"

"You shall know in half an hour, " replied the young detective, realizingthat further persuasion would be useless. 

He hastily left the room, ran to the Place de Roubaix, jumped into acab, and giving the driver the address of the district commissary ofpolice, promised him a hundred sous over and above the regular fareif he would only make haste. As might have been expected under suchcircumstances, the poor horse fairly flew over the ground. 

Lecoq was fortunate enough to find the commissary at his office. Having given his name, he was immediately ushered into the magistrate'spresence and told his story in a few words. 

"It is really true that they came to inform me of this man'sdisappearance, " said the commissary. "Casimir told me about it thismorning. "

"They--came--to inform--you--" faltered Lecoq. 

"Yes, yesterday; but I have had so much to occupy my time. Now, my man, how can I serve you?"

"Come with me, sir; compel them to show us the trunk, and send for alocksmith to open it. Here is the authority--a search warrant given meby the investigating magistrate to use in case of necessity. Let us loseno time. I have a cab at the door. "

"We will start at once, " said the commissary. 

The driver whipped up his horse once more, and they were soon rapidlyrolling in the direction of the Rue St. Quentin. 

"Now, sir, " said the young detective, "permit me to ask if you know thiswoman who keeps the Hotel de Mariembourg?"

"Yes, indeed, I know her very well. When I was first appointed to thisdistrict, six years ago, I was a bachelor, and for a long while I tookmy meals at her table d'hote. Casimir, my secretary, boards there evennow. "

"And what kind of woman is she?"

"Why, upon my word, my young friend, Madame Milner--for such is hername--is a very respectable widow (highly esteemed by her neighbors) andhaving a very prosperous business. If she remains a widow, it is onlyfrom choice, for she is very prepossessing and has plenty of suitors. "

"Then you don't think her capable of serving, for the sake of a goodround sum, the interests of some wealthy culprit?"

"Have you gone mad?" interrupted the commissary. "What, Madame Milnerperjure herself for the sake of money! Haven't I just told you that sheis an honest woman, and that she is very well off! Besides, she informedme yesterday that this man was missing, so--"

Lecoq made no reply; the driver was pulling up; they had reached theirdestination. 

On seeing her obstinate questioner reappear, accompanied by thecommissary, Madame Milner seemed to understand everything. 

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, "a detective! I might have guessed it!Some crime has been committed; and now my hotel has lost its reputationforever!"

While a messenger was despatched for a locksmith, the commissaryendeavored to reassure and console her, a task of no little difficulty, and which he was some time in accomplishing. 

At last they all went up to the missing man's room, and Lecoq sprangtoward the trunk. Ah! there was no denying it. It had, indeed, comefrom Leipsic; as the labels pasted upon it by the different railroadcompanies only too plainly proved. On being opened, it was, moreover, found to contain the various articles mentioned by the prisoner. 

Lecoq was thunderstruck. When he had seen the commissary lock the trunkand its contents up in a cupboard and take possession of the key, hefelt he could endure nothing more. He left the room with downcast head;and stumbled like a drunken man as he went down the stairs. 

XV

Mardi Gras, or Shrove Tuesday, was very gay that year; that is to say, all places of public resort were crowded. When Lecoq left the Hotel deMariembourg about midnight, the streets were as full as if it had beennoonday, and the cafes were thronged with customers. 

But the young detective had no heart for pleasure. He mingled with thecrowd without seemingly seeing it, and jostled against groups of peoplechatting at the corners, without hearing the imprecations occasionedby his awkwardness. Where was he going? He had no idea. He walkedaimlessly, more disconsolate and desperate than the gambler who hadstaked his last hope with his last louis, and lost. 

"I must yield, " he murmured; "this evidence is conclusive. Mypresumptions were only chimeras; my deductions the playthings of chance!All I can now do is to withdraw, with the least possible damage andridicule, from the false position I have assumed. "

Just as he reached the boulevard, however, a new idea entered his brain, an idea of so startling a kind that he could scarcely restrain a loudexclamation of surprise. "What a fool I am!" cried he, striking hishand violently against his forehead. "Is it possible to be so strong intheory, and yet so ridiculously weak in practise? Ah! I am only a child, a mere novice, disheartened by the slightest obstacle. I meet witha difficulty, and at once I lose all my courage. Now, let me reflectcalmly. What did I tell the judge about this murderer, whose plan ofdefense so puzzles us? Did I not tell him that we had to deal with aman of superior talent--with a man of consummate penetration andexperience--a bold, courageous fellow of imperturbable coolness, whowill do anything to insure the success of his plans? Yes; I told himall that, and yet I give up the game in despair as soon as I meet with asingle circumstance that I can not instantly explain. It is evidentthat such a prisoner would not resort to old, hackneyed, commonplaceexpedients. Time, patience, and research are requisite to find a flaw inhis defense. With such a man as he is, the more appearances are againstmy presumptions, and in favor of his narrative, the more certain it isthat I am right--or else logic is no longer logic. "

At this thought, Lecoq burst into a hearty laugh. "Still, " continued he, "it would perhaps be premature to expose this theory at headquarters inGevrol's presence. He would at once present me with a certificate foradmission into some lunatic asylum. "

The young detective paused. While absorbed in thought, his legs, obeyingan instinctive impulse, had brought him to his lodgings. He rang thebell; the door opened, and he groped his way slowly up to the fourthfloor. He had reached his room, and was about to enter, when some one, whom he could not distinguish in the dark, called out: "Is that you, Monsieur Lecoq?"

"Yes, it's I!" replied the young man, somewhat surprised; "but who areyou?"

"I'm Father Absinthe. "

"Oh! indeed! Well, you are welcome! I didn't recognize your voice--willyou come in?"

They entered the room, and Lecoq lit a candle. Then the young man couldsee his colleague, and, good heavens! he found him in a most pitiablecondition. 

He was as dirty and as bespattered with mud as a lost dog that has beenwandering about in the rain and the mire for a week at the very least. His overcoat bore the traces of frequent contact with damp walls; hishat had lost its form entirely. His eyes wore an anxious look, and hismustache drooped despondently. He spoke, moreover, so strangely that onemight have supposed his mouth was full of sand. 

"Do you bring me bad news?" inquired Lecoq, after a short examination ofhis companion. 

"Yes, bad. "

"The people you were following escaped you, then?"

The old man nodded his head affirmatively. 

"It is unfortunate--very unfortunate!" said Lecoq. "But it is uselessto distress ourselves about it. Don't be so cast down, Father Absinthe. To-morrow, between us, we will repair the damage. "

This friendly encouragement only increased the old man's evidentembarrassment. He blushed, this veteran, as if he had been a schoolgirl, and raising his hands toward heaven, he exclaimed: "Ah, you wretch!didn't I tell you so?"

"Why! what is the matter with you?" inquired Lecoq. 

Father Absinthe made no reply. Approaching a looking-glass that hungagainst the wall, he surveyed himself reproachfully and began to heapcruel insults upon the reflection of his features. 

"You old good-for-nothing!" he exclaimed. "You vile deserter! have youno shame left? You were entrusted with a mission, were you not? And howhave you fulfilled it? You have got drunk, you old wretch, so drunk asto have lost your wits. Ah, you shan't escape punishment this time, foreven if M. Lecoq is indulgent, you shan't taste another drop for a week. Yes, you old sot, you shall suffer for this escapade. "

"Come, come, " said Lecoq, "you can sermonize by and by. Now tell me yourstory. "

"Ah! I am not proud of it, believe me. However, never mind. No doubt youreceived the letter in which I told you I was going to follow the youngmen who seemed to recognize Gustave?"

"Yes, yes--go on!"

"Well, as soon as they entered the cafe, into which I had followed them, they began drinking, probably to drive away their emotion. After thatthey apparently felt hungry. At all events they ordered breakfast. Ifollowed their example. The meal, with coffee and beer afterward, tookup no little time, and indeed a couple of hours had elapsed before theywere ready to pay their bill and go. Good! I supposed they would nowreturn home. Not at all. They walked down the Rue Dauphin; and I sawthem enter another cafe. Five minutes later I glided in after them; andfound them already engaged in a game of billiards. "

At this point Father Absinthe hesitated; it is no easy task to recountone's blunders to the very person who has suffered by them. 

"I seated myself at a little table, " he eventually resumed, "and askedfor a newspaper. I was reading with one eye and watching with the other, when a respectable-looking man entered, and took a seat beside me. Assoon as he had seated himself he asked me to let him have the paper whenI had finished with it. I handed it to him, and then we began talkingabout the weather. At last he proposed a game of bezique. I declined, but we afterward compromised the matter by having a game of piquet. Theyoung men, you understand, were still knocking the balls about. We beganby playing for a glass of brandy each. I won. My adversary asked forhis revenge, and we played two games more. I still kept on winning. He insisted upon another game, and again I won, and still I drank--anddrank again--"

"Go on, go on. "

"Ah! here's the rub. After that I remember nothing--nothing eitherabout the man I had been playing with or the young men. It seems to me, however, that I recollect falling asleep in the cafe, and that a longwhile afterward a waiter came and woke me and told me to go. Then Imust have wandered about along the quays until I came to my senses, and decided to go to your lodgings and wait on the stairs until youreturned. "

To Father Absinthe's great surprise, Lecoq seemed rather thoughtfulthan angry. "What do you think about this chance acquaintance of yours, papa?" asked the young detective. 

"I think he was following me while I was following the others, and thathe entered the cafe with the view of making me drunk. "

"What was he like?"

"Oh, he was a tall, stoutish man, with a broad, red face, and a flatnose; and he was very unpretending and affable in manner. 

"It was he!" exclaimed Lecoq. 

"He! Who?"

"Why, the accomplice--the man whose footprints we discovered--thepretended drunkard--a devil incarnate, who will get the best of us yet, if we don't keep our eyes open. Don't you forget him, papa; and if youever meet him again--"

But Father Absinthe's confession was not ended. Like most devotees, hehad reserved the worst sin for the last. 

"But that's not all, " he resumed; "and as it's best to make a cleanbreast of it, I will tell you that it seems to me this traitor talkedabout the affair at the Poivriere, and that I told him all we haddiscovered, and all we intended to do. "

Lecoq made such a threatening gesture that the old tippler drew back inconsternation. "You wretched man!" exclaimed the young detective, "tobetray our plans to the enemy!"

But his calmness soon returned. If at first sight the evil seemed tobe beyond remedy, on further thought it had a good side after all. Itsufficed to dispel all the doubts that had assailed Lecoq's mind afterhis visit to the Hotel de Mariembourg. 

"However, " quoth our hero, "this is not the time for deliberation. Iam overcome with fatigue; take a mattress from the bed for yourself, myfriend, and let us get a little sleep. "

Lecoq was a man of considerable forethought. Hence, before going to bedhe took good care to wind up his alarm so that it might wake him at sixo'clock. "With that to warn us, " he remarked to his companion, as heblew out the candle, "there need be no fear of our missing the coach. "

He had not, however, made allowance for his own extreme weariness orfor the soporific effect of the alcoholic fumes with which his comrade'sbreath was redolent. When six o'clock struck at the church of St. Eustache, the young detective's alarm resounded faithfully enough, witha loud and protracted whir. Shrill and sonorous as was the sound, itfailed, however, to break the heavy sleep of the two detectives. Theywould indeed, in all probability, have continued slumbering for severalhours longer, if at half-past seven a sturdy fist had not begun torap loudly at the door. With one bound Lecoq was out of bed, amazedat seeing the bright sunlight, and furious at the futility of hisprecautions. 

"Come in!" he cried to his early visitor. He had no enemies to fear, andcould, without danger, sleep with his door unlocked. 

In response to his call, Father Papillon's shrewd face peered into theroom. 

"Ah! it is my worthy coachman!" exclaimed Lecoq. "Is there anythingnew?"

"Excuse me, but it's the old affair that brings me here, " replied oureccentric friend the cabman. "You know--the thirty francs those wretchedwomen paid me. Really, I shan't sleep in peace till you have worked offthe amount by using my vehicle. Our drive yesterday lasted two hours anda half, which, according to the regular fare, would be worth a hundredsous; so you see I've still more than twelve hours at your disposal. "

"That is all nonsense, my friend!"

"Possibly, but I am responsible for it, and if you won't use my cab, I've sworn to spend those twelve hours waiting outside your door. So nowmake up your mind. " He gazed at Lecoq beseechingly, and it was evidentthat a refusal would wound him keenly. 

"Very well, " replied Lecoq, "I will take you for the morning, only Iought to warn you that we are starting on a long journey. "

"Oh, Cocotte's legs may be relied upon. "

"My companion and myself have business in your own neighborhood. It isabsolutely necessary for us to find the Widow Chupin's daughter-in-law;and I hope we shall be able to obtain her address from the policecommissary of the district where the Poivriere is situated. "

"Very well, we will go wherever you wish; I am at your orders. "

A few moments later they were on their way. 

Papillon's features wore an air of self-satisfied pride as, sittingerect on his box, he cracked his whip, and encouraged the nimbleCocotte. The vehicle could not have got over the ground more rapidly ifits driver had been promised a hundred sous' gratuity. 

Father Absinthe alone was sad. He had been forgiven by Lecoq, but hecould not forget that he, an old police agent, had been duped as easilyas if he had been some ignorant provincial. The thought was humiliating, and then in addition he had been fool enough to reveal the secret plansof the prosecution! He knew but too well that this act of folly haddoubled the difficulties of Lecoq's task. 

The long drive in Father Papillon's cab was not a fruitless one. Thesecretary of the commissary of police for the thirteenth arrondissementinformed Lecoq that Polyte Chupin's wife lived with her child, in thesuburbs, in the Rue de la Butte-aux-Cailles. He could not indicatethe precise number, but he described the house and gave them someinformation concerning its occupants. 

The Widow Chupin's daughter-in-law, a native of Auvergne, had beenbitterly punished for preferring a rakish Parisian ragamuffin to one ofthe grimy charcoal-burners of the Puy de Dome. She was hardly more thantwelve years of age when she first came to Paris and obtained employmentin a large factory. After ten years' privation and constant toil, shehad managed to amass, sou by sou, the sum of three thousand francs. Thenher evil genius threw Polyte Chupin across her path. She fell in lovewith this dissipated, selfish rascal; and he married her for the sake ofher little hoard. 

As long as the money lasted, that is, for some three or four months, matters went on pleasantly enough. But as soon as the last franc hadbeen spent, Polyte left his wife, and complacently resumed his formerlife of idleness, thieving, and debauchery. When at times he returnedhome, it was merely with the view of robbing his wife of what littlemoney she might have saved in the mean while; and periodically sheuncomplainingly allowed him to despoil her of the last penny of herearnings. 

Horrible to relate, this unworthy rascal even tried to trade on her goodlooks. Here, however, he met with a strenuous resistance--a resistancewhich excited not merely his own ire, but also the hatred of thevillain's mother--that old hag, the Widow Chupin. The result was thatPolyte's wife was subjected to such incessant cruelty and persecutionthat one night she was forced to fly with only the rags that coveredher. The Chupins--mother and son--believed, perhaps, that starvationwould effect what their horrible threats and insidious counsel hadfailed to accomplish. Their shameful expectations were not, however, gratified. 

In mentioning these facts to Lecoq, the commissary's secretary addedthat they had become widely known, and that the unfortunate creature'sforce of character had won for her general respect. Among those shefrequented, moreover, she was known by the nickname of "Toinon theVirtuous"--a rather vulgar but, at all events, sincere tribute to herworth. 

Grateful for this information, Lecoq returned to the cab. The Rue de laButte-aux-Cailles, whither Papillon was now directed to drive, proved tobe very unlike the Boulevard Malesherbes, and one brief glance sufficedto show that opulence had not here fixed its abode. Luck seemed forthe moment to have turned in Lecoq's favor. At all events, when he andFather Absinthe alighted at the corner of the street, it so happenedthat the very first person the young detective questioned concerning thevirtuous Toinon was well acquainted with her whereabouts. The housein which she resided was pointed out, and Lecoq was instructed to goupstairs to the top floor, and knock at the door in front of him. Withsuch precise directions the two detectives speedily reached MadamePolyte Chupin's abode. 

This proved to be a cold and gloomy attic of medium size, windowless, but provided with a small skylight. A straw pallet, a broken table, two chairs, and a few plain kitchen utensils constituted the soleappointments of this miserable garret. But in spite of the occupant'sevident poverty, everything was neat and clean, and to use a forcibleexpression that fell from Father Absinthe, one could have eaten off thefloor. 

The two detectives entered, and found a woman busily engaged in makinga heavy linen sack. She was seated in the centre of the room, directlyunder the skylight, so that the sun's rays might fall upon her work. Atthe sight of two strangers, she half rose from her chair, surprised, and perhaps a little frightened; but when Lecoq had explained that theydesired a few moments' conversation with her, she gave up her own seat, and drawing the second chair from a corner, invited both detectives tosit down. Lecoq complied, but Father Absinthe declared that he preferredto remain standing. 

With a single glance Lecoq took an inventory of the humble abode, and, so to speak, appraised the woman. She was short, stout, and ofcommonplace appearance. Her forehead was extremely low, being crowned bya forest of coarse, black hair; while the expression of her large, blackeyes, set very close together, recalled the look of patient resignationone so often detects in ill-treated and neglected animals. Possibly, informer days, she might have possessed that fleeting attraction calledthe _beaute du diable_; but now she looked almost as old as her wretchedmother-in-law. Sorrow and privation, excessive toil and ill-treatment, had imparted to her face a livid hue, reddening her eyes and stampingdeep furrows round about her temples. Still, there was an attribute ofnative honesty about her which even the foul atmosphere in which she hadbeen compelled to live had not sufficed to taint. 

Her little boy furnished a striking contrast. He was pale and puny; hiseyes gleamed with a phosphorescent brilliancy; and his hair was of afaded flaxen tint. One little circumstance attracted both detectives'attention. If the mother was attired in an old, thin, faded calicodress, the child was warmly clad in stout woolen material. 

"Madame, you have doubtless heard of a dreadful crime, committed in yourmother-in-law's establishment, " began Lecoq in a soft voice. 

"Alas! yes, sir, " replied Toinon the Virtuous, quickly adding: "But myhusband could not have been implicated in it, since he is in prison. "

Did not this objection, forestalling, as it were, suspicion, betray themost horrible apprehensions?

"Yes, I am aware of that, " replied Lecoq. "Polyte was arrested afortnight ago--"

"Yes, and very unjustly, sir, " replied the neglected wife. "He was ledastray by his companions, wicked, desperate men. He is so weak when hehas taken a glass of wine that they can do whatever they like with him. If he were only left to himself he would not harm a child. You have onlyto look at him--"

As she spoke, the virtuous Toinon turned her red and swollen eyes toa miserable photograph hanging against the wall. This blotchy smudgeportrayed an exceedingly ugly, dissipated-looking young man, afflictedwith a terrible squint, and whose repulsive mouth was partiallyconcealed by a faint mustache. This rake of the barrieres was PolyteChupin. And yet despite his unprepossessing aspect there was nomistaking the fact that this unfortunate woman loved him--had alwaysloved him; besides, he was her husband. 

A moment's silence followed her indication of the portrait--an act whichclearly revealed how deeply she worshiped her persecutor; and duringthis pause the attic door slowly and softly opened. Not of itself, however, for suddenly a man's head peered in. The intruder, whoever hewas, instantly withdrew, uttering as he did so a low exclamation. Thedoor was swiftly closed again; the key--which had been left on theoutside--grated in the lock, and the occupants of the garret could hearhurried steps descending the stairs. 

Lecoq was sitting with his back to the door, and could not, therefore, see the intruder's face. Quickly as he had turned, he had failed to seewho it was: and yet he was far from being surprised at the incident. Intuition explained its meaning. 

"That must have been the accomplice!" he cried. 

Thanks to his position, Father Absinthe had seen the man's face. "Yes, " said he, "yes, it was the same man who made me drink with himyesterday. "

With a bound, both detectives threw themselves against the door, exhausting their strength in vain attempts to open it. It resisted alltheir efforts, for it was of solid oak, having been purchased by thelandlord from some public building in process of demolition, and it was, moreover, furnished with a strong and massive fastening. 

"Help us!" cried Father Absinthe to the woman, who stood petrified withastonishment; "give us a bar, a piece of iron, a nail--anything!"

The younger man was making frantic efforts to push back the bolt, orto force the lock from the wood. He was wild with rage. At last, havingsucceeded in forcing the door open, they dashed out in pursuit of theirmysterious adversary. On reaching the street, they eagerly questionedthe bystanders. Having described the man as best they could, they foundtwo persons who had seen him enter the house of Toinon the Virtuous, anda third who had seen him as he left. Some children who were playing inthe middle of the street added that he had run off in the direction ofthe Rue du Moulin-des-Pres as fast as his legs could carry him. It wasin this street, near the corner of the Rue de la Butte-aux-Cailles, thatLecoq had left old Papillon waiting with the cab. 

"Let us hasten there!" proposed Father Absinthe; "perhaps Papillon cangive us some information. "

But Lecoq shook his head despondently. He would go no further. "It wouldbe of no use, " he said. "He had sufficient presence of mind to turnthe key in the lock, and that saved him. He is at least ten minutes inadvance of us, and we should never overtake him. "

Father Absinthe could not restrain his anger. He looked upon thismysterious accomplice who had so cruelly duped him as a personal enemy, and he would willingly have given a month's pay to be able to lay hishand on his shoulder. Lecoq was quite as angry as his subordinate, andhis vanity was likewise wounded; he felt, however, that coolness anddeliberation were necessary. 

"Yes, " said he thoughtfully, "he's a shrewd and daring fellow--a perfectdemon. He doesn't remain idle. If we are working, he's at work too. Nomatter what side I turn, I find him on the defensive. He foiled you, papa, in your effort to obtain a clue concerning Gustave's identity; andhe made me appear a fool in arranging that little comedy at the Hotel deMariembourg. His diligence has been wonderful. He has hitherto been inadvance of us everywhere, and this fact explains the failures that haveattended all my efforts. Here we arrive before him. But if he came here, it was because he scented danger. Hence, we may hope. Now let us getback and question Polyte's wife. "

Alas! poor Toinon the Virtuous did not understand the affair at all. Shehad remained upstairs, holding her child by the hand, and leaning overthe baluster; her mind in great perplexity and her eyes and ears on thealert. As soon as she perceived the two detectives coming up the stairsagain, she hastened down to meet them. "In the name of heaven, what doesthis all mean?" she asked. "Whatever has happened?"

But Lecoq was not the man to tell his business on a landing, withinquisitive ears all around him, and before he answered Toinon he madeher go up into her own garret, and securely close the door. 

"We started in pursuit of a man who is implicated in the murders at thePoivriere, " he said; "one who came here hoping to find you alone, whowas frightened at seeing us. "

"A murderer!" faltered Toinon, with clasped hands. "What could he wantof me?"

"Who knows? It is very probable that he is one of your husband'sfriends. "

"Oh! sir. "

"Why, did you not tell me just now that Polyte had some very undesirableacquaintances? But don't be alarmed; this does not compromise him in theleast. Besides, you can very easily clear him of all suspicion. "

"How? In what way? Oh, tell me at once. "

"Merely by answering me frankly, and by assisting me to find the guiltyparty. Now, among your husband's friends, don't you know any who mightbe capable of such a deed? Give me the names of his acquaintances. "

The poor woman's hesitation was evident; undoubtedly she had beenpresent at many sinister cabals, and had been threatened with terriblepunishment if she dared to disclose the plans formed by Polyte or hisassociates. 

"You have nothing to fear, " said Lecoq, encouragingly, "and I promiseyou no one shall ever know that you have told me a word. Very probablyyou can tell me nothing more than I know already. I have heard a greatdeal about your former life, and the brutality with which Polyte and hismother have treated you. "

"My husband has never treated me brutally, " said the young woman, indignantly; "besides, that matter would only concern myself. "

"And your mother-in-law?"

"She is, perhaps, a trifle quick-tempered; but in reality she has a goodheart. "

"Then, if you were so happy at the Widow Chupin's house, why did you flyfrom it?"

Toinon the Virtuous turned scarlet to the very roots of her hair. "Ileft for other reasons, " she replied. "There were always a great manydrunken men about the house; and, sometimes, when I was alone, some ofthem tried to carry their pleasantry too far. You may say that I have asolid fist of my own, and that I am quite capable of protecting myself. That's true. But while I was away one day some fellows were wickedenough to make this child drink to such an excess that when I came homeI found him as stiff and cold as if he were dead. It was necessary tofetch a doctor or else--"

She suddenly paused; her eyes dilated. From red she turned livid, and ina hoarse, unnatural voice, she cried: "Toto! wretched child!"

Lecoq looked behind him, and shuddered. He understood everything. Thischild--not yet five years old--had stolen up behind him, and, ferretingin the pockets of his overcoat, had rifled them of their contents. 

"Ah, well--yes!" exclaimed the unfortunate mother, bursting into tears. "That's how it was. Directly the child was out of my sight, they used totake him into town. They took him into the crowded streets, and taughthim to pick people's pockets, and bring them everything he could lay hishands on. If the child was detected they were angry with him and beathim; and if he succeeded they gave him a sou to buy some sweets, andkept what he had taken. "

The luckless Toinon hid her face in her hands, and sobbed in an almostunintelligible voice: "Ah, I did not wish my little one to be a thief. "

But what this poor creature did not tell was that the man who had ledthe child out into the streets, to teach him to steal, was his ownfather, and her husband--the ruffian, Polyte Chupin. The two detectivesplainly understood, however, that such was the case, and the father'scrime was so horrible, and the woman's grief so great, that, familiar asthey were with all the phases of crime, their very hearts were touched. Lecoq's main thought, however, was to shorten this painful scene. Thepoor mother's emotion was a sufficient guarantee of her sincerity. 

"Listen, " said he, with affected harshness. "Two questions only, and then I will leave you. Was there a man named Gustave among thefrequenters of the Poivriere?"

"No, sir, I'm quite sure there wasn't. "

"Very well. But Lacheneur--you must know Lacheneur!"

"Yes, sir; I know him. "

The young police agent could not repress an exclamation of delight. "Atlast, " thought he, "I have a clue that may lead me to the truth. Whatkind of man is he?" he asked with intense anxiety. 

"Oh! he is not at all like the other men who come to drink at mymother-in-law's shop. I have only seen him once; but I remember himperfectly. It was on a Sunday. He was in a cab. He stopped at the cornerof the waste ground and spoke to Polyte. When he went away, my husbandsaid to me: 'Do you see that old man there? He will make all ourfortunes. ' I thought him a very respectable-looking gentleman--"

"That's enough, " interrupted Lecoq. "Now it is necessary for you totell the investigating magistrate all you know about him. I have a cabdownstairs. Take your child with you, if you like; but make haste; come, come quickly!"

XVI

The extreme uncertainty of the result was another attraction for M. Segmuller's investigating mind. Given the magnitude of the difficultiesthat were to be overcome, he rightly considered that if his effortsproved successful, he would have achieved a really wonderful victory. And, assisted by such a man as Lecoq, who had a positive genius for hiscalling, and in whom he recognized a most valuable auxiliary, he reallyfelt confident of ultimate success. 

Even on returning home after the fatiguing labors of the day he did notthink of freeing himself from the burden of responsibility in relationto the business he had on hand, or of driving away care until themorrow. He dined in haste, and as soon as he had swallowed his coffeebegan to study the case with renewed ardor. He had brought from hisoffice a copy of the prisoner's narrative, which he attentively perused, not once or twice, but several times, seeking for some weak point thatmight be attacked with a probability of success. He analyzed everyanswer, and weighed one expression after another, striving, as he didso, to find some flaw through which he might slip a question calculatedto shatter the structure of defense. He worked thus, far into the night, and yet he was on his legs again at an early hour in the morning. Byeight o'clock he was not merely dressed and shaved, he had not merelytaken his matutinal chocolate and arranged his papers, but he wasactually on his way to the Palais de Justice. He had quite forgottenthat his own impatience was not shared by others. 

In point of fact, the Palais de Justice was scarcely awake when hearrived there. The doors had barely opened. The attendants were busysweeping and dusting; or changing their ordinary garments for theirofficial costumes. Some of them standing in the windows of the longdressing room were shaking and brushing the judges' and advocates'gowns; while in the great hall several clerks stood in a group, chaffingeach other while waiting for the arrival of the head registrar and theopening of the investigation offices. 

M. Segmuller thought that he had better begin by consulting the publicprosecutor, but he discovered that this functionary had not yet arrived. Angry and impatient, he proceeded to his own office; and with his eyesfixed on the clock, growled at the slowness of the minute hand. Justafter nine o'clock, Goguet, the smiling clerk, put in an appearance andspeedily learned the kind of humor his master was in. 

"Ah, you've come at last, " gruffly ejaculated M. Segmuller, momentarilyoblivious of the fact that he himself scarcely ever arrived before ten, and that a quarter-past nine was certainly early for his clerk. 

Goguet's curiosity had indeed prompted him to hurry to the Palais;still, although well aware that he did not deserve a reprimand, heendeavored to mumble an excuse--an excuse cut short by M. Segmullerin such unusually harsh tones that for once in a way Goguet's habitualsmile faded from his face. "It's evident, " thought he, "that the wind'sblowing from a bad quarter this morning, " with which reflectionhe philosophically put on his black sleeves and going to his tablepretended to be absorbed in the task of mending his pens and preparinghis paper. 

In the mean while, M. Segmuller who was usually calmness personified, and dignity par excellence, paced restlessly to and fro. At times hewould sit down and then suddenly spring to his feet again, gesticulatingimpatiently as he did so. Indeed, he seemed unable to remain quiet for amoment. 

"The prosecution is evidently making no headway, " thought the clerk. "May's prospects are encouraging. " Owing to the magistrate's harshreception the idea delighted him; and, indeed, letting his rancor havethe upper hand, Goguet actually offered up a prayer that the prisonermight get the better of the fight. 

From half-past nine till ten o'clock M. Segmuller rang for his messengerat least five times, and each time he asked him the same questions: "Areyou sure that M. Lecoq has not been here this morning? Inquire! If hehas not been here he must certainly have sent some one, or else havewritten to me. "

Each time the astonished doorkeeper replied: "No one has been here, andthere is no letter for you. "

Five identical negative answers to the same inquiries only increased themagistrate's wrath and impatience. "It is inconceivable!" he exclaimed. "Here I am upon coals of fire, and that man dares to keep me waiting. Where can he be?"

At last he ordered a messenger to go and see if he could not find Lecoqsomewhere in the neighborhood; perhaps in some restaurant or cafe. "Atall events, he must be found and brought back immediately, " said he. 

When the man had started, M. Segmuller began to recover his composure. "We must not lose valuable time, " he said to his clerk. "I was toexamine the widow Chupin's son. I had better do so now. Go and tell themto bring him to me. Lecoq left the order at the prison. "

In less than a quarter of an hour Polyte entered the room. From head tofoot, from his lofty silk cap to his gaudy colored carpet slippers, he was indeed the original of the portrait upon which poor Toinon theVirtuous had lavished such loving glances. And yet the photograph wasflattering. The lens had failed to convey the expression of low cunningthat distinguished the man's features, the impudence of his leeringsmile, and the mingled cowardice and ferocity of his eyes, which neverlooked another person in the face. Nor could the portrait depict theunwholesome, livid pallor of his skin, the restless blinking of hiseyelids, and the constant movement of his thin lips as he drew themtightly over his short, sharp teeth. There was no mistaking his nature;one glance and he was estimated at his worth. 

When he had answered the preliminary questions, telling the magistratethat he was thirty years of age, and that he had been born in Paris, heassumed a pretentious attitude and waited to see what else was coming. 

But before proceeding with the real matter in hand, M. Segmuller wishedto relieve the complacent scoundrel of some of his insulting assurance. Accordingly, he reminded Polyte, in forcible terms, that his sentencein the affair in which he was now implicated would depend very much uponhis behavior and answers during the present examination. 

Polyte listened with a nonchalant and even ironical air. In fact, thisindirect threat scarcely touched him. Having previously made inquirieshe had ascertained that he could not be condemned to more than sixmonths' imprisonment for the offense for which he had been arrested; andwhat did a month more or less matter to him?

The magistrate, who read this thought in Polyte's eyes, cut his preambleshort. "Justice, " said he, "now requires some information from youconcerning the frequenters of your mother's establishment. "

"There are a great many of them, sir, " answered Polyte in a harsh voice. 

"Do you know one of them named Gustave?"

"No, sir. "

To insist would probably awaken suspicion in Polyte's mind; accordingly, M. Segmuller continued: "You must, however, remember Lacheneur?"

"Lacheneur? No, this is the first time I've heard that name. "

"Take care. The police have means of finding out a great many things. "

The scapegrace did not flinch. "I am telling the truth, sir, " heretorted. "What interest could I possibly have in deceiving you?"

Scarcely had he finished speaking than the door suddenly opened andToinon the Virtuous entered the room, carrying her child in her arms. On perceiving her husband, she uttered a joyful exclamation, and sprangtoward him. But Polyte, stepping back, gave her such a threateningglance that she remained rooted to the spot. 

"It must be an enemy who pretends that I know any one named Lacheneur!"cried the barriere bully. "I should like to kill the person who utteredsuch a falsehood. Yes, kill him; I will never forgive it. "

The messenger whom M. Segmuller had instructed to go in search of Lecoqwas not at all displeased with the errand; for it enabled him to leavehis post and take a pleasant little stroll through the neighborhood. Hefirst of all proceeded to the Prefecture of Police, going the longestway round as a matter of course, but, on reaching his destination, hecould find no one who had seen the young detective. 

Accordingly, M. Segmuller's envoy retraced his steps, and leisurelysauntered through the restaurants, cafes, and wine shops installed inthe vicinity of the Palais de Justice, and dependent on the customersit brought them. Being of a conscientious turn of mind, he enteredeach establishment in succession and meeting now and again variousacquaintances, he felt compelled to proffer and accept numerous glassesof the favorite morning beverage--white wine. Turn which way he would, however, loiter as long as he might, there were still no signs of Lecoq. He was returning in haste, a trifle uneasy on account of the lengthof his absence, when he perceived a cab pull up in front of the Palaisgateway. A second glance, and oh, great good fortune, he saw Lecoq, Father Absinthe, and the virtuous Toinon alight from this very vehicle. His peace of mind at once returned; and it was in a very important andsomewhat husky tone that he delivered the order for Lecoq to follow himwithout a minute's delay. "M. Segmuller has asked for you a number oftimes, " said he, "He has been extremely impatient, and he is in a verybad humor, so you may expect to have your head snapped off in the mostexpeditious manner. "

Lecoq smiled as he went up the stairs. Was he not bringing with him themost potent of justifications? He thought of the agreeable surprise hehad in store for the magistrate, and fancied he could picture the suddenbrightening of that functionary's gloomy face. 

And yet, fate so willed it that the doorkeeper's message and his urgentappeal that Lecoq should not loiter on the way, produced the mostunfortunate results. Believing that M. Segmuller was anxiously waitingfor him, Lecoq saw nothing wrong in opening the door of the magistrate'sroom without previously knocking; and being anxious to justify hisabsence, he yielded, moreover, to the impulse that led him to pushforward the poor woman whose testimony might prove so decisive. When hesaw, however, that the magistrate was not alone, and when he recognizedPolyte Chupin--the original of the photograph--in the man M. Segmullerwas examining, his stupefaction became intense. He instantly perceivedhis mistake and understood its consequences. 

There was only one thing to be done. He must prevent any exchange ofwords between the two. Accordingly, springing toward Toinon and seizingher roughly by the arm, he ordered her to leave the room at once. Butthe poor creature was quite overcome, and trembled like a leaf. Hereyes were fixed upon her unworthy husband, and the happiness she felt atseeing him again shone plainly in her anxious gaze. Just for one second;and then she caught his withering glance and heard his words of menace. Terror-stricken, she staggered back, and then Lecoq seized her aroundthe waist, and, lifting her with his strong arms, carried her out intothe passage. The whole scene had been so brief that M. Segmuller wasstill forming the order for Toinon to be removed from the room, when hefound the door closed again, and himself and Goguet alone with Polyte. 

"Ah, ah!" thought the smiling clerk, in a flutter of delight, "this issomething new. " But as these little diversions never made him forget hisduties, he leaned toward the magistrate and asked: "Shall I take downthe last words the witness uttered?"

"Certainly, " replied M. Segmuller, "and word for word, if you please. "

He paused; the door opened again, this time to admit the magistrate'smessenger, who timidly, and with a rather guilty air, handed his mastera note, and then withdrew. This note, scribbled in pencil by Lecoq on aleaf torn from his memorandum book, gave the magistrate the name ofthe woman who had just entered his room, and recapitulated briefly butclearly the information obtained in the Rue de la Butte-aux-Cailles. 

"That young fellow thinks of everything!" murmured M. Segmuller. Themeaning of the scene that had just occurred was now explained to him. Heunderstood everything. 

He bitterly regretted this unfortunate meeting; at the same time castingthe blame on his own impatience and lack of caution, which, as soon asthe messenger had started in search of Lecoq, had induced him to summonPolyte Chupin. Although he could not conceal from himself the enormousinfluence this seemingly trivial incident might have, still he would notallow himself to be cast down, but prepared to resume his examination ofPolyte Chupin in hopes of yet obtaining the information he desired. 

"Let us proceed, " he said to Polyte, who had not moved since hiswife had been taken from the room, being to all appearances sublimelyindifferent to everything passing around him. To the magistrate'sproposal he carelessly nodded assent. 

"Was that your wife who came in just now?" asked M. Segmuller. 

"Yes. "

"She wished to embrace you, and you repulsed her. "

"I didn't repulse her. "

"You kept her at a distance at all events. If you had a spark ofaffection in your nature, you would at least have looked at your child, which she held out to you. Why did you behave in that manner?"

"It wasn't the time for sentiment. "

"You are not telling the truth. You simply desired to attract herattention, to influence her evidence. "

"I--I influence her evidence! I don't understand you. "

"But for that supposition, your words would have been meaningless?"

"What words?"

The magistrate turned to his clerk: "Goguet, " said he, "read the lastremark you took down. "

In a monotonous voice, the smiling clerk repeated: "I should like tokill the person who dared to say that I knew Lacheneur. "

"Well, then!" insisted M. Segmuller, "what did you mean by that?"

"It's very easy to understand, sir. "

M. Segmuller rose. "Don't prevaricate any longer, " he said. "Youcertainly ordered your wife not to say anything about Lacheneur. That'sevident. Why did you do so? What are you afraid of her telling us?Do you suppose the police are ignorant of your acquaintance withLacheneur--of your conversation with him when he came in a cab to thecorner of the waste ground near your mother's wine-shop; and of thehopes of fortune you based upon his promises? Be guided by me; confesseverything, while there is yet time; and abandon the present coursewhich may lead you into serious danger. One may be an accomplice in moreways than one. "

As these words fell on Polyte's ears, it was evident his impudence andindifference had received a severe shock. He seemed confounded, andhung his head as if thoroughly abashed. Still, he preserved an obstinatesilence; and the magistrate finding that this last thrust had failed toproduce any effect, gave up the fight in despair. He rang the bell, andordered the guard to conduct the witness back to prison, and to takeevery precaution to prevent him seeing his wife again. 

When Polyte had departed, Lecoq reentered the room. "Ah, sir, " said he, despondently, "to think that I didn't draw out of this woman everythingshe knew, when I might have done so easily. But I thought you would bewaiting for me, and made haste to bring her here. I thought I was actingfor the best--"

"Never mind, the misfortune can be repaired. "

"No, sir, no. Since she has seen her husband, it is quite impossibleto get her to speak. She loves that rascal intensely, and he has awonderful influence over her. You heard what he said. He threatenedher with death if she breathed a word about Lacheneur, and she is soterrified that there is no hope of making her speak. "

Lecoq's apprehension was based on fact, as M, Segmuller himselfperceived the instant Toinon the Virtuous again set foot in his office. The poor creature seemed nearly heartbroken, and it was evident shewould have given her life to retract the words that had escaped her whenfirst questioned by Lecoq. Polyte's threat had aroused the most sinisterapprehensions in her mind. Not understanding his connection withthe affair, she asked herself if her testimony might not prove hisdeath-warrant. Accordingly, she answered all M. Segmuller's questionswith "no" or "I don't know"; and retracted everything she had previouslystated to Lecoq. She swore that she had been misunderstood, that herwords had been misconstrued; and vowed on her mother's memory, that shehad never heard the name of Lacheneur before. At last, she burst intowild, despairing sobs, and pressed her frightened child against herbreast. 

What could be done to overcome this foolish obstinacy, as blind andunreasoning as a brute's? M. Segmuller hesitated. "You may retire, mygood woman, " said he kindly, after a moment's pause, "but remember thatyour strange silence injures your husband far more than anything youcould say. "

She left the room--or rather she rushed wildly from it as though onlytoo eager to escape--and the magistrate and the detective exchangedglances of dismay and consternation. 

"I said so before, " thought Goguet, "the prisoner knows what he's about. I would be willing to bet a hundred to one in his favor. "

A French investigating magistrate is possessed of almost unlimitedpowers. No one can hamper him, no one can give him orders. The entirepolice force is at his disposal. One word from him and twenty agents, ora hundred if need be, search Paris, ransack France, or explore Europe. If there be any one whom he believes able to throw light upon an obscurepoint, he simply sends an order to that person to appear before him, andthe man must come even if he lives a hundred leagues away. 

Such is the magistrate, such are his powers. On the other hand, theprisoner charged with a crime, but as yet un-convicted, is confined, unless his offense be of a trivial description, in what is called a"secret cell. " He is, so to say, cut off from the number of the living. He knows nothing of what may be going on in the world outside. He cannot tell what witnesses may have been called, or what they may havesaid, and in his uncertainty he asks himself again and again how far theprosecution has been able to establish the charges against him. 

Such is the prisoner's position, and yet despite the fact that thetwo adversaries are so unequally armed, the man in the secret cell notunfrequently wins the victory. If he is sure that he has left behindhim no proof of his having committed the crime; if he has no guiltyantecedents to be afraid of, he can--impregnable in a defense ofabsolute denial--brave all the attacks of justice. 

Such was, at this moment, the situation of May, the mysterious murderer;as both M. Segmuller and Lecoq were forced to admit, with mingled griefand anger. They had hoped to arrive at a solution of the problem byexamining Polyte Chupin and his wife, and they had been disappointed;for the prisoner's identity remained as problematical as ever. 

"And yet, " exclaimed the magistrate impatiently, "these people knowsomething about this matter, and if they would only speak--"

"But they won't. "

"What motive is it that keeps them silent? This is what we mustdiscover. Who will tell us the price that has been promised PolyteChupin for his silence? What recompense can he count upon? It must be agreat one, for he is braving real danger!"

Lecoq did not immediately reply to the magistrate's successive queries, but it was easy to see from his knit brows that his mind was hard atwork. "You ask me, sir, " he eventually remarked, "what reward hasbeen promised Chupin? I ask on my part who can have promised him thisreward?"

"Who has promised it? Why, plainly the accomplice who has beaten us onevery point. "

"Yes, " rejoined Lecoq, "I suppose it must have been he. It certainlylooks like his handiwork--now, what artifice can he have used? We knowhow he managed to have an interview with the Widow Chupin, but how hashe succeeded in getting at Polyte, who is in prison, closely watched?"

The young detective's insinuation, vague as it was, did not escape M. Segmuller. "What do you mean?" asked the latter, with an air of mingledsurprise and indignation. "You can't suppose that one of the keepers hasbeen bribed?"

Lecoq shook his head, in a somewhat equivocal manner. "I mean nothing, "he replied, "I don't suspect any one. All I want is information. HasChupin been forewarned or not?"

"Yes, of course he has. "

"Then if that point is admitted it can only be explained in two ways. Either there are informers in the prison, or else Chupin has beenallowed to see some visitor. "

These suppositions evidently worried M. Segmuller, who for a momentseemed to hesitate between the two opinions; then, suddenly makingup his mind, he rose from his chair, took up his hat, and said: "Thismatter must be cleared up. Come with me, Monsieur Lecoq. "

A couple of minutes later, the magistrate and the detective had reachedthe Depot, which is connected with the Palais de Justice by a narrowpassage, especially reserved for official use. The prisoners' morningrations had just been served to them, and the governor was walking upand down the courtyard, in the company of Inspector Gevrol. As soon ashe perceived M. Segmuller he hastened toward him and asked if he had notcome about the prisoner May. 

As the magistrate nodded assent, the governor at once added: "Well I wasonly just now telling Inspector Gevrol that I was very well satisfiedwith May's behavior. It has not only been quite unnecessary to placehim in the strait-waistcoat again, but his mood seems to have changedentirely. He eats with a good appetite; he is as gay as a lark, and heconstantly laughs and jests with his keeper. "

Gevrol had pricked up his ears when he heard himself named by thegovernor, and considering this mention to be a sufficient introduction, he thought there would be no impropriety in his listening to theconversation. Accordingly, he approached the others, and noted withsome satisfaction the troubled glances which Lecoq and the magistrateexchanged. 

M. Segmuller was plainly perplexed. May's gay manner to which thegovernor of the Depot alluded might perhaps have been assumed for thepurpose of sustaining his character as a jester and buffoon, it might bedue to a certainty of defeating the judicial inquiry, or, who knows? theprisoner had perhaps received some favorable news from outside. 

With Lecoq's last words still ringing in his ears, it is no wonder thatthe magistrate should have dwelt on this last supposition. "Are youquite sure, " he asked, "that no communication from outside can reach theinmates of the secret cells?"

The governor of the Depot was cut to the quick by M. Segmuller's implieddoubt. What! were his subordinates suspected? Was his own professionalhonesty impugned? He could not help lifting his hands to heaven in muteprotest against such an unjust charge. 

"Am I sure?" he exclaimed. "Then you can never have visited the secretcells. You have no idea, then, of their situation; you are unacquaintedwith the triple bolts that secure the doors; the grating that shuts outthe sunlight, to say nothing of the guard who walks beneath the windowsday and night. Why, a bird couldn't even reach the prisoners in thosecells. "

Such a description was bound to reassure the most skeptical mind, and M. Segmuller breathed again: "Now that I am easy on that score, " said he, "I should like some information about another prisoner--a fellow namedChupin, who isn't in the secret cells. I want to know if any visitorcame for him yesterday. "

"I must speak to the registrar, " replied the governor, "before I cananswer you with certainty. Wait a moment though, here comes a man whocan perhaps tell us. He is usually on guard at the entrance. Here, Ferraud, this way!"

The man to whom the governor called hastened to obey the summons. 

"Do you know whether any one asked to see the prisoner Chupinyesterday?"

"Yes, sir, I went to fetch Chupin to the parlor myself. "

"And who was his visitor?" eagerly asked Lecoq, "wasn't he a tall man;very red in the face--"

"Excuse me, sir, the visitor was a lady--his aunt, at least so Chupintold me. "

Neither M. Segmuller nor Lecoq could restrain an exclamation ofsurprise. "What was she like?" they both asked at the same time. 

"She was short, " replied the attendant, "with a very fair complexion andlight hair; she seemed to be a very respectable woman. "

"It must have been one of the female fugitives who escaped from theWidow Chupin's hovel, " exclaimed Lecoq. 

Gevrol, hitherto an attentive listener, burst into a loud laugh. "Stillthat Russian princess, " said he. 

Neither the magistrate nor the young detective relished thisunseasonable jest. "You forget yourself, sir, " said M. Segmullerseverely. "You forget that the sneers you address to your comrade alsoapply to me!"

The General saw that he had gone too far; and while glancing hatefullyat Lecoq, he mumbled an apology to the magistrate. The latter did notapparently hear him, for, bowing to the governor, he motioned Lecoq tofollow him away. 

"Run to the Prefecture of Police, " he said as soon as they were out ofhearing, "and ascertain how and under what pretext this woman obtainedpermission to see Polyte Chupin. "

XVII

On his way back to his office, M. Segmuller mentally reviewed theposition of affairs; and came to the conclusion that as he had failedto take the citadel of defense by storm, he must resign himself to aregular protracted siege. He was exceedingly annoyed at the constantfailures that had attended all Lecoq's efforts; for time was on thewing, and he knew that in a criminal investigation delay only increasedthe uncertainty of success. The more promptly a crime is followed byjudicial action the easier it is to find the culprit, and prove hisguilt. The longer investigation is delayed the more difficult it becomesto adduce conclusive evidence. 

In the present instance there were various matters that M. Segmullermight at once attend to. With which should he begin? Ought he not toconfront May, the Widow Chupin, and Polyte with the bodies of theirvictims? Such horrible meetings have at times the most momentousresults, and more than one murderer when unsuspectedly brought into thepresence of his victim's lifeless corpse has changed color and lost hisassurance. 

Then there were other witnesses whom M. Segmuller might examine. Papillon, the cab-driver; the concierge of the house in the Rue deBourgogne--where the two women flying from the Poivriere had momentarilytaken refuge; as well as a certain Madame Milner, landlady of the Hotelde Mariembourg. In addition, it would also be advisable to summon, withthe least possible delay, some of the people residing in the vicinity ofthe Poivriere; together with some of Polyte's habitual companions, andthe landlord of the Rainbow, where the victims and the murderer hadapparently passed the evening of the crime. Of course, there was noreason to expect any great revelations from any of these witnesses, still they might know something, they might have an opinion to express, and in the present darkness one single ray of light, however faint, might mean salvation. 

Obeying the magistrate's orders, Goguet, the smiling clerk, had justfinished drawing up at least a dozen summonses, when Lecoq returned fromthe Prefecture. M. Segmuller at once asked him the result of his errand. 

"Ah, sir, " replied the young detective, "I have a fresh proof of thatmysterious accomplice's skill. The permit that was used yesterday to seeyoung Chupin was in the name of his mother's sister, a woman namedRose Pitard. A visiting card was given her more than a week ago, incompliance with a request indorsed by the commissary of police of herdistrict. "

The magistrate's surprise was so intense that it imparted to his facean almost ludicrous expression. "Is this aunt also in the plot?" hemurmured. 

"I don't think so, " replied Lecoq, shaking his head. "At all events, itwasn't she who went to the prison parlor yesterday. The clerks at thePrefecture remember the widow's sister very well, and gave me a fulldescription of her. She's a woman over five feet high, with a very darkcomplexion; and very wrinkled and weatherbeaten about the face. She'squite sixty years old; whereas, yesterday's visitor was short and fair, and not more than forty-five. "

"If that's the case, " interrupted M. Segmuller, "this visitor must beone of our fugitives. "

"I don't think so. "

"Who do you suppose she was, then?"

"Why, the landlady of the Hotel de Mariembourg--that clever woman whosucceeded so well in deceiving me. But she had better take care! Thereare means of verifying my suspicions. "

The magistrate scarcely heard Lecoq's last words, so enraged was he atthe inconceivable audacity and devotion displayed by so many people:all of whom were apparently willing to run the greatest risks so long asthey could only assure the murderer's incognito. 

"But how could the accomplice have known of the existence of thispermit?" he asked after a pause. 

"Oh, nothing could be easier, sir, " replied Lecoq. "When the WidowChupin and the accomplice had that interview at the station-house nearthe Barriere d'Italie, they both realized the necessity of warningPolyte. While trying to devise some means of getting to him, the oldwoman remembered her sister's visiting card, and the man made someexcuse to borrow it. "

"Yes, such must be the case, " said M. Segmuller, approvingly. "It willbe necessary to ascertain, however--"

"And I will ascertain, " interrupted Lecoq, with a resolute air, "if youwill only intrust the matter to me, sir. If you will authorize me Iwill have two spies on the watch before to-night, one in the Rue dela Butte-aux-Cailles, and the other at the door of the Hotel deMariembourg. If the accomplice ventured to visit Toinon or Madame Milnerhe would be arrested; and then we should have our turn!"

However, there was no time to waste in vain words and idle boasting. Lecoq therefore checked himself, and took up his hat preparatory todeparture. "Now, " said he, "I must ask you, sir, for my liberty; ifyou have any orders, you will find a trusty messenger in the corridor, Father Absinthe, one of my colleagues. I want to find out somethingabout Lacheneur's letter and the diamond earring. "

"Go, then, " replied M. Segmuller, "and good luck to you!"

Good luck! Yes, indeed, Lecoq looked for it. If up to the present momenthe had taken his successive defeats good-humoredly, it was because hebelieved that he had a talisman in his pocket which was bound to insureultimate victory. 

"I shall be very stupid if I can't discover the owner of such a valuablejewel, " he soliloquized, referring to the diamond earring. "And whenI find the owner I shall at the same time discover our mysteriousprisoner's identity. "

The first step to be taken was to ascertain whom the earring had beenbought from. It would naturally be a tedious process to go from jewelerto jeweler and ask: "Do you know this jewel, was it set by you, and ifso whom did you sell it to?" But fortunately Lecoq was acquainted witha man whose knowledge of the trade might at once throw light on thematter. This individual was an old Hollander, named Van Numen, who as aconnoisseur in precious stones, was probably without his rival in Paris. He was employed by the Prefecture of Police as an expert in all suchmatters. He was considered rich. Despite his shabby appearance, he wasrightly considered rich, and, in point of fact, he was indeed far morewealthy than people generally supposed. Diamonds were his especialpassion, and he always had several in his pocket, in a little box whichhe would pull out and open at least a dozen times an hour, just as asnuff-taker continually produces his snuffbox. 

This worthy man greeted Lecoq very affably. He put on his glasses, examined the jewel with a grimace of satisfaction, and, in the tone ofan oracle, remarked: "That stone is worth eight thousand francs, and itwas set by Doisty, in the Rue de la Paix. "

Twenty minutes later Lecoq entered this well-known jeweler'sestablishment. Van Numen had not been mistaken. Doisty immediatelyrecognized the earring, which had, indeed, come from his shop. But whomhad he sold it to? He could not recollect, for it had passed out of hishands three or four years before. 

"Wait a moment though, " said he, "I will just ask my wife, who has awonderful memory. "

Madame Doisty truly deserved this eulogium. A single glance at the jewelenabled her to say that she had seen this earring before, and that thepair had been purchased from them by the Marchioness d'Arlange. 

"You must recollect, " she added, turning to her husband, "that theMarchioness only gave us nine thousand francs on account, and that wehad all the trouble in the world to make her pay the balance. "

Her husband did remember this circumstance; and in recording hisrecollection, he exchanged a significant glance with his wife. 

"Now, " said the detective, "I should like to have this marchioness'saddress. "

"She lives in the Faubourg St. Germain, " replied Madame Doisty, "nearthe Esplanade des Invalides. "

Lecoq had refrained from any sign of satisfaction while he was in thejeweler's presence. But directly he had left the shop he evinced suchdelirious joy that the passers-by asked themselves in amazement ifhe were not mad. He did not walk, but fairly danced over the stones, gesticulating in the most ridiculous fashion as he addressed thistriumphant monologue to the empty air: "At last, " said he, "this affairemerges from the mystery that has enshrouded it. At last I reach theveritable actors in the drama, the exalted personages whose existenceI had suspected. Ah! Gevrol, my illustrious General! you talked abouta Russian princess, but you will be obliged to content yourself with asimple marchioness. "

But the vertigo that had seized the young detective graduallydisappeared. His good sense reasserted itself, and, looking calmly atthe situation, he felt that he should need all his presence of mind, penetration, and sagacity to bring the expedition to a successfulfinish. What course should he pursue, on entering the marchioness'spresence, in order to draw from her a full confession and to obtain fullparticulars of the murder, as well as the murderer's name!

"It will be best to threaten her, to frighten her into confession, "he soliloquized. "If I give her time for reflection, I shall learnnothing. "

He paused in his cogitations, for he had reached the residence of theMarchioness d'Arlange--a charming mansion with a courtyard in front andgarden in the rear. Before entering, he deemed it advisable to obtainsome information concerning the inmates. 

"It is here, then, " he murmured, "that I am to find the solution of theenigma! Here, behind these embroidered curtains, dwells the frightenedfugitive of the other night. What agony of fear must torture her sinceshe has discovered the loss of her earring!"

For more than an hour, standing under a neighbor's _porte cochere_, Lecoq remained watching the house. He would have liked to see theface of any one; but the time passed by and not even a shadow couldbe detected behind the curtain; not even a servant passed across thecourtyard. At last, losing patience, the young detective determined tomake inquiries in the neighborhood, for he could not take a decisivestep without obtaining some knowledge of the people he was to encounter. While wondering where he could obtain the information he required, heperceived, on the opposite side of the street, the keeper of a wine-shopsmoking on his doorstep. 

At once approaching and pretending that he had forgotten an address, Lecoq politely asked for the house where Marchioness d'Arlange resided. Without a word, and without condescending to take his pipe from hismouth, the man pointed to the mansion which Lecoq had previouslywatched. 

There was a way, however, to make him more communicative, namely, toenter the shop, call for something to drink, and invite the landlord todrink as well. This was what Lecoq did, and the sight of two well-filledglasses unbound, as by enchantment, the man's hitherto silent tongue. The young detective could not have found a better person to question, for this same individual had been established in the neighborhood forten years, and enjoyed among the servants of the aristocratic familieshere residing a certain amount of confidence. 

"I pity you if you are going to the marchioness's house to collect abill, " he remarked to Lecoq. "You will have plenty of time to learn theway here before you see your money. You will only be another of the manycreditors who never let her bell alone. "

"The deuce! Is she as poor as that?"

"Poor! Why, every one knows that she has a comfortable income, withoutcounting this house. But when one spends double one's income every year, you know--"

The landlord stopped short, to call Lecoq's attention to two ladies whowere passing along the street, one of them, a woman of forty, dressed inblack; the other, a girl half-way through her teens. "There, " quoth thewine-seller, "goes the marchioness's granddaughter, Mademoiselle Claire, with her governess, Mademoiselle Smith. "

Lecoq's head whirled. "Her granddaughter!" he stammered. 

"Yes--the daughter of her deceased son, if you prefer it. "

"How old is the marchioness, then?"

"At least sixty: but one would never suspect it. She is one of thosepersons who live a hundred years. And what an old wretch she is too. She would think no more of knocking me over the head than I would ofemptying this glass of wine--"

"Excuse me, " interrupted Lecoq, "but does she live alone in that greathouse?"

"Yes--that is--with her granddaughter, the governess, and two servants. But what is the matter with you?"

This last question was not uncalled for; for Lecoq had turned deadlywhite. The magic edifice of his hopes had crumbled beneath the weight ofthis man's words as completely as if it were some frail house ofcards erected by a child. He had only sufficient strength to murmur:"Nothing--nothing at all. "

Then, as he could endure this torture of uncertainty no longer, he wenttoward the marchioness's house and rang the bell. The servant who cameto open the door examined him attentively, and then announced thatMadame d'Arlange was in the country. He evidently fancied that Lecoq wasa creditor. 

But the young detective insisted so adroitly, giving the lackey tounderstand so explicitly that he did not come to collect money, andspeaking so earnestly of urgent business, that the servant finallyadmitted him to the hall, saying that he would go and see if madame hadreally gone out. 

Fortunately for Lecoq, she happened to be at home, and an instantafterward the valet returned requesting the young detective tofollow him. After passing through a large and magnificently furnisheddrawing-room, they reached a charming boudoir, hung with rose-coloredcurtains, where, sitting by the fireside, in a large easy-chair, Lecoqfound an old woman, tall, bony, and terrible of aspect, her face loadedwith paint, and her person covered with ornaments. The aged coquettewas Madame, the Marchioness, who, for the time being, was engaged inknitting a strip of green wool. She turned toward her visitor justenough to show him the rouge on one cheek, and then, as he seemed ratherfrightened--a fact flattering to her vanity--she spoke in an affabletone. "Ah, well young man, " said she, "what brings you here?"

In point of fact, Lecoq was not frightened, but he was intenselydisappointed to find that Madame d'Arlange could not possibly be one ofthe women who had escaped from the Widow Chupin's hovel on the night ofthe murder. There was nothing about her appearance that corresponded inthe least degree with the descriptions given by Papillon. 

Remembering the small footprints left in the snow by the two fugitives, the young detective glanced, moreover, at the marchioness's feet, justperceivable beneath her skirt, and his disappointment reached its climaxwhen he found that they were truly colossal in size. 

"Well, are you dumb?" inquired the old lady, raising her voice. 

Without making a direct reply, Lecoq produced the precious earring, and, placing it upon the table beside the marchioness, remarked: "I bring youthis jewel, madame, which I have found, and which, I am told, belongs toyou. "

Madame d'Arlange laid down her knitting and proceeded to examine theearring. "It is true, " she said, after a moment, "that this ornamentformerly belonged to me. It was a fancy I had, about four years ago, andit cost me dear--at least twenty thousand francs. Ah! Doisty, the manwho sold me those diamonds, must make a handsome income. But I had agranddaughter to educate and pressing need of money compelled me to sellthem. "

"To whom?" asked Lecoq, eagerly. 

"Eh?" exclaimed the old lady, evidently shocked at his audacity, "youare very inquisitive upon my word!"

"Excuse me, madame, but I am anxious to find the owner of this valuableornament. "

Madame d'Arlange regarded her visitor with an air of mingled curiosityand surprise. "Such honesty!" said she. "Oh, oh! And of course you don'thope for a sou by way of reward--"

"Madame!"

"Good, good! There is not the least need for you to turn as red as apoppy, young man. I sold these diamonds to a great Austrian lady--theBaroness de Watchau. "

"And where does this lady reside?"

"At the Pere la Chaise, probably, since she died about a year ago. Ah!these women of the present day--an extra waltz, or the merest draft, andit's all over with them! In my time, after each gallop, we girls usedto swallow a tumbler of sweetened wine, and sit down between two opendoors. And we did very well, as you see. "

"But, madame, " insisted Lecoq, "the Baroness de Watchau must have leftsome one behind her--a husband, or children--"

"No one but a brother, who holds a court position at Vienna: and whocould not leave even to attend the funeral. He sent orders that allhis sister's personal property should be sold--not even excepting herwardrobe--and the money sent to him. "

Lecoq could not repress an exclamation of disappointment. "Howunfortunate!" he murmured. 

"Why?" asked the old lady. "Under these circumstances, the diamond willprobably remain in your hands, and I am rejoiced that it should be so. It will be a fitting reward for your honesty. "

Madame d'Arlange was naturally not aware that her remark implied themost exquisite torture for Lecoq. Ah! if it should be as she said, ifhe should never find the lady who had lost this costly jewel! Smartingunder the marchioness's unintended irony, he would have liked toapostrophize her in angry terms; but it could not be, for it wasadvisable if not absolutely necessary that he should conceal his trueidentity. Accordingly, he contrived to smile, and even stammered anacknowledgment of Madame d'Arlange's good wishes. Then, as if he had nomore to expect, he made her a low bow and withdrew. 

This new misfortune well-nigh overwhelmed him. One by one all thethreads upon which he had relied to guide him out of this intricatelabyrinth were breaking in his hands. In the present instance hecould scarcely be the dupe of some fresh comedy, for if the murderer'saccomplice had taken Doisty, the jeweler, into his confidence he wouldhave instructed him to say that the earring had never come from hisestablishment, and that he could not consequently tell whom it had beensold to. On the contrary, however, Doisty and his wife had readily givenMadame d'Arlange's name, and all the circumstances pointed in favor oftheir sincerity. Then, again, there was good reason to believe inthe veracity of the marchioness's assertions. They were sufficientlyauthenticated by a significant glance which Lecoq had detected betweenthe jeweler and his wife. The meaning of this glance could not bedoubted. It implied plainly that both husband and wife were of opinionthat in buying these earrings the marchioness engaged in one of thoselittle speculations which are more common than many people might supposeamong ladies moving in high-class society. Being in urgent want of readymoney, she had bought on credit at a high price to sell for cash at aloss. 

As Lecoq was anxious to investigate the matter as far as possible, he returned to Doisty's establishment, and, by a plausible pretext, succeeded in gaining a sight of the books in which the jewelerrecorded his transactions. He soon found the sale of the earrings dulyrecorded--specified by Madame Doisty at the date--both in the day-bookand the ledger. Madame d'Arlange first paid 9, 000 francs on account andthe balance of the purchase money (an equivalent sum) had been receivedin instalments at long intervals subsequently. Now, if it had been easyfor Madame Milner to make a false entry in her traveler's registry atthe Hotel de Mariembourg, it was absurd to suppose that the jewelerhad falsified all his accounts for four years. Hence, the facts wereindisputable; and yet, the young detective was not satisfied. 

He hurried to the Faubourg Saint Honore, to the house formerly occupiedby the Baroness de Watchau, and there found a good-natured concierge, who at once informed him that after the Baroness's death her furnitureand personal effects had been taken to the great auction mart in the RueDrouot; the sale being conducted by M. Petit, the eminent auctioneer. 

Without losing a minute, Lecoq hastened to this individual's office. M. Petit remembered the Watchau sale very well; it had made quite asensation at the time, and on searching among his papers he soon founda long catalogue of the various articles sold. Several lots of jewelrywere mentioned, with the sums paid, and the names of the purchasers; butthere was not the slightest allusion to these particular earrings. WhenLecoq produced the diamond he had in his pocket, the auctioneer couldnot remember that he had ever seen it; though of course this was noevidence to the contrary, for, as he himself remarked, --so many articlespassed through his hands! However, this much he could declare upon oath;the baroness's brother, her only heir, had preserved nothing--not somuch as a pin's worth of his sister's effects: although he had been in agreat hurry to receive the proceeds, which amounted to the pleasant sumof one hundred and sixty-seven thousand five hundred and thirty francs, all expenses deducted. 

"Everything this lady possessed was sold?" inquired Lecoq. 

"Everything. "

"And what is the name of this brother of hers?"

"Watchau, also. The baroness had probably married one of her relatives. Until last year her brother occupied a very prominent diplomaticposition. I think he now resides at Berlin. "

Certainly this information would not seem to indicate that theauctioneer had been tampered with; and yet Lecoq was not satisfied. "Itis very strange, " he thought, as he walked toward his lodgings, "thatwhichever side I turn, in this affair, I find mention of Germany. Themurderer comes from Leipsic, Madame Milner must be a Bavarian, and nowhere is an Austrian baroness. "

It was too late to make any further inquiries that evening, and Lecoqwent to bed; but the next morning, at an early hour, he resumed hisinvestigations with fresh ardor. There now seemed only one remainingclue to success: the letter signed "Lacheneur, " which had been foundin the pocket of the murdered soldier. This letter, judging from thehalf-effaced heading at the top of the note-paper, must have beenwritten in some cafe on the Boulevard Beaumarchais. To discover whichprecise cafe would be mere child's play; and indeed the fourth landlordto whom Lecoq exhibited the letter recognized the paper as his. Butneither he, nor his wife, nor the young lady at the counter, nor thewaiters, nor any of the customers present at the time, had ever onceheard mention made of this singular name--Lacheneur. 

And now what was Lecoq to do? Was the case utterly hopeless? Not yet. Had not the spurious soldier declared that this Lacheneur was an oldcomedian? Seizing upon this frail clue, as a drowning man clutches atthe merest fragment of the floating wreck, Lecoq turned his steps inanother direction, and hurried from theatre to theatre, asking everyone, from doorkeeper to manager: "Don't you know an actor namedLacheneur?"

Alas! one and all gave a negative reply, at times indulging in somerough joke at the oddity of the name. And when any one asked the youngdetective what the man he was seeking was like, what could he reply?His answer was necessarily limited to the virtuous Toinon's phrase: "Ithought him a very respectable-looking gentleman. " This was not a verygraphic description, however, and, besides, it was rather doubtful whata woman like Polyte Chupin's wife might mean by the word "respectable. "Did she apply it to the man's age, to his personal aspect, or to hisapparent fortune. 

Sometimes those whom Lecoq questioned would ask what parts this comedianof his was in the habit of playing; and then the young detective couldmake no reply whatever. He kept for himself the harassing thoughtthat the role now being performed by the unknown Lacheneur was drivinghim--Lecoq--wild with despair. 

Eventually our hero had recourse to a method of investigation which, strange to say, the police seldom employ, save in extreme cases, although it is at once sensible and simple, and generally fraughtwith success. It consists in examining all the hotel and lodging-houseregisters, in which the landlords are compelled to record the names oftheir tenants, even should the latter merely sojourn under their roofsfor a single night. 

Rising long before daybreak and going to bed late at night, Lecoq spentall his time in visiting the countless hotels and furnished lodgings inParis. But still and ever his search was vain. He never once came acrossthe name of Lacheneur; and at last he began to ask himself if sucha name really existed, or if it were not some pseudonym inventedfor convenience. He had not found it even in Didot's directory, theso-called "Almanach Boitin, " where one finds all the most singular andabsurd names in France--those which are formed of the most fantasticmingling of syllables. 

Still, nothing could daunt him or turn him from the almost impossibletask he had undertaken, and his obstinate perseverance well-nighdeveloped into monomania. He was no longer subject to occasionaloutbursts of anger, quickly repressed; but lived in a state of constantexasperation, which soon impaired the clearness of his mind. No moretheories, or ingenious deductions, no more subtle reasoning. He pursuedhis search without method and without order--much as Father Absinthemight have done when under the influence of alcohol. Perhaps he had cometo rely less upon his own shrewdness than upon chance to reveal to himthe substance of the mystery, of which he had as yet only detected theshadow. 

XVIII

When a heavy stone is thrown into a lake a considerable commotionensues, the water spouts and seethes and bubbles and frequently a talljet leaps into the air. But all this agitation only lasts for a moment;the bubbling subsides as the circles of the passing whirlpool growlarger and larger; the surface regains at last its customary smoothness;and soon no trace remains of the passage of the stone, now buried in thedepths below. 

So it is with the events of our daily life, however momentous they mayappear at the hour of their occurrence. It seems as if their impressionswould last for years; but no, they speedily sink into the depths of thepast, and time obliterates their passage--just as the water of thelake closes over and hides the stone, for an instant the cause of suchcommotion. Thus it was that at the end of a fortnight the frightfulcrime committed in the Widow Chupin's drinking-den, the triple murderwhich had made all Paris shudder, which had furnished the material forso many newspaper articles, and the topic for such indignant comments, was completely forgotten. Indeed, had the tragedy at the Poivriereoccurred in the times of Charlemagne, it could not have passed morethoroughly out of people's minds. It was remembered only in threeplaces, at the Depot, at the Prefecture de Police, and at the Palais deJustice. 

M. Segmuller's repeated efforts had proved as unsuccessful as Lecoq's. Skilful questioning, ingenious insinuations, forcible threats, andseductive promises had proved powerless to overcome the dogged spiritof absolute denial which persistently animated, not merely the prisonerMay, but also the Widow Chupin, her son Polyte, Toinon the Virtuous, andMadame Milner. The evidence of these various witnesses showed plainlyenough that they were all in league with the mysterious accomplice; butwhat did this knowledge avail? Their attitude never varied! And, evenif at times their looks gave the lie to their denials, one could alwaysread in their eyes an unshaken determination to conceal the truth. 

There were moments when the magistrate, overpowered by a sense ofthe insufficiency of the purely moral weapons at his disposal, almostregretted that the Inquisition was suppressed. Yes, in presence of thelies that were told him, lies so impudent that they were almost insults, he no longer wondered at the judicial cruelties of the Middle Ages, or at the use of the muscle-breaking rack, the flesh-burning, red-hotpincers, and other horrible instruments, which, by the physical torturethey inflicted, forced the most obstinate culprit to confess. Theprisoner May's manner was virtually unaltered; and far from showing anysigns of weakness, his assurance had, if anything, increased, as thoughhe were confident of ultimate victory and as though he had in some waylearned that the prosecution had failed to make the slightest progress. 

On one occasion, when summoned before M. Segmuller, he ventured toremark in a tone of covert irony: "Why do you keep me confined solong in a secret cell? Am I never to be set at liberty or sent to theassizes. Am I to suffer much longer on account of your fantastic ideathat I am some great personage in disguise?"

"I shall keep you until you have confessed, " was M. Segmuller's answer. 

"Confessed what?"

"Oh! you know very well. "

The prisoner shrugged his shoulders at these last words, and then in atone of mingled despondency and mockery retorted: "In that case there isno hope of my ever leaving this cursed prison!"

It was probably this conviction that induced him to make all seemingpreparations for an indefinite stay. He applied for and obtained aportion of the contents of the trunk found at the Hotel de Mariembourg, and evinced great joy when the various knickknacks and articles ofclothing were handed over to him. Thanks to the money found upon hisperson when arrested, and deposited with the prison registrar, he was, moreover, able to procure many little luxuries, which are never deniedto unconvicted prisoners, no matter what may be the charges againstthem, for they have a right to be considered as innocent until a juryhas decided to the contrary. To while away the time, May next asked fora volume of Beranger's songs, and his request being granted, he spentmost of the day in learning several of the ditties by heart, singingthem in a loud voice and with considerable taste. This fancy havingexcited some comment, he pretended that he was cultivating a talentwhich might be useful to him when he was set at liberty. For he had nodoubt of his acquittal; at least, so he declared; and if he were anxiousabout the date of his trial, he did not show the slightest apprehensionconcerning its result. 

He was never despondent save when he spoke of his profession. To allappearance he pined for the stage, and, in fact, he almost wept when herecalled the fantastic, many-colored costumes, clad in which he had onceappeared before crowded audiences--audiences that had been convulsedwith laughter by his sallies of wit, delivered between bursts of noisymusic. He seemed to have become altogether a better fellow; more frank, communicative, and submissive. He eagerly embraced every opportunityto babble about his past, and over and over again did he recount theadventures of the roving life he had led while in the employ of M. Simpson, the showman. He had, of course, traveled a great deal; andhe remembered everything he had seen; possessing, moreover, aninexhaustible fund of amusing stories, with which he entertained hiscustodians. His manner and his words were so natural that head keepersand subordinate turnkeys alike were quite willing to give credit to hisassertions. 

The governor of the Depot alone remained unconvinced. He had declaredthat this pretended buffoon must be some dangerous criminal who hadescaped from Cayenne, and who for this reason was determined to concealhis antecedents. Such being this functionary's opinion, he tried everymeans to substantiate it. Accordingly, during an entire fortnight, May was submitted to the scrutiny of innumerable members of the policeforce, to whom were added all the more notable private detectives of thecapital. No one recognized him, however, and although his photograph wassent to all the prisons and police stations of the empire, not one ofthe officials could recognize his features. 

Other circumstances occurred, each of which had its influence, and oneand all of them speaking in the prisoner's favor. For instance, thesecond bureau of the Prefecture de Police found positive traces of theexistence of a strolling artist, named Tringlot, who was probably theman referred to in May's story. This Tringlot had been dead severalyears. Then again, inquiries made in Germany revealed the fact that acertain M. Simpson was very well known in that country, where he hadachieved great celebrity as a circus manager. 

In presence of this information and the negative result of the scrutinyto which May had been subjected, the governor of the Depot abandonedhis views and openly confessed that he had been mistaken. "The prisoner, May, " he wrote to the magistrate, "is really and truly what he pretendsto be. There can be no further doubt on the subject. " This message, itmay be added, was sent at Gevrol's instigation. 

So thus it was that M. Segmuller and Lecoq alone remained of theiropinion. This opinion was at least worthy of consideration, as theyalone knew all the details of the investigation which had been conductedwith such strict secrecy; and yet this fact was of little import. Itis not merely unpleasant, but often extremely dangerous to struggle onagainst all the world, and unfortunately for truth and logic one man'sopinion, correct though it may be, is nothing in the balance of dailylife against the faulty views of a thousand adversaries. 

The "May affair" had soon become notorious among the members of thepolice force; and whenever Lecoq appeared at the Prefecture he had tobrave his colleagues' sarcastic pleasantry. Nor did M. Segmuller escapescot free; for more than one fellow magistrate, meeting him on thestairs or in the corridor, inquired, with a smile, what he was doingwith his Casper Hauser, his man in the Iron Mask, in a word, with hismysterious mountebank. When thus assailed, both M. Segmuller and Lecoqcould scarcely restrain those movements of angry impatience which comenaturally to a person who feels certain he is in the right and yet cannot prove it. 

"Ah, me!" sometimes exclaimed the magistrate, "why did D'Escorval breakhis leg? Had it not been for that cursed mishap, he would have beenobliged to endure all these perplexities, and I--I should be enjoyingmyself like other people. "

"And I thought myself so shrewd!" murmured the young detective by hisside. 

Little by little anxiety did its work. Magistrate and detective bothlost their appetites and looked haggard; and yet the idea of yieldingnever once occurred to them. Although of very different natures, they were both determined to persevere in the task they had setthemselves--that of solving this tantalizing enigma. Lecoq, indeed, had resolved to renounce all other claims upon his time, and to devotehimself entirely to the study of the case. "Henceforth, " he said to M. Segmuller, "I also will constitute myself a prisoner; and although thesuspected murderer will be unable to see me, I shall not lose sight ofhim!"

It so happened that there was a loft between the cell occupied by Mayand the roof of the prison, a loft of such diminutive proportions thata man of average height could not stand upright in it. This loft hadneither window nor skylight, and the gloom would have been intense, had not a few faint sun-rays struggled through the interstices ofsome ill-adjusted tiles. In this unattractive garret Lecoq establishedhimself one fine morning, just at the hour when May was taking his dailywalk in the courtyard of the prison accompanied by a couple of keepers. Under these circumstances there was no fear of Lecoq's movementsattracting the prisoner's notice or suspicion. The garret had a pavedfloor, and first of all the young detective removed one of the stoneswith a pickax he had brought for the purpose. Beneath this stone hefound a timber beam, through which he next proceeded to bore a hole offunnel shape, large at the top and gradually dwindling until on piercingthe ceiling of the cell it was no more than two-thirds of an inch indiameter. Prior to commencing his operations, Lecoq had visited theprisoner's quarters and had skilfully chosen the place of the projectedaperture, so that the stains and graining of the beam would hide it fromthe view of any one below. He was yet at work when the governor of theDepot and his rival Gevrol appeared upon the threshold of the loft. 

"So this is to be your observatory, Monsieur Lecoq!" remarked Gevrol, with a sneering laugh. 

"Yes, sir. "

"You will not be very comfortable here. "

"I shall be less uncomfortable than you suppose; I have brought a largeblanket with me, and I shall stretch myself out on the floor and manageto sleep here. "

"So that, night and day, you will have your eye on the prisoner?"

"Yes, night and day. "

"Without giving yourself time to eat or drink?" inquired Gevrol. 

"Excuse me! Father Absinthe will bring me my meals, execute any errand Imay have, and relieve me at times if necessary. "

The jealous General laughed; but his laugh, loud as it was, was yet atrifle constrained. "Well, I pity you, " he said. 

"Very possibly. "

"Do you know what you will look like, with your eye glued to that hole?"

"Like what? Tell me, we needn't stand on ceremony. "

"Ah, well! You will look just like one of those silly naturalists whoput all sorts of little insects under a magnifying glass, and spendtheir lives in watching them. "

Lecoq had finished his work; and rose from his kneeling position. "Youcouldn't have found a better comparison, General, " said he. "I owe myidea to those very naturalists you speak about so slightingly. By dintof studying those little creatures--as you say--under a microscope, these patient, gifted men discover the habits and instincts of theinsect world. Very well, then. What they can do with an insect, I willdo with a man!"

"Oh, ho!" said the governor of the prison, considerably astonished. 

"Yes; that's my plan, " continued Lecoq. "I want to learn this prisoner'ssecret; and I will do so. That I've sworn; and success must be mine, for, however strong his courage may be, he will have his moments ofweakness, and then I shall be present at them. I shall be present ifever his will fails him, if, believing himself alone, he lets his maskfall, or forgets his part for an instant, if an indiscreet word escapeshim in his sleep, if his despair elicits a groan, a gesture, or alook--I shall be there to take note of it. " The tone of resolutionwith which the young detective spoke made a deep impression upon thegovernor's mind. For an instant he was a believer in Lecoq's theory; andhe was impressed by the strangeness of this conflict between a prisoner, determined to preserve the secret of his identity, and the agent for theprosecution, equally determined to wrest it from him. "Upon my word, myboy, you are not wanting in courage and energy, " said he. 

"Misdirected as it may be, " growled Gevrol, who, although he spoke veryslowly and deliberately, was in his secret soul by no means convincedof what he said. Faith is contagious, and he was troubled in spite ofhimself by Lecoq's imperturbable assurance. What if this debutant inthe profession should be right, and he, Gevrol, the oracle of thePrefecture, wrong! What shame and ridicule would be his portion, then!But once again he inwardly swore that this inexperienced youngster couldbe no match for an old veteran like himself, and then added aloud: "Theprefect of police must have more money than he knows what to do with, topay two men for such a nonsensical job as this. "

Lecoq disdained to reply to this slighting remark. For more than afortnight the General had profited of every opportunity to make himselfas disagreeable as possible, and the young detective feared he would beunable to control his temper if the discussion continued. It would bebetter to remain silent, and to work and wait for success. To succeedwould be revenge enough! Moreover, he was impatient to see theseunwelcome visitors depart; believing, perhaps, that Gevrol was quitecapable of attracting the prisoner's attention by some unusual sound. 

As soon as they went away, Lecoq hastily spread his blanket over thestones and stretched himself out upon it in such a position that hecould alternately apply his eye and his ear to the aperture. In thisposition he had an admirable view of the cell below. He could see thedoor, the bed, the table, and the chair; only the small space near thewindow and the window itself were beyond his range of observation. Hehad scarcely completed his survey, when he heard the bolts rattle: theprisoner was returning from his walk. He seemed in excellent spirits, and was just completing what was, undoubtedly, a very interesting story, since the keeper who accompanied him lingered for a moment to hear thefinish. Lecoq was delighted with the success of his experiment. Hecould hear as easily as he could see. Each syllable reached his eardistinctly, and he had not lost a single word of the recital, which wasamusing, though rather coarse. 

The turnkey soon left the cell; the bolts rattled once more, and thekey grated in the lock. After walking once or twice across his cell, Maytook up his volume of Beranger and for an hour or more seemed completelyengrossed in its contents. Finally, he threw himself down upon his bed. Here he remained until meal-time in the evening, when he rose and atewith an excellent appetite. He next resumed the study of his book, anddid not go to bed until the lights were extinguished. 

Lecoq knew well enough that during the night his eyes would not servehim, but he trusted that his ears might prove of use, hoping that sometelltale word might escape the prisoner's lips during his restlessslumber. In this expectation he was disappointed. May tossed to and froupon his pallet; he sighed, and one might have thought he was sobbing, but not a syllable escaped his lips. He remained in bed until very latethe next morning; but on hearing the bell sound the hour of breakfast, eleven o'clock, he sprang from his couch with a bound, and aftercapering about his cell for a few moments, began to sing, in a loud andcheerful voice, the old ditty:

 "Diogene! Sous ton manteau, libre et content, Je ris, je bois, sans gene--"

The prisoner did not stop singing until a keeper entered his cellcarrying his breakfast. The day now beginning differed in no respectfrom the one that had preceded it, neither did the night. The same mightbe said of the next day, and of those which followed. To sing, to eat, to sleep, to attend to his hands and nails--such was the life led bythis so-called buffoon. His manner, which never varied, was that of anaturally cheerful man terribly bored. 

Such was the perfection of his acting that, after six days and nightsof constant surveillance, Lecoq had detected nothing decisive, noreven surprising. And yet he did not despair. He had noticed that everymorning, while the employees of the prison were busy distributing theprisoner's food, May invariably began to sing the same ditty. 

"Evidently this song is a signal, " thought Lecoq. "What can be going onthere by the window I can't see? I must know to-morrow. "

Accordingly on the following morning he arranged that May should betaken on his walk at half-past ten o'clock, and he then insisted thatthe governor should accompany him to the prisoner's cell. That worthyfunctionary was not very well pleased with the change in the usual orderof things. "What do you wish to show me?" he asked. "What is there sovery curious to see?"

"Perhaps nothing, " replied Lecoq, "but perhaps something of greatimportance. "

Eleven o'clock sounding soon after, he began singing the prisoner'ssong, and he had scarcely finished the second line, when a bit of bread, no larger than a bullet, adroitly thrown through the window, dropped athis feet. 

A thunderbolt falling in May's cell would not have terrified thegovernor as much as did this inoffensive projectile. He stood in silentdismay; his mouth wide open, his eyes starting from their sockets, asif he distrusted the evidence of his own senses. What a disgrace! Aninstant before he would have staked his life upon the inviolability ofthe secret cells; and now he beheld his prison dishonored. 

"A communication! a communication!" he repeated, with a horrified air. 

Quick as lightning, Lecoq picked up the missile. "Ah, " murmured he, "Iguessed that this man was in communication with his friends. "

The young detective's evident delight changed the governor's stupor intofury. "Ah! my prisoners are writing!" he exclaimed, wild with passion. "My warders are acting as postmen! By my faith, this matter shall belooked into. "

So saying, he was about to rush to the door when Lecoq stopped him. "What are you going to do, sir?" he asked. 

"I am going to call all the employees of this prison together, andinform them that there is a traitor among them, and that I must know whohe is, as I wish to make an example of him. And if, in twenty-four hoursfrom now, the culprit has not been discovered, every man connected withthis prison shall be removed. "

Again he started to leave the room, and Lecoq, this time, had almost touse force to detain him. "Be calm, sir; be calm, " he entreated. 

"I will punish--"

"Yes, yes--I understand that--but wait until you have regained yourself-possession. It is quite possible that the guilty party may be oneof the prisoners who assist in the distribution of food every morning. "

"What does that matter?"

"Excuse me, but it matters a great deal. If you noise this discoveryabroad, we shall never discover the truth. The traitor will not be foolenough to confess his guilt. We must be silent and wait. We will keep aclose watch and detect the culprit in the very act. "

These objections were so sensible that the governor yielded. "So be it, "he sighed, "I will try and be patient. But let me see the missive thatwas enclosed in this bit of bread. "

Lecoq could not consent to this proposal. "I warned M. Segmuller, " saidhe, "that there would probably be something new this morning; and hewill be waiting for me in his office. We must only examine the letter inhis presence. "

This remark was so correct that the governor assented; and they at oncestarted for the Palais de Justice. On their way, Lecoq endeavored toconvince his companion that it was wrong to deplore a circumstancewhich might be of incalculable benefit to the prosecution. "It was anillusion, " said he, "to imagine that the governor of a prison could bemore cunning than the prisoners entrusted to him. A prisoner is almostalways a match in ingenuity for his custodians. "

The young detective had not finished speaking when they reachedthe magistrate's office. Scarcely had Lecoq opened the door than M. Segmuller and his clerk rose from their seats. They both read importantintelligence in our hero's troubled face. "What is it?" eagerly askedthe magistrate. Lecoq's sole response was to lay the pellet of breadupon M. Segmuller's desk. In an instant the magistrate had opened it, extracting from the centre a tiny slip of the thinnest tissue paper. This he unfolded, and smoothed upon the palm of his hand. As soon ashe glanced at it, his brow contracted. "Ah! this note is written incipher, " he exclaimed, with a disappointed air. 

"We must not lose patience, " said Lecoq quietly. He took the slip ofpaper from the magistrate and read the numbers inscribed upon it. Theyran as follows: "235, 15, 3, 8, 25, 2, 16, 208, 5, 360, 4, 36, 19, 7, 14, 118, 84, 23, 9, 40, 11, 99. "

"And so we shall learn nothing from this note, " murmured the governor. 

"Why not?" the smiling clerk ventured to remark. "There is no system ofcipher which can not be read with a little skill and patience; there aresome people who make it their business. "

"You are right, " said Lecoq, approvingly. "And I, myself, once had theknack of it. "

"What!" exclaimed the magistrate; "do you hope to find the key to thiscipher?"

"With time, yes. "

Lecoq was about to place the paper in his breast-pocket, when themagistrate begged him to examine it a little further. He did so; andafter a while his face suddenly brightened. Striking his forehead withhis open palm, he cried: "I've found it!"

An exclamation of incredulous surprise simultaneously escaped themagistrate, the governor, and the clerk. 

"At least I think so, " added Lecoq, more cautiously. "If I am notmistaken, the prisoner and his accomplice have adopted a very simplesystem called the double book-cipher. The correspondents first agreeupon some particular book; and both obtain a copy of the same edition. When one desires to communicate with the other, he opens the bookhaphazard, and begins by writing the number of the page. Then he mustfind on the same page the words that will express his thoughts. If thefirst word he wishes to write is the twentieth on the page, he placesnumber 20 after the number of the page; then he begins to count one, two, three, and so on, until he finds the next word he wishes to use. If this word happens to be the sixth, he writes the figure 6, and hecontinues so on till he has finished his letter. You see, now, howthe correspondent who receives the note must begin. He finds the pageindicated, and then each figure represents a word. "

"Nothing could be clearer, " said the magistrate, approvingly. 

"If this note, " pursued Lecoq, "had been exchanged between two personsat liberty, it would be folly to attempt its translation. This simplesystem is the only one which has completely baffled inquisitive efforts, simply because there is no way of ascertaining the book agreed upon. But in this instance such is not the case; May is a prisoner, and he hasonly one book in his possession, 'The Songs of Beranger. ' Let this bookbe sent for--"

The governor of the Depot was actually enthusiastic. "I will run andfetch it myself, " he interrupted. 

But Lecoq, with a gesture, detained him. "Above all, sir, " said he, "take care that May doesn't discover his book has been tampered with. If he has returned from his promenade, make some excuse to have him sentout of his cell again; and don't allow him to return there while we areusing his book. "

"Oh, trust me!" replied the governor, hastily leaving the room. 

Less than a quarter of an hour afterward he returned, carrying intriumph a little volume in 32mo. With a trembling hand Lecoq turned topage 235, and began to count. The fifteenth word on the page was'I'; the third afterward, 'have'; the eighth following, 'told'; thetwenty-fifth, 'her'; the second, 'your'; the sixteenth, 'wishes. ' Hence, the meaning of those six numbers was: "I have told her your wishes. "

The three persons who had witnessed this display of shrewdness could notrestrain their admiration. "Bravo! Lecoq, " exclaimed the magistrate. "Iwill no longer bet a hundred to one on May, " thought the smiling clerk. 

But Lecoq was still busily engaged in deciphering the missive, and soon, in a voice trembling with gratified vanity, he read the entire notealoud. It ran as follows: "I have told her your wishes; she submits. Oursafety is assured; we are waiting your orders to act. Hope! Courage!"

XIX

Yet what a disappointment it produced after the fever of anxiety andexpectation that had seized hold of everybody present. This strangeepistle furnished no clue whatever to the mystery; and the ray of hopethat had sparkled for an instant in M. Segmuller's eyes speedily fadedaway. As for the versatile Goguet he returned with increased convictionto his former opinion, that the prisoner had the advantage over hisaccusers. 

"How unfortunate, " remarked the governor of the Depot, with a shadeof sarcasm in his voice, "that so much trouble, and such marvelouspenetration, should be wasted!"

"So you think, sir, that I have wasted my time!" rejoined Lecoq in atone of angry banter, a scarlet flush mantling at the same time over hisfeatures. "Such is not my opinion. This scrap of paper undeniably provesthat if any one has been mistaken as regards the prisoner's identity, itis certainly not I. "

"Very well, " was the reply. "M. Gevrol and myself may have beenmistaken: no one is infallible. But have you learned anything more thanyou knew before? Have you made any progress?"

"Why, yes. Now that people know the prisoner is not what he pretends tobe, instead of annoying and hampering me, perhaps they will assist us todiscover who he really is. "

Lecoq's tone, and his allusion to the difficulties he had encountered, cut the governor to the quick. The knowledge that the reproof was notaltogether undeserved increased his resentment and determined him tobring this discussion with an inferior to an abrupt close. "You areright, " said he, sarcastically. "This May must be a very great andillustrious personage. Only, my dear Monsieur Lecoq (for there is anonly), do me the favor to explain how such an important personage coulddisappear, and the police not be advised of it? A man of rank, suchas you suppose this prisoner to be, usually has a family, friends, relatives, proteges, and numerous connections; and yet not a singleperson has made any inquiry during the three weeks that this fellow Mayhas been under my charge! Come, admit you never thought of that. "

The governor had just advanced the only serious objection that could befound to the theory adopted by the prosecution. He was wrong, however, in supposing that Lecoq had failed to foresee it; for it had never oncebeen out of the young detective's mind; and he had racked his brainagain and again to find some satisfactory explanation. At the presentmoment he would undoubtedly have made some angry retort to thegovernor's sneering criticism, as people are wont to do when theirantagonists discover the weak spot in their armor, had not M. Segmulleropportunely intervened. 

"All these recriminations do no good, " he remarked, calmly; "we can makeno progress while they continue. It would be much wiser to decide uponthe course that is now to be pursued. "

Thus reminded of the present situation of affairs, the young detectivesmiled; all his rancor was forgotten. "There is, I think, but one courseto pursue, " he replied in a modest tone; "and I believe it willbe successful by reason of its simplicity. We must substitute acommunication of our own composition for this one. That will not beat all difficult, since I have the key to the cipher. I shall onlybe obliged to purchase a similar volume of Beranger's songs; and May, believing that he is addressing his accomplice, will reply in allsincerity--will reveal everything perhaps--"

"Excuse me!" interrupted the governor, "but how will you obtainpossession of his reply?"

"Ah! you ask me too much. I know the way in which his letters havereached him. For the rest, I will watch and find a way--never fear!"

Goguet, the smiling clerk, could not conceal an approving grin. If hehad happened to have ten francs in his pocket just then he would haverisked them all on Lecoq without a moment's hesitation. 

"First, " resumed the young detective, "I will replace this missive byone of my own composition. To-morrow, at breakfast time, if the prisonergives the signal, Father Absinthe shall throw the morsel of breadenclosing my note through the window while I watch the effect throughthe hole in the ceiling of the cell. "

Lecoq was so delighted with this plan of his that he at once rang thebell, and when the magistrate's messenger appeared, he gave him half afranc and requested him to go at once and purchase some of the thinnesttissue paper. When this had been procured, Lecoq took his seat at theclerk's desk, and, provided with the volume of Beranger's songs, beganto compose a fresh note, copying as closely as possible the forms of thefigures used by the unknown correspondent. The task did not occupy himmore than ten minutes, for, fearing lest he might commit some blunder, he reproduced most of the words of the original letter, giving them, however, an entirely different meaning. 

When completed, his note read as follows: "I have told her your wishes;she does not submit. Our safety is threatened. We are awaiting yourorders. I tremble. "

Having acquainted the magistrate with the purport of the note, Lecoqnext rolled up the paper, and enclosing it in the fragment of bread, remarked: "To-morrow we shall learn something new. "

To-morrow! The twenty-four hours that separated the young man from thedecisive moment he looked forward to seemed as it were a century; and heresorted to every possible expedient to hasten the passing of the time. At length, after giving precise instructions to Father Absinthe, heretired to his loft for the night. The hours seemed interminable, andsuch was his nervous excitement that he found it quite impossible tosleep. On rising at daybreak he discovered that the prisoner was alreadyawake. May was sitting on the foot of his bed, apparently plunged inthought. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and paced restlessly to andfro. He was evidently in an unusually agitated frame of mind: for hegesticulated wildly, and at intervals repeated: "What misery! My God!what misery!"

"Ah! my fine fellow, " thought Lecoq, "you are anxious about the dailyletter you failed to receive yesterday. Patience, patience! One of mywriting will soon arrive. "

At last the young detective heard the stir usually preceding thedistribution of the food. People were running to and fro, sabots clickednoisily in the corridors, and the keepers could be heard engaged in loudconversation. By and by the prison bell began to toll. It was eleveno'clock, and soon afterward the prisoner commenced to sing his favoritesong:

"Diogene! Sous ton manteau, libre et content--"

Before he commenced the third line the slight sound caused by thefragment of bread as it fell upon the stone floor caused him to pauseabruptly. 

Lecoq, at the opening in the ceiling above, was holding his breathand watching with both eyes. He did not miss one of the prisoner'smovements--not so much as the quiver of an eyelid. May looked first atthe window, and then all round the cell, as if it were impossible forhim to explain the arrival of this projectile. It was not until somelittle time had elapsed that he decided to pick it up. He held it inthe hollow of his hand, and examined it with apparent curiosity. Hisfeatures expressed intense surprise, and any one would have sworn thathe was innocent of all complicity. Soon a smile gathered round his lips, and after a slight shrug of the shoulders, which might be interpreted, "Am I a fool?" he hastily broke the pellet in half. The sight of thepaper which it contained seemed to amaze him. 

"What does all this mean?" wondered Lecoq. 

The prisoner had opened the note, and was examining with knitted browsthe figures which were apparently destitute of all meaning to him. Then, suddenly rushing to the door of his cell, and hammering upon it withclenched fists, he cried at the top of his voice: "Here! keeper! here!"

"What do you want?" shouted a turnkey, whose footsteps Lecoq could hearhastening along the adjoining passage. 

"I wish to speak to the magistrate. "

"Very well. He shall be informed. "

"Immediately, if you please. I have a revelation to make. "

"He shall be sent for immediately. "

Lecoq waited to hear no more. He tore down the narrow staircase leadingfrom the loft, and rushed to the Palais de Justice to acquaint M. Segmuller with what had happened. 

"What can all this mean?" he wondered as he darted over the pavement. "Are we indeed approaching a denouement? This much is certain, theprisoner was not deceived by my note. He could only decipher it withthe aid of his volume of Beranger, and he did not even touch the book;plainly, then, he hasn't read the letter. "

M. Segmuller was no less amazed than the young detective. They bothhastened to the prison, followed by the smiling clerk, who was themagistrate's inevitable shadow. On their way they encountered thegovernor of the Depot, arriving all in a flutter, having been greatlyexcited by that important word "revelation. " The worthy officialundoubtedly wished to express an opinion, but the magistrate checked himby the abrupt remark, "I know all about it, and I am coming. "

When they had reached the narrow corridor leading to the secret cells, Lecoq passed on in advance of the rest of the party. He said to himselfthat by stealing upon the prisoner unawares he might possibly find himengaged in surreptitiously reading the note. In any case, he would havean opportunity to glance at the interior of the cell. May was seatedbeside the table, his head resting on his hands. At the grating of thebolt, drawn by the governor himself, the prisoner rose to his feet, smoothed his hair, and remained standing in a respectful attitude, apparently waiting for the visitors to address him. 

"Did you send for me?" inquired the magistrate. 

"Yes, sir. "

"You have, I understand, some revelation to make to me. "

"I have something of importance to tell you. "

"Very well! these gentlemen will retire. "

M. Segmuller had already turned to Lecoq and the governor to requestthem to withdraw, when the prisoner motioned him not to do so. 

"It is not necessary, " said May, "I am, on the contrary, very wellpleased to speak before these gentlemen. "

"Speak, then. "

May did not wait for the injunction to be repeated. Throwing hischest forward, and his head back as had been his wont throughout hisexaminations, whenever he wished to make an oratorical display, hebegan as follows: "It shall be for you to say, gentlemen, whether I'm anhonest man or not. The profession matters little. One may, perhaps, actas the clown of a traveling show, and yet be an honest man--a man ofhonor. "

"Oh, spare us your reflections!"

"Very well, sir, that suits me exactly. To be brief, then here is alittle paper which was thrown into my cell a few minutes ago. There aresome numbers on it which may mean something; but I have examined them, and they are quite Greek to me. "

He paused, and then handing Lecoq's missive to the magistrate, quietlyadded: "It was rolled up in a bit of bread. "

This declaration was so unexpected, that it struck all the officialsdumb with surprise, but the prisoner, without seeming to notice theeffect he had produced, placidly continued: "I suppose the person whothrew it, made a mistake in the window. I know very well that it'sa mean piece of business to denounce a companion in prison. It's acowardly act and one may get into trouble by doing so; still, afellow must be prudent when he's charged with murder as I am, and withsomething very unpleasant, perhaps, in store for him. "

A terribly significant gesture of severing the head from the bodyleft no doubt whatever as to what May meant by the "something veryunpleasant. "

"And yet I am innocent, " continued May, in a sorrowful, reproachfultone. 

The magistrate had by this time recovered the full possession of hisfaculties. Fixing his eyes upon the prisoner and concentrating in onemagnetic glance all his power of will, he slowly exclaimed: "You speakfalsely! It was for you that this note was intended. "

"For me! Then I must be the greatest of fools, or why should I have sentfor you to show it you? For me? In that case, why didn't I keep it? Whoknew, who could know that I had received it?"

These words were uttered with such a marvelous semblance of honesty, May's gaze was frank and open, his voice rang so true, and his reasoningwas so specious, that all the governor's doubts returned. 

"And what if I could prove that you are uttering a falsehood?" insistedM. Segmuller. "What if I could prove it--here and now?"

"You would have to lie to do so! Oh! pardon! Excuse me; I mean--"

But the magistrate was not in a frame of mind to stickle for nicetyof expression. He motioned May to be silent; and, turning to Lecoq, exclaimed: "Show the prisoner that you have discovered the key to hissecret correspondence. "

A sudden change passed over May's features. "Ah! it is this agent ofpolice who says the letter was for me, " he remarked in an altered tone. "The same agent who asserts that I am a grand seigneur. " Then, lookingdisdainfully at Lecoq, he added: "Under these circumstances there's nohope for me. When the police are absolutely determined that a man shallbe found guilty, they contrive to prove his guilt; everybody knows that. And when a prisoner receives no letters, an agent, who wishes to showthat he is corresponding knows well enough how to write to him. "

May's features wore such an expression of marked contempt that Lecoqcould scarcely refrain from making an angry reply. He restrained hisimpulse, however, in obedience to a warning gesture from the magistrate, and taking from the table the volume of Beranger's songs, he endeavoredto prove to the prisoner that each number in the note which he had shownM. Segmuller corresponded with a word on the page indicated, andthat these various words formed several intelligible phrases. Thisoverpowering evidence did not seem to trouble May in the least. Afterexpressing the same admiration for this novel system of correspondencethat a child would show for a new toy, he declared his belief that noone could equal the police in such machinations. 

What could have been done in the face of such obstinacy? M. Segmullerdid not even attempt to argue the point, but quietly retired, followedby his companions. Until they reached the governor's office, he did notutter a word; then, sinking down into an armchair, he exclaimed: "Wemust confess ourselves beaten. This man will always remain what heis--an inexplicable enigma. "

"But what is the meaning of the comedy he has just played? I do notunderstand it at all, " remarked the governor. 

"Why, " replied Lecoq, "don't you see that he wished to persuade themagistrate that the first note, the one that fell into the cell whileyou and I were there yesterday, had been written by me in a mad desireto prove the truth of my theory at any cost? It was a hazardous project;but the importance of the result to be gained must have emboldened himto attempt it. Had he succeeded, I should have been disgraced; and hewould have remained May--the stroller, without any further doubt as tohis identity. But how could he know that I had discovered his secretcorrespondence, and that I was watching him from the loft overhead? Thatwill probably never be explained. "

The governor and the young detective exchanged glances of mutualdistrust. "Eh! eh!" thought the former, "yes, indeed, that note whichfell into the cell while I was there the other day might after all havebeen this crafty fellow's work. His Father Absinthe may have served himin the first instance just as he did subsequently. "

While these reflections were flitting through the governor's mind, Lecoqsuspiciously remarked to himself: "Who knows but what this fool ofa governor confided everything to Gevrol? If he did so, the General, jealous as he is, would not have scrupled to play one such a damagingtrick. "

His thoughts had gone no further when Goguet, the smiling clerk, boldlybroke the silence with the trite remark: "What a pity such a clevercomedy didn't succeed. "

These words startled the magistrate from his reverie. "Yes, a shamefulfarce, " said he, "and one I would never have authorized, had I not beenblinded by a mad longing to arrive at the truth. Such tricks only bringthe sacred majesty of justice into contempt!"

At these bitter words, Lecoq turned white with anger. This was thesecond affront within an hour. The prisoner had first insulted him, andnow it was the magistrate's turn. "I am defeated, " thought he. "I mustconfess it. Fate is against me! Ah! if I had only succeeded!"

Disappointment alone had impelled M. Segmuller to utter these harshwords; they were both cruel and unjust, and the magistrate soonregretted them, and did everything in his power to drive them fromLecoq's recollection. They met every day after this unfortunateincident; and every morning, when the young detective came to give anaccount of his investigations, they had a long conference together. ForLecoq still continued his efforts; still labored on with an obstinacyintensified by constant sneers; still pursued his investigations withthat cold and determined zeal which keeps one's faculties on the alertfor years. 

The magistrate, however, was utterly discouraged. "We must abandon thisattempt, " said he. "All the means of detection have been exhausted. I give it up. The prisoner will go to the Assizes, to be acquitted orcondemned under the name of May. I will trouble myself no more about thematter. "

He said this, but the anxiety and disappointment caused by defeat, sneering criticism, and perplexity, as to the best course to be pursued, so affected his health that he became really ill--so ill that he had totake to his bed. 

He had been confined to his room for a week or so, when one morningLecoq called to inquire after him. 

"You see, my good fellow, " quoth M. Segmuller, despondently, "that thismysterious murderer is fatal to us magistrates. Ah! he is too much forus; he will preserve the secret of his identity. "

"Possibly, " replied Lecoq. "At all events, there is now but one way leftto discover his secret; we must allow him to escape--and then track himto his lair. "

This expedient, although at first sight a very startling one, was not ofLecoq's own invention, nor was it by any means novel. At all times, incases of necessity, have the police closed their eyes and opened theprison doors for the release of suspected criminals. And not a few, dazzled by liberty and ignorant of being watched, have foolishlybetrayed themselves. All prisoners are not like the Marquis deLavalette, protected by royal connivance; and one might enumeratemany individuals who have been released, only to be rearrested afterconfessing their guilt to police spies or auxiliaries who have won theirconfidence. 

Naturally, however, it is but seldom, and only in special cases, and asa last resort, that such a plan is adopted. Moreover, the authoritiesonly consent to it when they hope to derive some important advantage, such as the capture of a whole band of criminals. For instance, the police perhaps arrest one of a band. Now, despite his criminalpropensities the captured culprit often has a certain sense of honor--weall know that there is honor among thieves--which prompts him to refuseall information concerning his accomplices. In such a case what is to bedone? Is he to be sent to the Assizes by himself, tried and convicted, while his comrades escape scot free? No; it is best to set him atliberty. The prison doors are opened, and he is told that he is free. But each after step he takes in the streets outside is dogged by skilfuldetectives; and soon, at the very moment when he is boasting of his goodluck and audacity to the comrades he has rejoined, the whole gang findthemselves caught in the snare. 

M. Segmuller knew all this, and much more, and yet, on hearing Lecoq'sproposition, he made an angry gesture and exclaimed: "Are you mad?"

"I think not, sir. "

"At all events your scheme is a most foolish one!"

"Why so, sir? You will recollect the famous murder of the Chaboiseaus. The police soon succeeded in capturing the guilty parties; but a robberyof a hundred and sixty thousand francs in bank-notes and coin had beencommitted at the same time, and this large sum of money couldn't befound. The murderers obstinately refused to say where they had concealedit; for, of course, it would prove a fortune for them, if they everescaped the gallows. In the mean while, however, the children of thevictims were ruined. Now, M. Patrigent, the magistrate who investigatedthe affair, was the first to convince the authorities that it would bebest to set one of the murderers at liberty. His advice was followed;and three days later the culprit was surprised unearthing the money fromamong a bed of mushrooms. Now, I believe that our prisoner--"

"Enough!" interrupted M. Segmuller. "I wish to hear no more on thematter. I have, it seems to me, forbidden you to broach the subject. "

The young detective hung his head with a hypocritical air of submission. But all the while he watched the magistrate out of the corner of his eyeand noted his agitation. "I can afford to be silent, " he thought; "hewill return to the subject of his own accord. "

And in fact M. Segmuller did return to it only a moment afterward. "Suppose this man were released from prison, " said he, "what would youdo?"

"What would I do, sir! I would follow him like grim death; I would notonce let him out of my sight; I would be his shadow. "

"And do you suppose he wouldn't discover this surveillance?"

"I should take my precautions. "

"But he would recognize you at a single glance. "

"No, sir, he wouldn't, for I should disguise myself. A detective whocan't equal the most skilful actor in the matter of make-up is nobetter than an ordinary policeman. I have only practised at it for atwelvemonth, but I can easily make myself look old or young, dark orlight, or assume the manner of a man of the world, or of some frightfulruffian of the barrieres. "

"I wasn't aware that you possessed this talent, Monsieur Lecoq. "

"Oh! I'm very far from the perfection I hope to arrive at; though I mayventure to say that in three days from now I could call on you and talkwith you for half an hour without being recognized. "

M. Segmuller made no rejoinder; and it was evident to Lecoq that themagistrate had offered this objection rather in the hope of its beingoverruled, than with the wish to see it prevail. 

"I think, my poor fellow, " he at length observed, "that you arestrangely deceived. We have both been equally anxious to penetratethe mystery that enshrouds this strange man. We have both admiredhis wonderful acuteness--for his sagacity is wonderful; so marvelous, indeed, that it exceeds the limits of imagination. Do you believe thata man of his penetration would betray himself like an ordinary prisoner?He will understand at once, if he is set at liberty, that his freedom isonly given him so that we may surprise his secret. "

"I don't deceive myself, sir. May will guess the truth of course. I'mquite aware of that. "

"Very well. Then, what would be the use of attempting what you propose?"

"I have come to this conclusion, " replied Lecoq, "May will find himselfstrangely embarrassed, even when he's set free. He won't have a souin his pocket; we know he has no trade, so what will he do to earn aliving? He may struggle along for a while; but he won't be willing tosuffer long. Man must have food and shelter, and when he finds himselfwithout a roof over his head, without even a crust of bread to break, hewill remember that he is rich. Won't he then try to recover possessionof his property? Yes, certainly he will. He will try to obtain money, endeavor to communicate with his friends, and I shall wait till thatmoment arrives. Months may elapse, before, seeing no signs of mysurveillance, he may venture on some decisive step; and then I willspring forward with a warrant for his arrest in my hand. "

"And what if he should leave Paris? What if he should go abroad?"

"Oh, I will follow him. One of my aunts has left me a little land in theprovinces worth about twelve thousand francs. I will sell it, and spendthe last sou, if necessary, so long as I only have my revenge. This manhas outwitted me as if I were a child, and I must have my turn. "

"And what if he should slip through your fingers?"

Lecoq laughed like a man that was sure of himself. "Let him try, " heexclaimed; "I will answer for him with my life. "

"Your idea is not a bad one, " said M. Segmuller, eventually. "Butyou must understand that law and justice will take no part in suchintrigues. All I can promise you is my tacit approval. Go, therefore, tothe Prefecture; see your superiors--"

With a really despairing gesture, the young man interrupted M. Segmuller. "What good would it do for me to make such a proposition?"he exclaimed. "They would not only refuse my request, but they woulddismiss me on the spot, if my name is not already erased from the roll. "

"What, dismissed, after conducting this case so well?"

"Ah, sir, unfortunately every one is not of that opinion. Tongues havebeen wagging busily during your illness. Somehow or other, my enemieshave heard of the last scene we had with May; and impudently declarethat it was I who imagined all the romantic details of this affair, being eager for advancement. They pretend that the only reasons to doubtthe prisoner's identity are those I have invented myself. To hear themtalk at the Depot, one might suppose that I invented the scene in theWidow Chupin's cabin; imagined the accomplices; suborned the witnesses;manufactured the articles of conviction; wrote the first note incipher as well as the second; duped Father Absinthe, and mystified thegovernor. "

"The deuce!" exclaimed M. Segmuller; "in that case, what do they thinkof me?"

The wily detective's face assumed an expression of intenseembarrassment. 

"Ah! sir, " he replied with a great show of reluctance, "they pretendthat you have allowed yourself to be deceived by me, and that youhaven't weighed at their proper worth the proofs I've furnished. "

A fleeting flush mantled over M. Segmuller's forehead. "In a word, " saidhe, "they think I'm your dupe--and a fool besides. "

The recollection of certain sarcastic smiles he had often detected onthe faces of colleagues and subordinates alike, the memory ofnumerous covert allusions to Casper Hauser, and the Man with theIron Mask--allusions which had stung him to the quick--induced him tohesitate no longer. 

"Very well! I will aid you, Monsieur Lecoq, " he exclaimed. "I shouldlike you to triumph over your enemies. I will get up at once andaccompany you to the Palais de Justice. I will see the public prosecutormyself; I will speak to him, and plead your case for you. "

Lecoq's joy was intense. Never, no never, had he dared to hope for suchassistance. Ah! after this he would willingly go through fire on M. Segmuller's behalf. And yet, despite his inward exultation, he hadsufficient control over his feelings to preserve a sober face. Thisvictory must be concealed under penalty of forfeiting the benefits thatmight accrue from it. Certainly, the young detective had said nothingthat was untrue; but there are different ways of presenting the truth, and he had, perhaps, exaggerated a trifle in order to excite themagistrate's rancor, and win his needful assistance. 

"I suppose, " remarked M. Segmuller, who was now quite calm again--nooutward sign of wounded vanity being perceptible--"I suppose youhave decided what stratagem must be employed to lull the prisoner'ssuspicions if he is permitted to escape. "

"I must confess I haven't given it a thought, " replied Lecoq. "Besides, what good would any such stratagem do? He knows too well that he isthe object of suspicion not to remain on the alert. Still, there is oneprecaution which I believe absolutely necessary, indispensable indeed, if we wish to be successful. "

"What precaution do you mean?" inquired the magistrate. 

"Well, sir, I think an order should be given to have May transferred toanother prison. It doesn't in the least matter which; you can select theone you please. "

"Why should we do that?"

"Because, during the few days preceding his release, it is absolutelynecessary he should hold no communication with his friends outside, andthat he should be unable to warn his accomplice. "

"Then you think he's badly guarded where he is?" inquired M. Segmullerwith seeming amazement. 

"No, sir, I did not say that. I am satisfied that since the affairof the cipher note the governor's vigilance has been unimpeachable. However, news from outside certainly reaches the suspected murdererat the Depot; we have had material evidence--full proof of that--andbesides--"

The young detective paused in evident embarrassment. He plainly had someidea in his head to which he feared to give expression. 

"And besides?" repeated the magistrate. 

"Ah, well, sir! I will be perfectly frank with you. I find that Gevrolenjoys too much liberty at the Depot; he is perfectly at home there, hecomes and goes as he likes, and no one ever thinks of asking what he isdoing, where he is going, or what he wants. No pass is necessary for hisadmission, and he can influence the governor just as he likes. Now, totell the truth, I distrust Gevrol. "

"Oh! Monsieur Lecoq!"

"Yes, I know very well that it's a bold accusation, but a man is notmaster of his presentiments: so there it is, I distrust Gevrol. Didthe prisoner know that I was watching him from the loft, and that I haddiscovered his secret correspondence, was he ignorant of it? To my mindhe evidently knew everything, as the last scene we had with him proves. "

"I must say that's my own opinion, " interrupted M. Segmuller. 

"But how could he have known it?" resumed Lecoq. "He could not havediscovered it by himself. I endured tortures for a while in the hope ofsolving the problem. But all my trouble was wasted. Now the suppositionof Gevrol's intervention would explain everything. "

M. Segmuller had turned pale with anger. "Ah! if I could really believethat!" he exclaimed; "if I were sure of it! Have you any proofs?"

The young man shook his head. "No, " said he, "I haven't; but even if myhands were full of proofs I should not dare to show them. I shouldruin my future. Ah, if ever I succeed, I must expect many such acts oftreachery. There is hatred and rivalry in every profession. And, markthis, sir--I don't doubt Gevrol's honesty. If a hundred thousand francswere counted out upon the table and offered to him, he wouldn't even tryto release a prisoner. But he would rob justice of a dozen criminals inthe mere hope of injuring me, jealous as he is, and fearing lest I mightobtain advancement. "

How many things these simple words explained. Did they not give the keyto many and many an enigma which justice has failed to solve, simply onaccount of the jealousy and rivalry that animate the detective force?Thus thought M. Segmuller, but he had no time for further reflection. 

"That will do, " said he, "go into the drawing-room for a moment. I willdress and join you there. I will send for a cab: for we must make hasteif I am to see the public prosecutor to-day. "

Less than a quarter of an hour afterward M. Segmuller, who usually spentconsiderable time over his toilet, was dressed and ready to start. Heand Lecoq were just getting into the cab that had been summoned when afootman in a stylish livery was seen approaching. 

"Ah! Jean, " exclaimed the magistrate, "how's your master?"

"Improving, sir, " was the reply. "He sent me to ask how you were, and toinquire how that affair was progressing?"

"There has been no change since I last wrote to him. Give him mycompliments, and tell him that I am out again. "

The servant bowed. Lecoq took a seat beside the magistrate and the cabstarted off. 

"That fellow is one of D'Escorval's servants, " remarked M. Segmuller. "He's richer than I, and can well afford to keep a footman. "

"D'Escorval's, " ejaculated Lecoq, "the magistrate who--"

"Precisely. He sent his man to me two or three days ago to ascertainwhat we were doing with our mysterious May. "

"Then M. D'Escorval is interested in the case?"

"Prodigiously! I conclude it is because he opened the prosecution, andbecause the case rightfully belongs to him. Perhaps he regrets thatit passed out of his hands, and thinks that he could have managed theinvestigation better himself. We would have done better with it if wecould. I would give a good deal to see him in my place. "

But this change would not have been at all to Lecoq's taste. "Ah, "thought he, "such a fellow as D'Escorval would never have shown me suchconfidence as M. Segmuller. " He had, indeed, good reason to congratulatehimself: for that very day M. Segmuller, who was a man of his word, a man who never rested until he had carried his plan into execution, actually induced the authorities to allow May to be set at liberty; andthe details of this measure only remained to be decided upon. As regardsthe proposed transfer of the suspected murderer to another prison, thiswas immediately carried into effect, and May was removed to Mazas, whereLecoq had no fear of Gevrol's interference. 

That same afternoon, moreover, the Widow Chupin received her conditionalrelease. There was no difficulty as regards her son, Polyte. He had, inthe mean time, been brought before the correctional court on a chargeof theft; and, to his great astonishment, had heard himself sentenced tothirteen months' imprisonment. After this, M. Segmuller had nothingto do but to wait, and this was the easier as the advent of the Easterholidays gave him an opportunity to seek a little rest and recreationwith his family in the provinces. 

On the day he returned to Paris--the last of the recess, and by chancea Sunday--he was sitting alone in his library when his cook came totell him that there was a man in the vestibule who had been sent froma neighboring register office to take the place of a servant he hadrecently dismissed. The newcomer was ushered into the magistrate'spresence and proved to be a man of forty or thereabouts, very red inthe face and with carroty hair and whiskers. He was, moreover, stronglyinclined to corpulence, and was clad in clumsy, ill-fitting garments. In a complacent tone, and with a strong Norman accent, he informedthe magistrate that during the past twenty years he had been in theemployment of various literary men, as well as of a physician, andnotary; that he was familiar with the duties that would be requiredof him at the Palais de Justice, and that he knew how to dust paperswithout disarranging them. In short, he produced such a favorableimpression that, although M. Segmuller reserved twenty-four hours inwhich to make further inquiries, he drew a twenty-franc piece from hispocket on the spot and tendered it to the Norman valet as the firstinstalment of his wages. 

But instead of pocketing the proffered coin, the man, with a suddenchange of voice and attitude, burst into a hearty laugh, exclaiming: "Doyou think, sir, that May will recognize me?"

"Monsieur Lecoq!" cried the astonished magistrate. 

"The same, sir; and I have come to tell you that if you are ready torelease May, all my arrangements are now completed. "

XX

When one of the investigating magistrates of the Tribunal of the Seinewishes to examine a person confined in one of the Paris prisons, he sends by his messenger to the governor of that particular jail aso-called "order of extraction, " a concise, imperative formula, whichreads as follows: "The keeper of ---- prison will give into the custodyof the bearer of this order the prisoner known as ----, in order thathe may be brought before us in our cabinet at the Palais de Justice. " Nomore, no less, a signature, a seal, and everybody is bound to obey. 

But from the moment of receiving this order until the prisoner isagain incarcerated, the governor of the prison is relieved of allresponsibility. Whatever may happen, his hands are clear. Minuteprecautions are taken, however, so that a prisoner may not escape duringhis journey from the prison to the Palais. He is carefully locked up ina compartment of one of the lugubrious vehicles that may be oftenseen waiting on the Quai de l'Horloge, or in the courtyard of theSainte-Chapelle. This van conveys him to the Palais, and while he isawaiting examination, he is immured in one of the cells of the gloomyjail, familiarly known as "la Souriciere" or the "mouse-trap. " Onentering and leaving the van the prisoner is surrounded by guards; andon the road, in addition to the mounted troopers who always accompanythese vehicles, there are prison warders or linesmen of the Garde deParis installed in the passage between the compartments of the vanand seated on the box with the driver. Hence, the boldest criminalsordinarily realize the impossibility of escaping from this ambulatoryprison. 

Indeed, statistics record only thirty attempts at escape in a periodof ten years. Of these thirty attempts, twenty-five were ridiculousfailures; four were discovered before their authors had conceivedany serious hope of success: and only one man actually succeeded inalighting from the vehicle, and even he had not taken fifty steps beforehe was recaptured. 

Lecoq was well acquainted with all these facts, and in preparingeverything for May's escape, his only fear was lest the murderer mightdecline to profit of the opportunity. Hence, it was necessary to offerevery possible inducement for flight. The plan the young detective hadeventually decided on consisted in sending an order to Mazas for May tobe despatched to the Palais de Justice. He could be placed in one of theprison vans, and at the moment of starting the door of his compartmentwould not be perfectly secured. When the van reached the Palaisde Justice and discharged its load of criminals at the door of the"mouse-trap" May would purposely be forgotten and left in the vehicle, while the latter waited on the Quai de l'Horloge until the hour ofreturning to Mazas. It was scarcely possible that the prisoner wouldfail to embrace this apparently favorable opportunity to make hisescape. 

Everything was, therefore, prepared and arranged according to Lecoq'sdirections on the Monday following the close of the Easter holidays; therequisite "order of extraction" being entrusted to an intelligent manwith the most minute instructions. 

Now, although the van in which May would journey was not to be expectedat the Palais de Justice before noon, it so happened that at nineo'clock that same morning a queer-looking "loafer" having the aspectof an overgrown, overaged "gamin de Paris" might have been seen hangingabout the Prefecture de Police. He wore a tattered black woolen blouseand a pair of wide, ill-fitting trousers, fastened about his waist bya leather strap. His boots betrayed a familiar acquaintance with thepuddles of the barrieres, and his cap was shabby and dirty, though, onthe other hand, his necktie, a pretentious silk scarf of flaming hue, was evidently quite fresh from some haberdasher's shop. No doubt it wasa present from his sweetheart. 

This uncomely being had the unhealthy complexion, hollow eyes, slouchingmien, and straggling beard common to his tribe. His yellow hair, cutclosely at the back of the head, as if to save the trouble of brushing, was long in front and at the sides; being plastered down over hisforehead and advancing above his ears in extravagant corkscrew ringlets. 

What with his attire, his affected jaunty step, his alternate raising ofeither shoulder, and his way of holding his cigarette and of ejecting astream of saliva from between his teeth, Polyte Chupin, had he beenat liberty, would undoubtedly have proffered a paw, and greeted thisbarriere beauty as a "pal. "

It was the 14th of April; the weather was lovely, and, on the horizon, the youthful foliage of the chestnut trees in the Tuileries gardensstood out against a bright blue sky. The "ethereal mildness" of "gentlespring" seemed to have a positive charm for the tattered "loafer" wholazily loitered in the sunlight, dividing his attention between thepassers-by and some men who were hauling sand from the banks of theSeine. Occasionally, however, he crossed the roadway, and, strangeto say, exchanged a few remarks with a neatly dressed, long-beardedgentleman, who wore gold-rimmed spectacles over his nose and drabsilk gloves on his hands. This individual exhibited all the outwardcharacteristics of eminent respectability, and seemed to take aremarkable interest in the contents of an optician's shop window. 

Every now and then a policeman or an agent of the detective corpspassed by on his way to the Prefecture, and the elderly gentleman orthe "loafer" would at times run after these officials to ask for sometrifling information. The person addressed replied and passed on; andthen the "loafer" and the gentleman would join each other and laughinglyexclaim: "Good!--there's another who doesn't recognize us. "

And in truth the pair had just cause for exultation, good reason to beproud, for of some twelve or fifteen comrades they accosted, not onerecognized the two detectives, Lecoq and Father Absinthe. For the"loafer" was none other than our hero, and the gentleman of such eminentrespectability his faithful lieutenant. 

"Ah!" quoth the latter with admiration, "I am not surprised they don'trecognize me, since I can't recognize myself. No one but you, MonsieurLecoq, could have so transformed me. "

Unfortunately for Lecoq's vanity, the good fellow spoke at a momentwhen the time for idle conversation had passed. The prison van was justcrossing the bridge at a brisk trot. 

"Attention!" exclaimed the young detective, "there comes our friend!Quick!--to your post; remember my directions, and keep your eyes open!"

Near them, on the quay, was a large pile of timber, behind which FatherAbsinthe immediately concealed himself, while Lecoq, seizing a spadethat was lying idle, hurried to a little distance and began digging inthe sand. They did well to make haste. The van came onward and turnedthe corner. It passed the two detectives, and with a noisy clang rolledunder the heavy arch leading to "la Souriciere. " May was inside, asLecoq assured himself on recognizing the keeper sitting beside thedriver. 

The van remained in the courtyard for more than a quarter of an hour. When it reappeared, the driver had left his perch and the quay oppositethe Palais de Justice, threw a covering over his horses, lighted hispipe, and quietly walked away. The moment for action was now swiftlyapproaching. 

For a few minutes the anxiety of the two watchers amounted to actualagony; nothing stirred--nothing moved. But at last the door of the vanwas opened with infinite caution, and a pale, frightened face becamevisible. It was the face of May. The prisoner cast a rapid glance aroundhim. No one was in sight. Then as swiftly and as stealthily as a cat hesprang to the ground, noiselessly closed the door of the vehicle, andwalked quietly toward the bridge. 

Lecoq breathed again. He had been asking himself if some triflingcircumstance could have been forgotten or neglected, thus disarrangingall his plans. He had been wondering if this strange man would refusethe dangerous liberty which had been offered him. But he had beenanxious without cause. May had fled; not thoughtlessly, but withpremeditation. 

From the moment when he was left alone, apparently forgotten, in theinsecurely locked compartment, until he opened the door and glancedaround him, sufficient time had elapsed for a man of his intellect anddiscernment to analyze and calculate all the chances of so grave a step. Hence, if he had stepped into the snare laid for him, it must be witha full knowledge of the risks he had to run. He and Lecoq were alonetogether, free in the streets of Paris, armed with mutual distrust, equally obliged to resort to strategy, and forced to hide from eachother. Lecoq, it is true, had an auxiliary--Father Absinthe. But whocould say that May would not be aided by his redoubtable accomplice?Hence, it was a veritable duel, the result of which depended entirelyupon the courage, skill, and coolness of the antagonists. 

All these thoughts flashed through the young detective's brain with thequickness of lightning. Throwing down his spade, and running toward asergeant de ville, who was just coming out of the Palais de Justice, he gave him a letter which was ready in his pocket. "Take this to M. Segmuller at once; it is a matter of importance, " said he. 

The policeman attempted to question this "loafer" who was incorrespondence with the magistrates; but Lecoq had already darted off onthe prisoner's trail. 

May had covered but a short distance. He was sauntering along with hishands in his pockets; his head high in the air, his manner composed andfull of assurance. Had he reflected that it would be dangerous to runwhile so near the prison from which he had just escaped? Or was he ofopinion that as an opportunity of flight had been willingly furnishedhim, there was no danger of immediate rearrest? This was a point Lecoqcould not decide. At all events, May showed no signs of quickening hispace even after crossing the bridge; and it was with the same tranquilmanner that he next crossed the Quai aux Fleurs and turned into the Huede la Cite. 

Nothing in his bearing or appearance proclaimed him to be an escapedprisoner. Since his trunk--that famous trunk which he pretended to haveleft at the Hotel de Mariembourg--had been returned to him, he had beenwell supplied with clothing: and he never failed, when summoned beforethe magistrate, to array himself in his best apparel. The garments hewore that day were black cloth, and their cut, combined with his manner, gave him the appearance of a working man of the better class taking aholiday. 

His tread, hitherto firm and decided, suddenly became uncertain when, after crossing the Seine, he reached the Rue St. Jacques. He walked moreslowly, frequently hesitated, and glanced continually at the shops oneither side of the way. 

"Evidently he is seeking something, " thought Lecoq: "but what?"

It was not long before he ascertained. Seeing a second-hand-clothes shopclose by, May entered in evident haste. Lecoq at once stationed himselfunder a gateway on the opposite side of the street, and pretended to bebusily engaged lighting a cigarette. The criminal being momentarily outof sight, Father Absinthe thought he could approach without danger. 

"Ah, well, " said he, "there's our man changing his fine clothes forcoarser garments. He will ask for the difference in money; and they willgive it him. You told me this morning: 'May without a sou'--that's thetrump card in our game!"

"Nonsense! Before we begin to lament, let us wait and see what happens. It is not likely that shopkeeper will give him any money. He won't buyclothing of the first passer-by. "

Father Absinthe withdrew to a little distance. He distrusted thesereasons, but not Lecoq who gave them. 

In the mean while, in his secret soul, Lecoq was cursing himself. Another blunder, thought he, another weapon left in the hands of theenemy. How was it that he, who fancied himself so shrewd, had notforeseen this emergency? Calmness of mind returned, however, a momentafterward when he saw May emerge from the shop attired as when heentered it. Luck had for once been in the young detective's favor. 

May actually staggered when he stepped out on the pavement. His bitterdisappointment could be read in his countenance, which disclosed theanguish of a drowning man who sees the frail plank which was his onlyhope of salvation snatched from his grasp by the ruthless waves. 

What could have taken place? This Lecoq must know without a moment'sdelay. He gave a peculiar whistle, to warn his companion that hemomentarily abandoned the pursuit of him; and having received a similarsignal in response, he entered the shop. The owner was still standingbehind the counter. Lecoq wasted no time in parleying. He merely showedhis card to acquaint the man with his profession, and curtly asked:"What did the fellow want who was just in here?"

The shopkeeper seemed embarrassed. "It's a long story, " he stammered. 

"Then tell it!" said Lecoq, surprised at the man's hesitation. 

"Oh, it's very simple. About twelve days ago a man entered my shop witha bundle under his arm. He claimed to be a countryman of mine. "

"Are you an Alsatian?"

"Yes, sir. Well, I went with this man to the wine-shop at the corner, where he ordered a bottle of good wine; and while we drank together, heasked me if I would consent to keep the package he had with him untilone of his cousins came to claim it. To prevent any mistake, this cousinwas to say certain words--a countersign, as it were. I refused, shortlyand decidedly, for the very month before I had got into trouble and hadbeen charged with receiving stolen goods, all by obliging a person inthis way. Well, you never saw a man so vexed and so surprised. What mademe all the more determined in my refusal was that he offered me a goodround sum in payment for my trouble. This only increased my suspicion, and I persisted in my refusal. "

The shopkeeper paused to take breath; but Lecoq was on fire withimpatience. "And what then?" he insisted. 

"Well, he paid for the wine and went away. I had forgotten all about thematter until that man came in here just now, and after asking me if Ihadn't a package for him, which had been left by one of his cousins, began to say some peculiar words--the countersign, no doubt. When Ireplied that I had nothing at all he turned as white as his shirt; andI thought he was going to faint. All my suspicions came back to me. Sowhen he afterward proposed that I should buy his clothes, I told him Icouldn't think of it. "

All this was plain enough to Lecoq. "And this cousin who was here afortnight ago, what was he like?" asked he. 

"He was a tall, rather corpulent man, with a ruddy complexion, and whitewhiskers. Ah! I should recognize him in an instant!"

"The accomplice!" exclaimed Lecoq. 

"What did you say?"

"Nothing that would interest you. Thank you. I am in a hurry. You willsee me again; good morning. "

Lecoq had not remained five minutes in the shop: and yet, when heemerged, May and Father Absinthe were nowhere in sight. Still, the youngdetective was not at all uneasy on that score. In making arrangementswith his old colleague for this pursuit Lecoq had foreseen such asituation, and it had been agreed that if one of them were obliged toremain behind, the other, who was closely following May, should fromtime to time make chalk marks on the walls, shutters, and facings of theshops, so as to indicate the route, and enable his companion to rejoinhim. Hence, in order to know which way to go, Lecoq had only to glanceat the buildings around him. The task was neither long nordifficult, for on the front of the third shop beyond that of thesecond-hand-clothes dealer a superb dash of the crayon instructed him toturn into the Rue Saint-Jacques. 

On he rushed in that direction, his mind busy at work with the incidentthat had just occurred. What a terrible warning that old-clothesdealer's declaration had been! Ah! that mysterious accomplice was aman of foresight. He had even done his utmost to insure his comrade'ssalvation in the event of his being allowed to escape. What did thepackage the shopkeeper had spoken of contain? Clothes, no doubt. Everything necessary for a complete disguise--money, papers, a forgedpassport most likely. 

While these thoughts were rushing through Lecoq's mind, he had reachedthe Rue Soufflot, where he paused for an instant to learn his wayfrom the walls. This was the work of a second. A long chalk mark on awatchmaker's shop pointed to the Boulevard Saint-Michel, whither theyoung detective at once directed his steps. "The accomplice, " said he tohimself, resuming his meditation, "didn't succeed with that old-clothesdealer; but he isn't a man to be disheartened by one rebuff. He hascertainly taken other measures. How shall I divine what they are inorder to defeat them?"

The supposed murderer had crossed the Boulevard Saint-Michel, and hadthen taken to the Rue Monsieur-le-Prince, as Father Absinthe's dashes ofthe crayon proclaimed with many eloquent flourishes. 

"One circumstance reassures me, " the young detective murmured, "May'sgoing to this shop, and his consternation on finding that there wasnothing for him there. The accomplice had informed him of his plans, buthad not been able to inform him of their failure. Hence, from this hour, the prisoner is left to his own resources. The chain that bound him tohis accomplice is broken; there is no longer an understanding betweenthem. Everything depends now upon keeping them apart. Yes, everythinglies in that!"

Ah! how Lecoq rejoiced that he had succeeded in having May transferredto another prison; for he was convinced that the accomplice had warnedMay of the attempt he was going to make with the old-clothes dealer onthe very evening before May's removal to Mazas. Hence, it had notbeen possible to acquaint him with the failure of this scheme or thesubstitution of another. 

Still following the chalk marks, Lecoq now reached the Odeon theatre. Here were fresh signs, and what was more, Father Absinthe couldbe perceived under the colonnade, standing in front of one of thebook-stalls, and apparently engrossed in the contemplation of a print. 

Assuming the nonchalant manner of the loafer whose garb he wore, Lecoqtook his stand beside his colleague. "Where is he?" asked the youngdetective. 

"There, " replied his companion, with a slight movement of his head inthe direction of the steps. 

The fugitive was, indeed, seated on one of the steps at the side ofthe theatre, his elbows resting on his knees and his face hidden in hishands, as if he felt the necessity of concealing the expression of hisface from the passers-by. Undoubtedly, at that moment, he gave himselfup for lost. Alone in the midst of Paris, without a penny, what was tobecome of him? He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was beingwatched; that his steps were being dogged, that the first attempt hemade to inform his accomplice of his whereabouts would cost him hissecret--the secret which he plainly held as more precious than lifeitself, and which, by immense sacrifices, he had so far been able topreserve. 

Having for some short time contemplated in silence this unfortunate manwhom after all he could but esteem and admire, Lecoq turned to his oldcompanion: "What did he do on the way?" he asked. 

"He went into the shops of five dealers in second-hand clothing withoutsuccess. Then he addressed a man who was passing with a lot of oldrubbish on his shoulder: but the man wouldn't even answer him. "

Lecoq nodded his head thoughtfully. "The moral of this is, that there'sa vast difference between theory and practise, " he remarked. "Here's afellow who has made some most discerning men believe that he's onlya poor devil, a low buffoon. Well, now he's free; and this so-calledBohemian doesn't even know how to go to work to sell the clothes onhis back. The comedian who could play his part so well on the stage hasdisappeared; while the man remains--the man who has always been rich, and knows nothing of the vicissitudes of life. "

The young detective suddenly ceased moralizing, for May had risen fromhis seat. Lecoq was only ten yards distant, and could see that his facewas pallid. His attitude expressed profound dejection and one could readhis indecision in his eyes. Perhaps he was wondering if it would notbe best to return and place himself again in the hands of his jailers, since he was without the resources upon which he had depended. 

After a little, however, he shook off the torpor that had for a timeoverpowered him; his eyes brightened, and, with a gesture of defiance, he left the steps, crossed the open square and walked down the Rue del'Ancienne-Comedie. He strode onward now with the brisk, determined stepof a man who has a definite aim in view. 

"Who knows where he is going now?" murmured Father Absinthe, as hetrotted along by Lecoq's side. 

"I do, " replied the young detective. "And the proof is, that I am goingto leave you, and run on in advance, to prepare for his reception. Imay be mistaken, however, and as we must be prepared for any emergency, leave me the chalk-marks as you go along. If our man doesn't come tothe Hotel de Mariembourg, as I think he will, I shall come back here tostart in pursuit of you again. "

Just then an empty cab chanced to be passing, and Lecoq hastily got intoit, telling the driver to take him to the Northern Railway Station bythe shortest route and as quickly as possible. As time was precious, hehanded the cabman his fare while on the road, and then began to searchhis pocket-book, among the various documents confided to him by M. Segmuller, for a particular paper he would now require. 

Scarcely had the cab stopped at the Place de Roubaix than the youngdetective alighted and ran toward the Hotel de Mariembourg, where, ason the occasion of his first visit, he found Madame Milner standing on achair in front of her birdcage, obstinately trying to teach her starlingGerman, while the bird with equal obstinacy repeated: "Camille! where isCamille?"

On perceiving the individual of questionable mien who had presumedto cross her threshold, the pretty widow did not deign to change herposition. 

"What do you want?" she asked in a curt, sharp voice. 

"I am the nephew of a messenger at the Palais de Justice, " replied Lecoqwith an awkward bow, in perfect keeping with his attire. "On going tosee my uncle this morning, I found him laid up with rheumatism; and heasked me to bring you this paper in his stead. It is a summons for youto appear at once before the investigating magistrate. "

This reply induced Madame Milner to abandon her perch. "Very well, " shereplied after glancing at the summons; "give me time to throw a shawlover my shoulder, and I'll start. "

Lecoq withdrew with another awkward bow; but he had not reached thestreet before a significant grimace betrayed his inward satisfaction. She had duped him once, and now he had repaid her. On looking round himhe perceived a half-built house at the corner of the Rue St. Quentin, and being momentarily in want of a hiding-place he concluded that hehad best conceal himself there. The pretty widow had only asked forsufficient time to slip on a shawl before starting; but then itso happened that she was rather particular as to her personalappearance--and such a plump, attractive little body as herself, havingan eye perhaps to renewed wedlock, could not possibly be expected totie her bonnet strings in less than a quarter of an hour. Hence, Lecoq'ssojourn behind the scaffolding of the half-built house proved ratherlonger than he had expected, and at the thought that May might arrive atany moment he fairly trembled with anxiety. How much was he in advanceof the fugitive? Half an hour, perhaps! And he had accomplished onlyhalf his task. 

At last, however, the coquettish landlady made her appearance as radiantas a spring morning. She probably wished to make up for the time she hadspent over her toilet, for as she turned the corner she began to run. Lecoq waited till she was out of sight, and then bounding from his placeof concealment, he burst into the Hotel de Mariembourg like a bombshell. 

Fritz, the Bavarian lad, must have been warned that the house was to beleft in his sole charge for some hours; for having comfortably installedhimself in his mistress's own particular armchair, with his legs restingon another one, he had already commenced to fall asleep. 

"Wake up!" shouted Lecoq; "wake up!"

At the sound of this voice, which rang like a trumpet blast, Fritzsprang to his feet, frightened half out of his wits. 

"You see that I am an agent of the Prefecture of Police, " said thevisitor, showing his card. "Now, if you wish to avoid all sorts ofdisagreeable things, the least of which will be a sojourn in prison, youmust obey me. "

The boy trembled in every limb. "Yes, mein Herr--Monsieur, I mean--Iwill obey you, " he stammered. "But what am I to do?"

"Oh, very little. A man is coming here in a moment: you will know him byhis black clothes and his long beard. You must answer him word for wordas I tell you. And remember, if you make any mistake, you will sufferfor it. "

"You may rely upon me, sir, " replied Fritz. "I have an excellentmemory. "

The prospect of imprisonment had terrified him into abject submission. He spoke the truth; he would have been willing to say or do anythingjust then. Lecoq profited by this disposition; and then clearly andconcisely gave the lad his instructions. "And now, " added he, "I mustsee and hear you. Where can I hide myself?"

Fritz pointed to a glass door. "In the dark room there, sir. By leavingthe door ajar you can hear and you can see everything through theglass. "

Without another word Lecoq darted into the room in question. Not amoment too soon, however, for the bell of the outer door announced thearrival of a visitor. It was May. "I wish to speak to the landlady, " hesaid. 

"What landlady?" replied the lad. 

"The person who received me when I came here six weeks ago--"

"Oh, I understand, " interrupted Fritz; "it's Madame Milner you want tosee; but you have come too late; she sold the house about a month ago, and has gone back to Alsace. "

May stamped his foot and uttered a terrible oath. "I have come to claimsomething from her, " he insisted. 

"Do you want me to call her successor?"

Concealed behind the glass door, Lecoq could not help admiring Fritz, who was uttering these glaring falsehoods with that air of perfectcandor which gives the Germans such a vast advantage over the Latinraces, who seem to be lying even when they are telling the truth. 

"Her successor would order me off, " exclaimed May. "I came to reclaimthe money I paid for a room I never occupied. "

"Such money is never refunded. "

May uttered some incoherent threat, in which such words as "downrightrobbery" and "justice" could be distinguished, and then abruptly walkedback into the street, slamming the door behind him. 

"Well! did I answer properly?" asked Fritz triumphantly as Lecoq emergedfrom his hiding-place. 

"Yes, perfectly, " replied the detective. And then pushing aside the boy, who was standing in his way, he dashed after May. 

A vague fear almost suffocated him. It had struck him that the fugitivehad not been either surprised or deeply affected by the news hehad heard. He had come to the hotel depending upon Madame Milner'sassistance, and the news of this woman's departure would naturally havealarmed him, for was she not the mysterious accomplice's confidentialfriend? Had May, then, guessed the trick that had been played upon him?And if so, how?

Lecoq's good sense told him plainly that the fugitive must have beenput on his guard, and on rejoining Father Absinthe, he immediatelyexclaimed: "May spoke to some one on his way to the hotel. "

"Why, how could you know that?" exclaimed the worthy man, greatlyastonished. 

"Ah! I was sure of it! Who did he speak to?"

"To a very pretty woman, upon my word!--fair and plump as a partridge!"

"Ah! fate is against us!" exclaimed Lecoq with an oath. "I run on inadvance to Madame Milner's house, so that May shan't see her. I inventan excuse to send her out of the hotel, and yet they meet each other. "

Father Absinthe gave a despairing gesture. "Ah! if I had known!" hemurmured; "but you did not tell me to prevent May from speaking to thepassers-by. "

"Never mind, my old friend, " said Lecoq, consolingly; "it couldn't havebeen helped. "

While this conversation was going on, the fugitive had reached theFaubourg Montmartre, and his pursuers were obliged to hasten forward andget closer to their man, so that they might not lose him in the crowd. 

"Now, " resumed Lecoq when they had overtaken him, "give me theparticulars. Where did they meet?"

"In the Rue Saint-Quentin. "

"Which saw the other first?"

"May. "

"What did the woman say? Did you hear any cry of surprise?"

"I heard nothing, for I was quite fifty yards off; but by the woman'smanner I could see she was stupefied. "

Ah! if Lecoq could have witnessed the scene, what valuable deductions hemight have drawn from it. "Did they talk for a long time?" he asked. 

"For less than a quarter of an hour. "

"Do you know whether Madame Milner gave May money or not?"

"I can't say. They gesticulated like mad--so violently, indeed, that Ithought they were quarreling. "

"They knew they were being watched, and were endeavoring to divertsuspicion. "

"If they would only arrest this woman and question her, " suggestedFather Absinthe. 

"What good would it do? Hasn't M. Segmuller examined and cross-examinedher a dozen times without drawing anything from her! Ah! she's a cunningone. She would declare that May met her and insisted that she shouldrefund the ten francs he paid her for his room. We must do our best, however. If the accomplice has not been warned already, he will soonbe told; so we must try to keep the two men apart. What ruse they willemploy, I can't divine. But I know that it will be nothing hackneyed. "

Lecoq's presumptions made Father Absinthe nervous. "The surest way, perhaps, " ventured the latter, "would be to lock him up again!"

"No!" replied the young detective. "I want his secret, and I'll have it. What will be said of us if we two allow this man to escape us? He can'tbe visible and invisible by turns, like the devil. We'll see what he isgoing to do now that he's got some money and a plan--for he has both atthe present moment. I would stake my right hand upon it. "

At that same instant, as if May intended to convince Lecoq of the truthof his suspicion, he entered a tobacconist's shop and emerged an instantafterward with a cigar in his mouth. 

XXI

So the landlady of the Hotel de Mariembourg had given May money. Therecould be no further doubt on that point after the purchase of thiscigar. But had they agreed upon any plan? Had they had sufficient timeto decide on the method that May was to employ with the view of bafflinghis pursuit?

It would seem so, since the fugitive's manner had now changed in morerespects than one. If hitherto he had seemed to care little for thedanger of pursuit and capture, at present he was evidently uneasy andagitated. After walking so long in the full sunlight, with his headhigh in the air, he now slunk along in the shadow of the houses, hidinghimself as much as possible. 

"It is evident that his fears have increased in proportion with hishopes, " said Lecoq to his companion. "He was quite unnerved when wesaw him at the Odeon, and the merest trifle would have decided him tosurrender; now, however, he thinks he has a chance to escape with hissecret. "

The fugitive was following the boulevards, but suddenly he turned intoa side street and made his way toward the Temple, where, soon afterward, Father Absinthe and Lecoq found him conversing with one of thoseimportunate dealers in cast-off garments who consider every passer-bytheir lawful prey. The vender and May were evidently debating a questionof price; but the latter was plainly no skilful bargainer, for with asomewhat disappointed air he soon gave up the discussion and entered theshop. 

"Ah, so now he has some coin he has determined on a costume, " remarkedLecoq. "Isn't that always an escaped prisoner's first impulse?"

Soon afterward May emerged into the street. His appearance was decidedlychanged, for he wore a pair of dark blue linen trousers, of the typeFrench "navvies" habitually affect, and a loosely fitting coat of roughwoolen material. A gay silk 'kerchief was knotted about his throat, anda black silk cap was set on one side of his head. Thus attired, he wasscarcely more prepossessing in appearance than Lecoq, and one would havehesitated before deciding which of the two it would be preferable tomeet at night on a deserted highway. 

May seemed very well pleased with his transformation, and was evidentlymore at ease in his new attire. On leaving the shop, however, he glancedsuspiciously around him, as if to ascertain which of the passers-by werewatching his movements. He had not parted with his broadcloth suit, butwas carrying it under his arm, wrapped up in a handkerchief. The onlything he had left behind him was his tall chimney-pot hat. 

Lecoq would have liked to enter the shop and make some inquiries, but hefelt that it would be imprudent to do so, for May had settled his capon his head with a gesture that left no doubt as to his intentions. Asecond later he turned into the Rue du Temple, and now the chase beganin earnest; for the fugitive proved as swift and agile as a stag, andit was no small task to keep him well in sight. He had no doubt lived inEngland and Germany, since he spoke the language of these countries likea native; but one thing was certain--he knew Paris as thoroughly as themost expert Parisian. 

This was shown by the way in which he dashed into the Rue desGravelliers, and by the precision of his course through the many windingstreets that lie between the Rue du Temple and the Rue Beaubourg. Heseemed to know this quarter of the capital by heart; as well, indeed, as if he had spent half his life there. He knew all the wine-shopscommunicating with two streets--all the byways, passages, and tortuousalleys. Twice he almost escaped his pursuers, and once his salvationhung upon a thread. If he had remained in an obscure corner, where hewas completely hidden, only an instant longer, the two detectives wouldhave passed him by and his safety would have been assured. 

The pursuit presented immense difficulties. Night was coming on, andwith it that light fog which almost invariably accompanies a springsunset. Soon the street-lamps glimmered luridly in the mist, and thenit required a keen eyesight indeed to see even for a moderate distance. And, to add to this drawback, the streets were now thronged with workmenreturning home after their daily toil, and with housewives intent onpurchasing provisions for the evening meal, while round about eachdwelling there congregated its numerous denizens swarming like beesaround a hive. May, however, took advantage of every opportunity tomislead the persons who might be following him. Groups collectedaround some cheap-jack's stall, street accidents, a block ofvehicles--everything was utilized by him with such marvelous presence ofmind that he often glided through the crowd without leaving any sign ofhis passage. 

At last he left the neighborhood of the Rue des Gravelliers and made fora broader street. Reaching the Boulevard de Sebastopol, he turned to theleft, and took a fresh start. He darted on with marvelous rapidity, withhis elbows pressed close to his body--husbanding his breath and timinghis steps with the precision of a dancing-master. Never pausing, andwithout once turning his head, he ever hurried on. And it was at thesame regular but rapid pace that he covered the Boulevard de Sebastopol, crossed the Place du Chatelet, and proceeded to mount the BoulevardSaint-Michel. 

Here he suddenly halted before a cab-stand. He spoke to one of thedrivers, opened the door of his vehicle, and jumped in. The cab startedoff at a rapid pace. But May was not inside. He had merely passedthrough the vehicle, getting out at the other door, and just as thedriver was departing for an imaginary destination May slipped into anadjacent cab which left the stand at a gallop. Perhaps, after so manyruses, after such formidable efforts, after this last stratagem--perhapsMay believed that he was free. 

He was mistaken. Behind the cab which bore him onward, and while heleaned back against the cushions to rest, a man was running; and thisman was Lecoq. Poor Father Absinthe had fallen by the way. In front ofthe Palais de Justice he paused, exhausted and breathless, and Lecoq hadlittle hope of seeing him again, since he had all he could do to keephis man in sight without stopping to make the chalk-marks agreed upon. 

May had instructed his driver to take him to the Place d'Italie:requesting him, moreover, to stop exactly in the middle of the square. This was about a hundred paces from the police station in which hehad been temporarily confined with the Widow Chupin. When the vehiclehalted, he sprang to the ground and cast a rapid glance around him, asif looking for some dreaded shadow. He could see nothing, however, foralthough surprised by the sudden stoppage, Lecoq had yet had time tofling himself flat on his stomach under the body of the cab, regardlessof all danger of being crushed by the wheels. May was apparentlyreassured. He paid the cabman and then retraced his course toward theRue Mouffetard. 

With a bound, Lecoq was on his feet again, and started after thefugitive as eagerly as a ravenous dog might follow a bone. He hadreached the shadow cast by the large trees in the outer boulevards whena faint whistle resounded in his ears. "Father Absinthe!" he exclaimedin a tone of delighted surprise. 

"The same, " replied the old detective, "and quite rested, thanks to apassing cabman who picked me up and brought me here--"

"Oh, enough!" interrupted Lecoq. "Let us keep our eyes open. "

May was now walking quite leisurely. He stopped first before one andthen before another of the numerous wine-shops and eating-houses thatabound in this neighborhood. He was apparently looking for some one orsomething, which of the two Lecoq could not, of course, divine. However, after peering through the glass doors of three of these establishmentsand then turning away, the fugitive at last entered the fourth. The twodetectives, who were enabled to obtain a good view of the shop inside, saw the supposed murderer cross the room and seat himself at a tablewhere a man of unusually stalwart build, ruddy-faced and gray-whiskered, was already seated. 

"The accomplice!" murmured Father Absinthe. 

Was this really the redoubtable accomplice? Under other circumstancesLecoq would have hesitated to place dependence on a vague similarity inpersonal appearance; but here probabilities were so strongly in favorof Father Absinthe's assertion that the young detective at once admittedits truth. Was not this meeting the logical sequence of May and MadameMilner's chance interview a few hours before?

"May, " thought Lecoq, "began by taking all the money Madame Milner hadabout her, and then instructed her to tell his accomplice to come andwait for him in some cheap restaurant near here. If he hesitated andlooked inside the different establishments, it was only because hehadn't been able to specify any particular one. Now, if they don't throwaside the mask, it will be because May is not sure he has eluded pursuitand because the accomplice fears that Madame Milner may have beenfollowed. "

The accomplice, if this new personage was really the accomplice, hadresorted to a disguise not unlike that which May and Lecoq had bothadopted. He wore a dirty blue blouse and a hideous old slouch hat, which was well-nigh in tatters. He had, in fact, rather exaggerated hismake-up, for his sinister physiognomy attracted especial attention evenbeside the depraved and ferocious faces of the other customers inthe shop. For this low eating-house was a regular den of thieves andcut-throats. Among those present there were not four workmen reallyworthy of that name. The others occupied in eating and drinking therewere all more or less familiar with prison life. The least to be dreadedwere the barriere loafers, easily recognized by their glazed caps andtheir loosely-knotted neckerchiefs. The majority of the company appearedto consist of this class. 

And yet May, that man who was so strongly suspected of belonging to thehighest social sphere, seemed to be perfectly at home. He called for theregular "ordinary" and a "chopine" of wine, and then, after gulping downhis soup, bolted great pieces of beef, pausing every now and then towipe his mouth on the back of his sleeve. But was he conversing with hisneighbor? This it was impossible to discern through the glass door, allobscured by smoke and steam. 

"I must go in, " said Lecoq, resolutely. "I must get a place near them, and listen. "

"Don't think of such a thing, " said Father Absinthe. "What if theyrecognized you?"

"They won't recognize me. "

"If they do, they'll kill you. "

Lecoq made a careless gesture. 

"I certainly think that they wouldn't hesitate to rid themselves of meat any cost. But, nonsense! A detective who is afraid to risk his lifeis no better than a low spy. Why! you never saw even Gevrol flinch. "

Perhaps Father Absinthe had wished to ascertain if his companion'scourage was equal to his shrewdness and sagacity. If such were the casehe was satisfied on this score now. 

"You, my friend, will remain here to follow them if they leavehurriedly, " resumed Lecoq, who in the mean while had already turned thehandle of the door. Entering with a careless air and taking a seat at atable near that occupied by the fugitive and the man in the slouch hat, he called for a plate of meat and a "chopine" of wine in a gutturalvoice. 

The fugitive and the ruffian opposite him were talking, but likestrangers who had met by chance, and not at all after the fashion offriends who have met at a rendezvous. They spoke in the jargon of theirpretended rank in life, not that puerile slang met with in romancesdescriptive of low life, but that obscene, vulgar dialect which it isimpossible to render, so changeable and diverse is the signification ofits words. 

"What wonderful actors!" thought Lecoq; "what perfection! what method!How I should be deceived if I were not absolutely certain!"

For the moment the man in the slouch hat was giving a detailed accountof the different prisons in France. He described the governors of theprincipal houses of detention; explained the divergencies of disciplinein different establishments; and recounted that the food at Poissy wasten times better than that at Fontevrault. 

Lecoq, having finished his repast, ordered a small glass of brandy, and, leaning his back against the wall and closing his eyes, pretended tofall asleep. His ears were wide open, however, and he carefully listenedto the conversation. 

Soon May began talking in his turn; and he narrated his story exactly ashe had related it to the magistrate, from the murder up to hisescape, without forgetting to mention the suspicions attached to hisidentity--suspicions which afforded him great amusement, he said. Headded that he would be perfectly happy if he had money enough to takehim back to Germany; but unfortunately he only had a few sous and didn'tknow where or how to procure any more. He had not even succeeded inselling some clothing which belonged to him, and which he had with himin a bundle. 

At these words the man in the tattered felt hat declared that he had toogood a heart to leave a comrade in such embarrassment. He knew, in thevery same street, an obliging dealer in such articles, and he offered totake May to his place at once. May's only response was to rise, saying:"Let us start. " And they did start, with Lecoq at their heels. 

They walked rapidly on until passing the Rue Fer-a-Moulin, when theyturned into a narrow, dimly lighted alley, and entered a dingy dwelling. 

"Run and ask the concierge if there are not two doors by which any onecan leave this house, " said Lecoq, addressing Father Absinthe. 

The latter instantly obeyed. He learned, however, that the house hadonly one street door, and accordingly the two detectives waited. "We arediscovered!" murmured Lecoq. "I am sure of it. May must have recognizedme, or the boy at the Hotel de Mariembourg has described me to theaccomplice. "

Father Absinthe made no response, for just then the two men came out ofthe house. May was jingling some coins in his hand, and seemed to bein a very bad temper. "What infernal rascals these receivers are!" hegrumbled. 

However, although he had only received a small sum for his clothing, heprobably felt that his companion's kindness deserved some reward; forimmediately afterward he proposed they should take a drink together, and with that object in view they entered a wine-shop close by. Theyremained here for more than an hour, drinking together; and only leftthis establishment to enter one a hundred paces distant. Turned outby the landlord, who was anxious to shut up, the two friends now tookrefuge in the next one they found open. Here again they were soon turnedout and then they hurried to another boozing-den--and yet again toa fifth. And so, after drinking innumerable bottles of wine, theycontrived to reach the Place Saint-Michel at about one o'clock inthe morning. Here, however, they found nothing to drink; for all thewine-shops were closed. 

The two men then held a consultation together, and, after a shortdiscussion, they walked arm-in-arm toward the Faubourg Saint-Germain, like a pair of friends. The liquor they had imbibed was seeminglyproducing its effect, for they often staggered in their walk, and talkednot merely loudly but both at the same time. In spite of thedanger, Lecoq advanced near enough to catch some fragments of theirconversation; and the words "a good stroke, " and "money enough tosatisfy one, " reached his ears. 

Father Absinthe's confidence wavered. "All this will end badly, " hemurmured. 

"Don't be alarmed, " replied his friend. "I frankly confess that I don'tunderstand the maneuvres of these wily confederates, but what doesthat matter after all; now the two men are together, I feel sure ofsuccess--sure. If one runs away, the other will remain, and Gevrol shallsoon see which is right, he or I. "

Meanwhile the two drunkards had slackened their pace. By the mannerin which they examined the magnificent mansions of the FaubourgSaint-German, one might have suspected them of the very worstintentions. In the Rue de Varrennes, at only a few steps from the Ruede la Chaise, they suddenly paused before a wall of moderate heightsurrounding an immense garden. The man in the slouch hat now did thetalking, and explained to May--as the detectives could tell by hisgestures--that the mansion to which the garden belonged had its frontentrance in the Rue de Grenelle. 

"Bah!" growled Lecoq, "how much further will they carry this nonsense?"

They carried it farther than the young detective had ever imagined. Maysuddenly sprang on to his companion's shoulders, and raised himself toa level with the summit of the wall. An instant afterward a heavy thudmight have been heard. He had let himself drop into the garden. The manin the slouch hat remained in the street to watch. 

The enigmatical fugitive had accomplished this strange, inconceivabledesign so swiftly that Lecoq had neither the time nor the desire tooppose him. His amazement at this unexpected misfortune was so greatthat for, an instant he could neither think nor move. But he quicklyregained his self-possession, and at once decided what was to be done. With a sure eye he measured the distance separating him from May'saccomplice, and with three bounds he was upon him. The man in theslouched hat attempted to shout, but an iron hand stifled the cry inhis throat. He tried to escape, and to beat off his assailant, but avigorous kick stretched him on the ground as if he had been a child. Before he had time to think of further resistance he was bound, gagged, and carried, half-suffocated, to the corner of the Rue de la Chaise. Nosound had been heard; not a word, not an ejaculation, not even a noiseof shuffling--nothing. Any suspicious sound might have reached May, onthe other side of the wall, and warned him of what was going on. 

"How strange, " murmured Father Absinthe, too much amazed to lend ahelping hand to his younger colleague. "How strange! Who would havesupposed--"

"Enough! enough!" interrupted Lecoq, in that harsh, imperious voice, which imminent peril always gives to energetic men. "Enough!--we willtalk to-morrow. I must run away for a minute, and you will remain here. If May shows himself, capture him; don't allow him to escape. "

"I understand; but what is to be done with the man who is lying there?"

"Leave him where he is. I have bound him securely, so there is nothingto fear. When the night-police pass, we will give him into charge--"

He paused and listened. A short way down the street, heavy, measuredfootsteps could be heard approaching. 

"There they come, " said Father Absinthe. 

"Ah! I dared not hope it! I shall have a good chance now. "

At the same moment, two sergeants de ville, whose attention had beenattracted by this group at the street corner, hastened toward them. In afew words, Lecoq explained the situation, and it was decided that one ofthe sergeants should take the accomplice to the station-house, while theother remained with Father Absinthe to cut off May's retreat. 

"And now, " said Lecoq, "I will run round to the Rue de Grenelle and givethe alarm. To whose house does this garden belong?"

"What!" replied one of the sergeants in surprise, "don't you know thegardens of the Duke de Sairmeuse, the famous duke who is a millionaireten times over, and who was formerly the friend--"

"Ah, yes, I know, I know!" said Lecoq. 

"The thief, " resumed the sergeant, "walked into a pretty trap when hegot over that wall. There was a reception at the mansion this evening, as there is every Monday, and every one in the house is still up. Theguests are only just leaving, for there were five or six carriages stillat the door as we passed by. "

Lecoq darted off extremely troubled by what he had just heard. It nowseemed to him that if May had got into this garden, it was not forthe purpose of committing a robbery, but in the hope of throwing hispursuers off the track, and making his escape by way of the Rue deGrenelle, which he hoped to do unnoticed, in the bustle and confusionattending the departure of the guests. 

On reaching the Hotel de Sairmeuse, a princely dwelling, the long facadeof which was brilliantly illuminated, Lecoq found a last carriage justcoming from the courtyard, while several footmen were extinguishing thelights, and an imposing "Suisse, " dazzling to behold in his gorgeouslivery, prepared to close the heavy double doors of the grand entrance. 

The young detective advanced toward this important personage: "Is thisthe Hotel de Sairmeuse?" he inquired. 

The Suisse suspended his work to survey the audacious vagabond whoventured to question him, and then in a harsh voice replied: "I adviseyou to pass on. I want none of your jesting. "

Lecoq had forgotten that he was clad as a barriere loafer. "Ah, "he rejoined, "I'm not what I seem to be. I'm an agent of the secretservice; by name Lecoq. Here is my card, and I came to tell you thatan escaped criminal has just scaled the garden wall in the rear of theHotel de Sairmeuse. "

"A crim-in-al?"

The young detective thought a little exaggeration could do no harm, andmight perhaps insure him more ready aid. "Yes, " he replied; "and oneof the most dangerous kind--a man who has the blood of three victimsalready on his hands. We have just arrested his accomplice, who helpedhim over the wall. "

The flunky's ruby nose paled perceptibly. "I will summon the servants, "he faltered, and suiting the action to the word, he was raising his handto the bell-chain, employed to announce the arrival of visitors, whenLecoq hastily stopped him. 

"A word first!" said he. "Might not the fugitive have passed throughthe house and escaped by this door, without being seen? In that case hewould be far away by this time. "

"Impossible!"

"But why?"

"Excuse me, but I know what I am saying. First, the door opening intothe garden is closed; it is only open during grand receptions, not forour ordinary Monday drawing-rooms. Secondly, Monseigneur requires me tostand on the threshold of the street door when he is receiving. To-dayhe repeated this order, and you may be sure that I haven't disobeyedhim. "

"Since that's the case, " said Lecoq, slightly reassured, "we shallperhaps succeed in finding our man. Warn the servants, but withoutringing the bell. The less noise we make, the greater will be our chanceof success. "

In a moment the fifty servants who peopled the ante-rooms, stables, andkitchens of the Hotel de Sairmeuse were gathered together. The greatlanterns in the coach houses and stables were lighted, and the entiregarden was illuminated as by enchantment. 

"If May is concealed here, " thought Lecoq, delighted to see so manyauxiliaries, "it will be impossible for him to escape. "

But it was in vain that the gardens were thoroughly explored over andover again; no one could be found. The sheds where gardening tools werekept, the conservatories, the summer houses, the two rustic pavilions atthe foot of the garden, even the dog kennels, were scrupulously visited, but all in vain. The trees, with the exception of some horse-chestnutsat the rear of the garden, were almost destitute of leaves, but theywere not neglected on that account. An agile boy, armed with a lantern, climbed each tree, and explored even the topmost branches. 

"The murderer must have left by the way he came, " obstinately repeatedthe Suisse who had armed himself with a huge pistol, and who would notlet go his hold on Lecoq, fearing an accident perhaps. 

To convince the Suisse of his error it was necessary for the youngdetective to place himself in communication with Father Absinthe and thesergeant de ville on the other side of the wall. As Lecoq had expected, the latter both replied that they had not once taken their eyes off thewall, and that not even a mouse had crossed into the street. 

The exploration had hitherto been conducted after a somewhat haphazardfashion, each of the servants obeying his own inspiration; but thenecessity of a methodically conducted search was now recognized. Accordingly, Lecoq took such measures that not a corner, not a recess, could possibly escape scrutiny; and he was dividing the task between hiswilling assistants, when a new-comer appeared upon the scene. This was agrave, smooth-faced individual in the attire of a notary. 

"Monsieur Otto, Monseigneur's first valet de chambre, " the Suissemurmured in Lecoq's ear. 

This important personage came on behalf of Monsieur le Duc (he did notsay "Monseigneur") to inquire the meaning of all this uproar. When hehad received an explanation, M. Otto condescended to compliment Lecoq onhis efficiency, and to recommend that the house should be searchedfrom garret to cellar. These precautions alone would allay the fears ofMadame la Duchesse. 

He then departed, and the search began again with renewed ardor. Amouse concealed in the gardens of the Hotel de Sairmeuse could nothave escaped discovery, so minute were the investigations. Not a singleobject of any size was left undisturbed. The trees were examined leafby leaf, one might almost say. Occasionally the discouraged servantsproposed to abandon the search; but Lecoq urged them on. He ran fromone to the other, entreating and threatening by turns, swearing thathe asked only one more effort, and that this effort would assuredly becrowned with success. Vain promises! The fugitive could not be found. 

The evidence was now conclusive. To persist in searching the gardenany longer would be worse than folly. Accordingly, the young detectivedecided to recall his auxiliaries. "That's enough, " he said, in adespondent voice. "It is now certain that the criminal is no longer inthe garden. "

Was he cowering in some corner of the great house, white with fear, and trembling at the noise made by his pursuers? One might reasonablysuppose this to be the case; and such was the opinion of the servants. Above all, such was the opinion of the Suisse who renewed with growingassurance his affirmations of a few moments before. 

"I have not moved from the threshold of the house to-night, " he said, "and I should certainly have seen any person who passed out. "

"Let us go into the house, then, " said Lecoq. "But first let me askmy companion, who is waiting for me in the street, to join me. It isunnecessary for him to remain any longer where he is. "

When Father Absinthe had responded to the summons all the lower doorswere carefully closed and guarded, and the search recommenced insidethe house, one of the largest and most magnificent residences of theFaubourg Saint-Germain. But at this moment all the treasures of theuniverse could not have won a single glance or a second's attentionfrom Lecoq. All his thoughts were occupied with the fugitive. Hepassed through several superb drawing-rooms, along an unrivaled picturegallery, across a magnificent dining-room, with sideboards groaningbeneath their load of massive plate, without paying the slightestattention to the marvels of art and upholstery that were offered to hisview. He hurried on, accompanied by the servants who were guiding andlighting him. He lifted heavy articles of furniture as easily as hewould have lifted a feather; he moved each chair and sofa from itsplace, he explored each cupboard and wardrobe, and drew back in turnsall the wall-hangings, window-curtains, and portieres. A more completesearch would have been impossible. In each of the rooms and passagesthat Lecoq entered not a nook was left unexplored, not a corner wasforgotten. At length, after two hours' continuous work, Lecoq returnedto the first floor. Only five or six servants had accompanied him on histour of inspection. The others had dropped off one by one, weary of thisadventure, which had at first possessed the attractions of a pleasureparty. 

"You have seen everything, gentlemen, " declared an old footman. 

"Everything!" interrupted the Suisse, "everything! Certainly not. There are the private apartments of Monseigneur and those of Madame laDuchesse still to be explored. "

"Alas!" murmured Lecoq, "What good would it be?"

But the Suisse had already gone to rap gently at one of the doorsopening into the hall. His interest equaled that of the detectives. Theyhad seen the murderer enter; he had not seen him go out; therefore theman was in the house and he wished him to be found. 

The door at which he had knocked soon opened, and the grave, clean-shaven face of Otto, the duke's first valet de chambre, showeditself. "What the deuce do you want?" he asked in surly tones. 

"To enter Monseigneur's room, " replied the Suisse, "in order to see ifthe fugitive has not taken refuge there. "

"Are you crazy?" exclaimed the head valet de chambre. "How could anyone have entered here? Besides, I can't suffer Monsieur le Duc to bedisturbed. He has been at work all night, and he is just going to take abath before going to bed. "

The Suisse seemed very vexed at this rebuff; and Lecoq was presentinghis excuses, when another voice was heard exclaiming. "Let these worthymen do their duty, Otto. "

"Ah! do you hear that!" exclaimed the Suisse triumphantly. 

"Very well, since Monsieur le Duc permits it. Come in, I will light youthrough the apartments. "

Lecoq entered, but it was only for form's sake that he walked throughthe different apartments; a library, an admirable study, and a charmingsmoking-room. As he was passing through the bed-chamber, he had thehonor of seeing the Duc de Sairmeuse through the half-open door of asmall, white, marble bath-room. 

"Ah, well!" cried the duke, affably, "is the fugitive still invisible?"

"Still invisible, monsieur, " Lecoq respectfully replied. 

The valet de chambre did not share his master's good humor. "I think, gentlemen, " said he, "that you may spare yourselves the trouble ofvisiting the apartments of the duchess. It is a duty we have takenupon ourselves--the women and I--and we have looked even in the bureaudrawers. "

Upon the landing the old footman, who had not ventured to enter hismaster's apartments, was awaiting the detectives. He had doubtlessreceived his orders, for he politely inquired if they desired anything, and if, after such a fatiguing night, they would not find some coldmeat and a glass of wine acceptable. Father Absinthe's eyes sparkled. He probably thought that in this royal abode they must have deliciousthings to eat and drink--such viands, indeed, as he had never tasted inhis life. But Lecoq civilly refused, and left the Hotel de Sairmeuse, reluctantly followed by his old companion. 

He was eager to be alone. For several hours he had been making immenseefforts to conceal his rage and despair. May escaped! vanished!evaporated! The thought drove him almost mad. What he had declared tobe impossible had nevertheless occurred. In his confidence and pride, hehad sworn to answer for the prisoner's head with his own life; and yethe had allowed him to slip between his fingers. 

When he was once more in the street, he paused in front of FatherAbsinthe, and crossing his arms, inquired: "Well, my friend, what do youthink of all this?"

The old detective shook his head, and in serene unconsciousness ofhis want of tact, responded: "I think that Gevrol will chuckle withdelight. "

At this mention of his most cruel enemy, Lecoq bounded from the groundlike a wounded bull. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Gevrol has not won the battleyet. We have lost May; it is a great misfortune; but his accompliceremains in our hands. We hold the crafty man who has hitherto defeatedall our plans, no matter how carefully arranged. He is certainlyshrewd and devoted to his friend; but we will see if his devotion willwithstand the prospect of hard labor in the penitentiary. And thatis what awaits him, if he is silent, and if he thus accepts theresponsibility of aiding and abetting the fugitive's escape. Oh! I've nofears--M. Segmuller will know how to draw the truth out of him. "

So speaking, Lecoq brandished his clinched fist with a threateningair and then, in calmer tones, he added: "But we must go to thestation-house where the accomplice was removed. I wish to question him alittle. "

XXII

It was six o'clock, and the dawn was just breaking when Father Absintheand his companion reached the station-house, where they found thesuperintendent seated at a small table, making out his report. Hedid not move when they entered, failing to recognize them under theirdisguises. But when they mentioned their names, he rose with evidentcordiality, and held out his hand. 

"Upon my word!" said he, "I congratulate you on your capture lastnight. "

Father Absinthe and Lecoq exchanged an anxious look. "What capture?"they both asked in a breath. 

"Why, that individual you sent me last night so carefully bound. "

"Well, what about him?"

The superintendent burst into a hearty laugh. "So you are ignorant ofyour good fortune, " said he. "Ah! luck has favored you, and you willreceive a handsome reward. "

"Pray tell us what we've captured?" asked Father Absinthe, impatiently. 

"A scoundrel of the deepest dye, an escaped convict, who has beenmissing for three months. You must have a description of him in yourpocket--Joseph Couturier, in short. "

On hearing these words, Lecoq became so frightfully pale that FatherAbsinthe, fearing he was going to faint, raised his arms to preventhis falling. A chair stood close by, however, and on this Lecoq allowedhimself to drop. "Joseph Couturier, " he faltered, evidently unconsciousof what he was saying. "Joseph Couturier! an escaped convict!"

The superintendent certainly did not understand Lecoq's agitation anybetter than Father Absinthe's discomfited air. 

"You have reason to be proud of your work; your success will make asensation this morning, " he repeated. "You have captured a famous prize. I can see Gevrol's nose now when he hears the news. Only yesterdayhe was boasting that he alone was capable of securing this dangerousrascal. "

After such an irreparable failure as that which had overtaken Lecoq, the unintended irony of these compliments was bitter in the extreme. The superintendent's words of praise fell on his ears like so many blowsfrom a sledge hammer. 

"You must be mistaken, " he eventually remarked, rising from his seat andsummoning all his energy to his assistance. "That man is not Couturier. "

"Oh, I'm not mistaken; you may be quite sure of that. He fully answersthe description appended to the circular ordering his capture, and eventhe little finger of his left hand is lacking, as is mentioned. "

"Ah! that's a proof indeed!" groaned Father Absinthe. 

"It is indeed. And I know another one more conclusive still. Couturieris an old acquaintance of mine. I have had him in custody before; and herecognized me last night just as I recognized him. "

After this further argument was impossible; hence it was in an entirelydifferent tone that Lecoq remarked: "At least, my friend, you will allowme to address a few questions to your prisoner. "

"Oh! as many as you like. But first of all, let us bar the door andplace two of my men before it. This Couturier has a fondness for theopen air, and he wouldn't hesitate to dash out our brains if he only sawa chance of escape. "

After taking these precautions, the man was removed from the cage inwhich he had been confined. He stepped forward with a smile on his face, having already recovered that nonchalant manner common to old offenderswho, when in custody, seem to lose all feeling of anger against thepolice. They are not unlike those gamblers who, after losing their lasthalfpenny, nevertheless willingly shake hands with their adversary. 

Couturier at once recognized Lecoq. "Ah!" said he, "It was you who didthat business last night. You can boast of having a solid fist! You fellupon me very unexpectedly; and the back of my neck is still the worsefor your clutch. "

"Then, if I were to ask a favor of you, you wouldn't be disposed togrant it?"

"Oh, yes! all the same. I have no more malice in my composition than achicken; and I rather like your face. What do you want of me?"

"I should like to have some information about the man who accompaniedyou last night. "

Couturier's face darkened. "I am really unable to give you any, " hereplied. 

"Why?"

"Because I don't know him. I never saw him before last night. "

"It's hard to believe that. A fellow doesn't enlist the first-comer foran expedition like yours last evening. Before undertaking such a jobwith a man, one finds out something about him. "

"I don't say I haven't been guilty of a stupid blunder, " repliedCouturier. "Indeed I could murder myself for it, but there was nothingabout the man to make me suspect that he belonged to the secret-service. He spread a net for me, and I jumped into it. It was made for me, ofcourse; but it wasn't necessary for me to put my foot into it. "

"You are mistaken, my man, " said Lecoq. "The individual in questiondidn't belong to the police force. I pledge you my word of honor, hedidn't. "

For a moment Couturier surveyed Lecoq with a knowing air, as if he hopedto discover whether he were speaking the truth or attempting to deceivehim. "I believe you, " he said at last. "And to prove it I'll tell youhow it happened. I was dining alone last evening in a restaurant inthe Rue Mouffetard, when that man came in and took a seat beside me. Naturally we began to talk; and I thought him a very good sort of afellow. I forget how it began, but somehow or other he mentioned that hehad some clothes he wanted to sell; and being glad to oblige him, I tookhim to a friend, who bought them from him. It was doing him a good turn, wasn't it? Well, he offered me something to drink, and I returned thecompliment. We had a number of glasses together, and by midnight I beganto see double. He then began to propose a plan, which, he swore, wouldmake us both rich. It was to steal the plate from a superb mansion. There would be no risk for me; he would take charge of the whole affair. 

"I had only to help him over the wall, and keep watch. The proposal wastempting--was it not? You would have thought so, if you had been in myplace, and yet I hesitated. But the fellow insisted. He swore that hewas acquainted with the habits of the house; that Monday evening was agrand gala night there, and that on these occasions the servants didn'tlock up the plate. After a little while I consented. "

A fleeting flush tinged Lecoq's pale cheeks. "Are you sure he told youthat the Duc de Sairmeuse received every Monday evening?" he asked, eagerly. 

"Certainly; how else could I have known it! He even mentioned the nameyou uttered just now, a name ending in 'euse. '"

A strange thought had just flitted through Lecoq's mind. 

"What if May and the Duc de Sairmeuse should be one and the sameperson?" But the notion seemed so thoroughly absurd, so utterlyinadmissible that he quickly dismissed it, despising himself even forhaving entertained it for a single instant. He cursed his inveterateinclination always to look at events from a romantic impossible side, instead of considering them as natural commonplace incidents. After allthere was nothing surprising in the fact that a man of the world, suchas he supposed May to be, should know the day set aside by the Duc deSairmeuse for the reception of his friends. 

The young detective had nothing more to expect from Couturier. Hethanked him, and after shaking hands with the superintendent, walkedaway, leaning on Father Absinthe's arm. For he really had need ofsupport. His legs trembled, his head whirled, and he felt sick bothin body and in mind. He had failed miserably, disgracefully. He hadflattered himself that he possessed a genius for his calling, and yet hehad been easily outwitted. 

To rid himself of pursuit, May had only had to invent a pretendedaccomplice, and this simple stratagem had sufficed to nonplus those whowere on his trail. 

Father Absinthe was rendered uneasy by his colleague's evidentdejection. "Where are we going?" he inquired; "to the Palais de Justice, or to the Prefecture de Police?"

Lecoq shuddered on hearing this question, which brought him face toface with the horrible reality of his situation. "To the Prefecture!" heresponded. "Why should I go there? To expose myself to Gevrol's insults, perhaps? I haven't courage enough for that. Nor do I feel that I havestrength to go to M. Segmuller and say: 'Forgive me: you have judged metoo favorably. I am a fool!'"

"What are we to do?"

"Ah! I don't know. Perhaps I shall embark for America--perhaps I shallthrow myself into the river. "

He had walked about a hundred yards when suddenly he stopped short. "No!" he exclaimed, with a furious stamp of his foot. "No, thisaffair shan't end like this. I have sworn to have the solution of theenigma--and I will have it!" For a moment he reflected; then, in acalmer voice, he added: "There is one man who can save us, a man whowill see what I haven't been able to discern, who will understand thingsthat I couldn't. Let us go and ask his advice, my course will depend onhis reply--come!"

After such a day and such a night, it might have been expected thatthese two men would have felt an irresistible desire to sleep and rest. But Lecoq was sustained by wounded vanity, intense disappointment, andyet unextinguished hope of revenge: while poor Father Absinthe was notunlike some luckless cab-horse, which, having forgotten there is such athing as repose, is no longer conscious of fatigue, but travels on untilhe falls down dead. The old detective felt that his limbs were failinghim; but Lecoq said: "It is necessary, " and so he walked on. 

They both went to Lecoq's lodgings, where they laid aside theirdisguises and made themselves trim. Then after breakfasting they hastilybetook themselves to the Rue St. Lazare, where, entering one of the moststylish houses in the street, Lecoq inquired of the concierge: "Is M. Tabaret at home?"

"Yes, but he's ill, " was the reply. 

"Very ill?" asked Lecoq anxiously. 

"It is hard to tell, " replied the man: "it is his old complaint--gout. "And with an air of hypocritical commiseration, he added: "M. Tabaret isnot wise to lead the life he does. Women are very well in a way, but athis age--"

The two detectives exchanged a meaning glance, and as soon as they wereout of hearing burst out laughing. Their hilarity had scarcely ceasedwhen they reached the first floor, and rang the bell at the door of oneof the apartments. The buxom-looking woman who appeared in answer to hissummons, informed them that her master would receive them, althoughhe was confined to his bed. "However, the doctor is with him now, " sheadded. "But perhaps the gentlemen would not mind waiting until he hasgone?" The gentlemen replying in the affirmative, she then conductedthem into a handsome library, and invited them to sit down. 

The person whom Lecoq had come to consult was a man celebrated forwonderful shrewdness and penetration, well-nigh exceeding the bounds ofpossibility. For five-and-forty years he had held a petty post in one ofthe offices of the Mont de Piete, just managing to exist upon the meagrestipend he received. Suddenly enriched by the death of a relative, ofwhom he had scarcely ever heard, he immediately resigned his functions, and the very next day began to long for the same employment he had sooften anathematized. In his endeavors to divert his mind, he beganto collect old books, and heaped up mountains of tattered, worm-eatenvolumes in immense oak bookcases. But despite this pastime to manyso attractive, he could not shake off his weariness. He grew thin andyellow, and his income of forty thousand francs was literally killinghim, when a sudden inspiration came to his relief. It came to him oneevening after reading the memoirs of a celebrated detective, one ofthose men of subtle penetration, soft as silk, and supple as steel, whomjustice sometimes sets upon the trail of crime. 

"And I also am a detective!" he exclaimed. 

This, however, he must prove. From that day forward he perused withfeverish interest every book he could find that had any connection withthe organization of the police service and the investigation of crime. Reports and pamphlets, letters and memoirs, he eagerly turned from oneto the other, in his desire to master his subject. Such learning as hemight find in books did not suffice, however, to perfect his education. Hence, whenever a crime came to his knowledge he started out in quest ofthe particulars and worked up the case by himself. 

Soon these platonic investigations did not suffice, and one evening, at dusk, he summoned all his resolution, and, going on foot to thePrefecture de Police, humbly begged employment from the officials there. He was not very favorably received, for applicants were numerous. Buthe pleaded his cause so adroitly that at last he was charged with sometrifling commissions. He performed them admirably. The great difficultywas then overcome. Other matters were entrusted to him, and he soondisplayed a wonderful aptitude for his chosen work. 

The case of Madame B----, the rich banker's wife, made him virtuallyfamous. Consulted at a moment when the police had abandoned all hope ofsolving the mystery, he proved by A plus B--by a mathematical deduction, so to speak--that the dear lady must have stolen her own property; andevents soon proved that he had told the truth. After this success he wasalways called upon to advise in obscure and difficult cases. 

It would be difficult to tell his exact status at the Prefecture. Whena person is employed, salary or compensation of some kind is understood, but this strange man had never consented to receive a penny. What he didhe did for his own pleasure--for the gratification of a passion whichhad become his very life. When the funds allowed him for expenses seemedinsufficient, he at once opened his private purse; and the men whoworked with him never went away without some substantial token of hisliberality. Of course, such a man had many enemies. He did as muchwork--and far better work than any two inspectors of police; and hedidn't receive a sou of salary. Hence, in calling him "spoil-trade, " hisrivals were not far from right. 

Whenever any one ventured to mention his name favorably in Gevrol'spresence, the jealous inspector could scarcely control himself, andretorted by denouncing an unfortunate mistake which this remarkableman once made. Inclined to obstinacy, like all enthusiastic men, hehad indeed once effected the conviction of an innocent prisoner--a poorlittle tailor, who was accused of killing his wife. This single error (agrievous one no doubt), in a career of some duration, had the effect ofcooling his ardor perceptibly; and subsequently he seldom visited thePrefecture. But yet he remained "the oracle, " after the fashion of thosegreat advocates who, tired of practise at the bar, still win greatand glorious triumphs in their consulting rooms, lending to others theweapons they no longer care to wield themselves. 

When the authorities were undecided what course to pursue in some greatcase, they invariably said: "Let us go and consult Tirauclair. " For thiswas the name by which he was most generally known: a sobriquet derivedfrom a phrase which was always on his lips. He was constantly saying:"_Il faut que cela se tire au clair_: That must be brought tolight. " Hence, the not altogether inappropriate appellation of "PereTirauclair, " or "Father Bring-to-Light. "

Perhaps this sobriquet assisted him in keeping his occupation secretfrom his friends among the general public. At all events they neversuspected them. His disturbed life when he was working up a case, thestrange visitors he received, his frequent and prolonged absences fromhome, were all imputed to a very unreasonable inclination to gallantry. His concierge was deceived as well as his friends, and laughing at hissupposed infatuation, disrespectfully called him an old libertine. Itwas only the officials of the detective force who knew that Tirauclairand Tabaret were one and the same person. 

Lecoq was trying to gain hope and courage by reflecting on the career ofthis eccentric man, when the buxom housekeeper reentered the libraryand announced that the physician had left. At the same time she opened adoor and exclaimed: "This is the room; you gentlemen can enter now. "

XXIII

On a large canopied bed, sweating and panting beneath the weightof numerous blankets, lay the two-faced oracle--Tirauclair, of thePrefecture--Tabaret, of the Rue Saint Lazare. It was impossible tobelieve that the owner of such a face, in which a look of stupiditywas mingled with one of perpetual astonishment, could possess superiortalent, or even an average amount of intelligence. With his retreatingforehead, and his immense ears, his odious turned-up nose, tiny eyes, and coarse, thick lips, M. Tabaret seemed an excellent type of theignorant, pennywise, petty rentier class. Whenever he took his walksabroad, the juvenile street Arabs would impudently shout after him ortry to mimic his favorite grimace. And yet his ungainliness did not seemto worry him in the least, while he appeared to take real pleasurein increasing his appearance of stupidity, solacing himself with thereflection that "he is not really a genius who seems to be one. "

At the sight of the two detectives, whom he knew very well, his eyessparkled with pleasure. "Good morning, Lecoq, my boy, " said he. "Goodmorning, my old Absinthe. So you think enough down there of poor PapaTirauclair to come and see him?"

"We need your advice, Monsieur Tabaret. "

"Ah, ah!"

"We have just been as completely outwitted as if we were babies in longclothes. "

"What! was your man such a very cunning fellow?"

Lecoq heaved a sigh. "So cunning, " he replied, "that, if I weresuperstitious, I should say he was the devil himself. "

The sick man's face wore a comical expression of envy. "What! you havefound a treasure like that, " said he, "and you complain! Why, it isa magnificent opportunity--a chance to be proud of! You see, my boys, everything has degenerated in these days. The race of great criminalsis dying out--those who've succeeded the old stock are like counterfeitcoins. There's scarcely anything left outside a crowd of low offenderswho are not worth the shoe leather expended in pursuing them. It isenough to disgust a detective, upon my word. No more trouble, emotion, anxiety, or excitement. When a crime is committed nowadays, the criminalis in jail the next morning, you've only to take the omnibus, and goto the culprit's house and arrest him. He's always found, the more thepity. But what has your fellow been up to?"

"He has killed three men. "

"Oh! oh! oh!" said old Tabaret, in three different tones, plainlyimplying that this criminal was evidently superior to others of hisspecies. "And where did this happen?"

"In a wine-shop near the barriere. "

"Oh, yes, I recollect: a man named May. The murders were committed inthe Widow Chupin's cabin. I saw the case mentioned in the 'Gazette desTribunaux, ' and your comrade, Fanferlot l'Ecureuil, who comes to see me, told me you were strangely puzzled about the prisoner's identity. So youare charged with investigating the affair? So much the better. Tell meall about it, and I will assist you as well as I can. "

Suddenly checking himself, and lowering his voice, Tirauclair added:"But first of all, just do me the favor to get up. Now, wait a moment, and when I motion you, open that door there, on the left, very suddenly. Mariette, my housekeeper, who is curiosity incarnate, is standing therelistening. I hear her hair rubbing against the lock. Now!"

The young detective immediately obeyed, and Mariette, caught in the act, hastened away, pursued by her master's sarcasms. "You might have knownthat you couldn't succeed at that!" he shouted after her. 

Although Lecoq and Father Absinthe were much nearer the door than oldTirauclair, neither of them had heard the slightest sound; and theylooked at each other in astonishment, wondering whether their host hadbeen playing a little farce for their benefit, or whether his sense ofhearing was really so acute as this incident would seem to indicate. 

"Now, " said Tabaret, settling himself more comfortably upon hispillows--"now I will listen to you, my boy. Mariette will not come backagain. "

On his way to Tabaret's, Lecoq had busied himself in preparing hisstory; and it was in the clearest possible manner that he related allthe particulars, from the moment when Gevrol opened the door of thePoivriere to the instant when May leaped over the garden wall in therear of the Hotel de Sairmeuse. 

While the young detective was telling his story, old Tabaret seemedcompletely transformed. His gout was entirely forgotten. According tothe different phases of the recital, he either turned and twisted onhis bed, uttering little cries of delight or disappointment, or elselay motionless, plunged in the same kind of ecstatic reverie whichenthusiastic admirers of classical music yield themselves up to whilelistening to one of the great Beethoven's divine sonatas. 

"If I had been there! If only I had been there!" he murmured regretfullyevery now and then through his set teeth, though when Lecoq's story wasfinished, enthusiasm seemed decidedly to have gained the upper hand. "It is beautiful! it is grand!" he exclaimed. "And with just that onephrase: 'It is the Prussians who are coming, ' for a starting point!Lecoq, my boy, I must say that you have conducted this affair like anangel!"

"Don't you mean to say like a fool?" asked the discouraged detective. 

"No, my friend, certainly not. You have rejoiced my old heart. I candie; I shall have a successor. Ah! that Gevrol who betrayed you--forhe did betray you, there's no doubt about it--that obtuse, obstinate'General' is not worthy to blacken your shoes!"

"You overpower me, Monsieur Tabaret!" interrupted Lecoq, as yetuncertain whether his host was poking fun at him or not. "But it is nonethe less true that May has disappeared, and I have lost my reputationbefore I had begun to make it. "

"Don't be in such a hurry to reject my compliments, " replied oldTabaret, with a horrible grimace. "I say that you have conducted thisinvestigation very well; but it could have been done much better, verymuch better. You have a talent for your work, that's evident; butyou lack experience; you become elated by a trifling advantage, ordiscouraged by a mere nothing; you fail, and yet persist in holding fastto a fixed idea, as a moth flutters about a candle. Then, you are young. But never mind that, it's a fault you will outgrow only too soon. Andnow, to speak frankly, I must tell you that you have made a great manyblunders. "

Lecoq hung his head like a schoolboy receiving a reprimand from histeacher. After all was he not a scholar, and was not this old man hismaster?

"I will now enumerate your mistakes, " continued old Tabaret, "and I willshow you how, on at least three occasions, you allowed an opportunityfor solving this mystery to escape you. "

"But--"

"Pooh! pooh! my boy, let me talk a little while now. What axiom did youstart with? You said: 'Always distrust appearances; believe preciselythe contrary of what appears true, or even probable. '"

"Yes, that is exactly what I said to myself. "

"And it was a very wise conclusion. With that idea in your lantern tolight your path, you ought to have gone straight to the truth. But youare young, as I said before; and the very first circumstance you findthat seems at all probable you quite forget the rule which, as youyourself admit, should have governed your conduct. As soon as you meet afact that seems even more than probable, you swallow it as eagerly as agudgeon swallows an angler's bait. "

This comparison could but pique the young detective. "I don't think I'vebeen so simple as that, " protested he. 

"Bah! What did you think, then, when you heard that M. D'Escorval hadbroken his leg in getting out of his carriage?"

"Believe! I believed what they told me, because--" He paused, andTirauclair burst into a hearty fit of laughter. 

"You believed it, " he said, "because it was a very plausible story. "

"What would you have believed had you been in my place?"

"Exactly the opposite of what they told me. I might have been mistaken;but it would be the logical conclusion as my first course of reasoning. "

This conclusion was so bold that Lecoq was disconcerted. "What!" heexclaimed; "do you suppose that M. D'Escorval's fall was only a fiction?that he didn't break his leg?"

Old Tabaret's face suddenly assumed a serious expression. "I don'tsuppose it, " he replied; "I'm sure of it. "

XXIV

Lecoq's confidence in the oracle he was consulting was very great; buteven old Tirauclair might be mistaken, and what he had just said seemedsuch an enormity, so completely beyond the bounds of possibility, thatthe young man could not conceal a gesture of incredulous surprise. 

"So, Monsieur Tabaret, you are ready to affirm that M. D'Escorval isin quite as good health as Father Absinthe or myself; and that he hasconfined himself to his room for a couple of months to give a semblanceof truth to a falsehood?"

"I would be willing to swear it. "

"But what could possibly have been his object?"

Tabaret lifted his hands to heaven, as if imploring forgiveness for theyoung man's stupidity. "And it was in you, " he exclaimed, "in you thatI saw a successor, a disciple to whom I might transmit my method ofinduction; and now, you ask me such a question as that! Reflect amoment. Must I give you an example to assist you? Very well. Let it beso. Suppose yourself a magistrate. A crime is committed; you arecharged with the duty of investigating it, and you visit the prisonerto question him. Very well. This prisoner has, hitherto, succeeded inconcealing his identity--this was the case in the present instance, wasit not? Very well. Now, what would you do if, at the very first glance, you recognized under the prisoner's disguise your best friend, or yourworst enemy? What would you do, I ask?"

"I should say to myself that a magistrate who is obliged to hesitatebetween his duty and his inclinations, is placed in a very tryingposition, and I should endeavor to avoid the responsibility. "

"I understand that; but would you reveal this prisoner'sidentity--remember, he might be your friend or your enemy?"

The question was so delicate that Lecoq remained silent for a moment, reflecting before he replied. 

The pause was interrupted by Father Absinthe. "I should reveal nothingwhatever!" he exclaimed. "I should remain absolutely neutral. I shouldsay to myself others are trying to discover this man's identity. Letthem do so if they can; but let my conscience be clear. "

This was the cry of honesty; not the counsel of a casuist. 

"I also should be silent, " Lecoq at last replied; "and it seems tome that, in holding my tongue, I should not fail in my duty as amagistrate. "

On hearing these words, Tabaret rubbed his hands together, as he alwaysdid when he was about to present some overwhelming argument. "Such beingthe case, " said he, "do me the favor to tell me what pretext you wouldinvent in order to withdraw from the case without exciting suspicion?"

"I don't know; I can't say now. But if I were placed in such a positionI should find some excuse--invent something--"

"And if you could find nothing better, " interrupted Tabaret, "you wouldadopt M. D'Escorval's expedient; you would pretend you had broken alimb. Only, as you are a clever fellow, you would sacrifice your arm; itwould be less inconvenient than your leg; and you wouldn't be condemnedto seclusion for several months. "

"So, Monsieur Tabaret, you are convinced that M. D'Escorval knows whoMay really is. "

Old Tirauclair turned so suddenly in his bed that his forgotten goutdrew from him a terrible groan. "Can you doubt?" he exclaimed. "Can youpossibly doubt it? What proofs do you want then? What connection do yousee between the magistrate's fall and the prisoner's attempt at suicide?I wasn't there as you were; I only know the story as you have told itto me. I can't look at the facts with my own eyes, but according to yourstatements, which are I suppose correct, this is what I understand. WhenM. D'Escorval has completed his task at the Widow Chupin's house, he comes to the prison to examine the supposed murderer. The two menrecognize each other. Had they been alone, mutual explanations mighthave ensued, and affairs taken quite a different turn. But they were notalone; a third party was present--M. D'Escorval's clerk. So they couldsay nothing. The magistrate asked a few common-place questions, in atroubled voice, and the prisoner, terribly agitated, replied as besthe could. Now, after leaving the cell, M. D'Escorval no doubt said tohimself: 'I can't investigate the offenses of a man I hate!' He wascertainly terribly perplexed. When you tried to speak to him, as he wasleaving the prison, he harshly told you to wait till the next day; and aquarter of an hour later he pretended to fall down and break his leg. "

"Then you think that M. D'Escorval and May are enemies?" inquired Lecoq. 

"Don't the facts prove that beyond a doubt?" retorted Tabaret. "If theyhad been friends, the magistrate might have acted in the same manner;but then the prisoner wouldn't have attempted to strangle himself. Butthanks to you; his life was saved; for he owes his life to you. Duringthe night, confined in a straight-waistcoat, he was powerless to injurehimself. Ah! how he must have suffered that night! What agony! So, in the morning, when he was conducted to the magistrate's room forexamination, it was with a sort of frenzy that he dashed into thedreaded presence of his enemy. He expected to find M. D'Escorval there, ready to triumph over his misfortunes; and he intended to say: 'Yes, it's I. There is a fatality in it. I have killed three men, and I amin your power. But there is a mortal feud between us, and for thatvery reason you haven't the right to prolong my tortures! It would beinfamous cowardice if you did so. ' However, instead of M. D'Escorval, he sees M. Segmuller. Then what happens? He is surprised, and his eyesbetray the astonishment he feels when he realizes the generosity of hisenemy--an enemy from whom he had expected no indulgence. Then a smilecomes to his lips--a smile of hope; for he thinks, since M. D'Escorvalhas not betrayed his secret, that he may be able to keep it, and emerge, perhaps, from this shadow of shame and crime with his name and honorstill untarnished. "

Old Tabaret paused, and then, with a sudden change of tone and anironical gesture, he added: "And that--is my explanation. "

Father Absinthe had risen, frantic with delight. "Cristi!" he exclaimed, "that's it! that's it!"

Lecoq's approbation was none the less evident although unspoken. Hecould appreciate this rapid and wonderful work of induction far betterthan his companion. 

For a moment or two old Tabaret reclined upon his pillows enjoyingthe sweets of admiration; then he continued: "Do you wish for furtherproofs, my boy? Recollect the perseverance M. D'Escorval displayed insending to M. Segmuller for information. I admit that a man may havea passion for his profession; but not to such an extent as that. Youbelieved that his leg was broken. Then were you not surprised to finda magistrate, with a broken limb, suffering mortal anguish, taking suchwonderful interest in a miserable murderer? I haven't any broken bones, I've only got the gout; but I know very well that when I'm suffering, half the world might be judging the other half, and yet the idea ofsending Mariette for information would never occur to me. Ah! a moment'sreflection would have enabled you to understand the reason of hissolicitude, and would probably have given you the key to the wholemystery. "

Lecoq, who was such a brilliant casuist in the Widow Chupin's hovel, whowas so full of confidence in himself, and so earnest in expounding histheories to simple Father Absinthe--Lecoq hung his head abashed and didnot utter a word. But he felt neither anger nor impatience. 

He had come to ask advice, and was glad that it should be given him. Hehad made many mistakes, as he now saw only too plainly; and when theywere pointed out to him he neither fumed nor fretted, nor tried to provethat he had been right when he had been wrong. This was certainly anexcellent trait in his character. 

Meanwhile, M. Tabaret had poured out a great glass of some cooling drinkand drained it. He now resumed: "I need not remind you of the mistakeyou made in not compelling Toinon Chupin to tell you all she knew aboutthis affair while she was in your power. 'A bird in the hand'--you knowthe proverb. "

"Be assured, Monsieur Tabaret, that this mistake has cost me enough tomake me realize the danger of allowing a well-disposed witness's zeal tocool down. "

"We will say no more about that, then. But I must tell you that threeor four times, at least, it has been in your power to clear up thismystery. "

The oracle paused, awaiting some protestation from his disciple. Nonecame, however. "If he says this, " thought the young detective, "it mustindeed be so. "

This discretion made a great impression on old Tabaret, and increasedthe esteem he had conceived for Lecoq. "The first time that you werelacking in discretion, " said he, "was when you tried to discover theowner of the diamond earring found at the Poivriere. "

"I made every effort to discover the last owner. "

"You tried very hard, I don't deny it; but as for making everyeffort--that's quite another thing. For instance, when you heard thatthe Baroness de Watchau was dead, and that all her property had beensold, what did you do?"

"You know; I went immediately to the person who had charge of the sale. "

"Very well! and afterwards?"

"I examined the catalogue; and as, among the jewels mentioned, I couldfind none that answered the description of these diamonds, I knew thatthe clue was quite lost. "

"There is precisely where you are mistaken!" exclaimed old Tirauclair, exultantly. "If such valuable jewels are not mentioned in the catalogueof the sale, the Baroness de Watchau could not have possessed them atthe time of her death. And if she no longer possessed them she must havegiven them away or sold them. And who could she have sold them to? Toone of her lady friends, very probably. For this reason, had I been inyour place, I should have found out the names of her intimate friends;this would have been a very easy task; and then, I should have tried towin the favor of all the lady's-maids in the service of these friends. This would have only been a pastime for a good-looking young fellow likeyou. Then, I should have shown this earring to each maid in successionuntil I found one who said: 'That diamond belongs to my mistress, ' orone who was seized with a nervous trembling. "

"And to think that this idea did not once occur to me!" ejaculatedLecoq. 

"Wait, wait, I am coming to the second mistake you made, " retorted theoracle. "What did you do when you obtained possession of the trunkwhich May pretended was his? Why you played directly into this cunningadversary's hand. How could you fail to see that this trunk was onlyan accessory article; a bit of 'property' got ready in 'mounting' the'comedy'? You should have known that it could only have been depositedwith Madame Milner by the accomplice, and that all its contents musthave been purchased for the occasion. "

"I knew this, of course; but even under these circumstances, what couldI do?"

"What could you do, my boy? Well, I am only a poor old man, but I shouldhave interviewed every clothier in Paris; and at last some one wouldhave exclaimed: 'Those articles! Why, I sold them to an individual likethis or that--who purchased them for one of his friends whose measure hebrought with him. '"

Angry with himself, Lecoq struck his clenched hand violently uponthe table beside him. "Sacrebleu!" he exclaimed, "that method wasinfallible, and so simple too! Ah! I shall never forgive myself for mystupidity as long as I live!"

"Gently, gently!" interrupted old Tirauclair. "You are going too far, my dear boy. Stupidity is not the proper word at all; you should saycarelessness, thoughtlessness. You are young--what else could oneexpect? What is far less inexcusable is the manner in which youconducted the chase, after the prisoner was allowed to escape. "

"Alas!" murmured the young man, now completely discouraged; "did Iblunder in that?"

"Terribly, my son; and here is where I really blame you. What diabolicalinfluence induced you to follow May, step by step, like a commonpoliceman?"

This time Lecoq was stupefied. "Ought I to have allowed him to escapeme?" he inquired. 

"No; but if I had been by your side in the gallery of the Odeon, whenyou so clearly divined the prisoner's intentions, I should have said toyou: 'This fellow, friend Lecoq, will hasten to Madame Milner's house toinform her of his escape. Let us run after him. ' I shouldn't have triedto prevent his seeing her, mind. But when he had left the Hotel deMariembourg, I should have added: 'Now, let him go where he chooses; butattach yourself to Madame Milner; don't lose sight of her; cling toher as closely as her own shadow, for she will lead you to theaccomplice--that is to say--to the solution of the mystery. '"

"That's the truth; I see it now. "

"But instead of that, what did you do? You ran to the hotel, youterrified the boy! When a fisherman has cast his bait and the fish areswimming near, he doesn't sound a gong to frighten them all away!"

Thus it was that old Tabaret reviewed the entire course of investigationand pursuit, remodeling it in accordance with his own method ofinduction. Lecoq had originally had a magnificent inspiration. In hisfirst investigations he had displayed remarkable talent; and yet he hadnot succeeded. Why? Simply because he had neglected the axiom with whichhe started: "Always distrust what seems probable!"

But the young man listened to the oracle's "summing up" with dividedattention. A thousand projects were darting through his brain, and atlength he could no longer restrain himself. "You have saved me fromdespair, " he exclaimed, "I thought everything was lost; but I see thatmy blunders can be repaired. What I neglected to do, I can do now; thereis still time. Haven't I the diamond earring, as well as various effectsbelonging to the prisoner, still in my possession? Madame Milner stillowns the Hotel de Mariembourg, and I will watch her. "

"And what for, my boy?"

"What for? Why, to find my fugitive, to be sure!"

Had the young detective been less engrossed with his idea, he would havedetected a slight smile that curved Papa Tirauclair's thick lips. 

"Ah, my son! is it possible that you don't suspect the real name of thispretended buffoon?" inquired the oracle somewhat despondently. 

Lecoq trembled and averted his face. He did not wish Tabaret to see hiseyes. "No, " he replied, "I don't suspect--"

"You are uttering a falsehood!" interrupted the sick man. "You know aswell as I do, that May resides in the Rue de Grenelle-Saint-Germain, andthat he is known as the Duc de Sairmeuse. "

On hearing these words, Father Absinthe indulged in a hearty laugh: "Ah!that's a good joke!" he exclaimed. "Ah, ha!"

Such was not Lecoq's opinion, however. "Well, yes, Monsieur Tabaret, "said he, "the idea did occur to me; but I drove it away. "

"And why, if you please?"

"Because--because--"

"Because you would not believe in the logical sequence of your premises;but I am consistent, and I say that it seems impossible the murdererarrested in the Widow Chupin's drinking den should be the Duc deSairmeuse. Hence, the murderer arrested there, May, the pretendedbuffoon, is the Duc de Sairmeuse!"

XXV

How this idea had entered old Tabaret's head, Lecoq could notunderstand. A vague suspicion had, it is true, flitted through his ownmind; but it was in a moment of despair when he was distracted at havinglost May, and when certain of Couturier's remarks furnished the excusefor any ridiculous supposition. And yet now Father Tirauclair calmlyproclaimed this suspicion--which Lecoq had not dared seriously toentertain, even for an instant--to be an undoubted fact. 

"You look as if you had suddenly fallen from the clouds, " exclaimed theoracle, noticing his visitor's amazement. "Do you suppose that I spokeat random like a parrot?"

"No, certainly not, but--"

"Tush! You are surprised because you know nothing of contemporaryhistory. If you don't wish to remain all your life a common detective, like your friend Gevrol, you must read, and make yourself familiar withall the leading events of the century. "

"I must confess that I don't see the connection. "

M. Tabaret did not deign to reply. Turning to Father Absinthe, herequested the old detective, in the most affable tones, to go to thelibrary and fetch two large volumes entitled: "General Biography ofthe Men of the Present Age, " which he would find in the bookcase on theright. Father Absinthe hastened to obey; and as soon as the books werebrought, M. Tabaret began turning the pages with an eager hand, like aperson seeking some word in a dictionary. 

"Esbayron, " he muttered, "Escars, Escayrac, Escher, Escodica--at lastwe have it--Escorval! Listen attentively, my boy, and you will beenlightened. "

This injunction was entirely unnecessary. Never had the youngdetective's faculties been more keenly on the alert. It was in anemphatic voice that the sick man then read: "Escorval (Louis-Guillaume, baron d'). --Diplomatist and politician, born at Montaignac, December3d, 1769; of an old family of lawyers. He was completing his studies inParis at the outbreak of the Revolution and embraced the popularcause with all the ardor of youth. But, soon disapproving the excessescommitted in the name of Liberty, he sided with the Reactionists, advised, perhaps, by Roederer, who was one of his relatives. Commendedto the favor of the First Counsel by M. De Talleyrand, he beganhis diplomatic career with a mission to Switzerland; and during theexistence of the First Empire he was entrusted with many importantnegotiations. Devoted to the Emperor, he found himself gravelycompromised at the advent of the Second Restoration. At the time of thecelebrated rising at Montaignac, he was arrested on the double charge ofhigh treason and conspiracy. He was tried by a military commission, andcondemned to death. The sentence was not executed, however. He owed hislife to the noble devotion and heroic energy of a priest, one of hisfriends, the Abbe Midon, cure of the little village of Sairmeuse. Thebaron d'Escorval had only one son, who embraced the judicial professionat a very early age. "

Lecoq was intensely disappointed. "I understand, " he remarked. "Thisis the biography of our magistrate's father. Only I don't see that itteaches us anything. "

An ironical smile curved old Tirauclair's lips. "It teaches us thatM. D'Escorval's father was condemned to death, " he replied. "That'ssomething, I assure you. A little patience, and you will soon knoweverything. "

Having found a new leaf, he recommenced to read: "Sairmeuse(Anne-Marie-Victor de Tingry, Duc de). --A French general and politician, born at the chateau de Sairmeuse, near Montaignac, in 1758. TheSairmeuse family is one of the oldest and most illustrious in France. Itmust not be confounded with the ducal family of Sermeuse, whose name iswritten with an 'e. ' Leaving France at the beginning of the Revolution, Anne de Sairmeuse began by serving in the army of Conde. Some yearslater he offered his sword to Russia; and it is asserted by some of hisbiographers that he was fighting in the Russian ranks at the time of thedisastrous retreat from Moscow. Returning to France with the Bourbons, he became notorious by the intensity of his ultra-royalist opinions. It is certain that he had the good fortune to regain possession of hisimmense family estates; and the rank and dignities which he had gainedin foreign lands were confirmed. Appointed by the king to preside at themilitary commission charged with arresting and trying the conspiratorsof Montaignac his zeal and severity resulted in the capture andconviction of all the parties implicated. "

Lecoq sprang up with sparkling eyes. "I see it clearly now, " heexclaimed. "The father of the present Duc de Sairmeuse tried to have thefather of the present M. D'Escorval beheaded. "

M. Tabaret was the picture of complacency. "You see the assistancehistory gives, " said he. "But I have not finished, my boy; the presentDuc de Sairmeuse also has his article which will be of interest to us. So listen: Sairmeuse (Anne-Marie-Martial)--Son of the preceding, wasborn in London toward the close of the last century; received his earlyeducation in England, and completed it at the Court of Austria, whichhe subsequently visited on several confidential missions. Heir to theopinions, prejudices, and animosities of his father, he placed at theservice of his party a highly cultivated intellect, unusual penetration, and extraordinary abilities. A leader at a time when political passionwas raging highest, he had the courage to assume the sole responsibilityof the most unpopular measures. The hostility he encountered, howevereventually obliged him to retire from office, leaving behind himanimosities likely to terminate only with his life. "

The sick man closed the book, and with assumed modesty, he asked: "Ah, well! What do you think of my little method of induction?"

But Lecoq was too much engrossed with his own thoughts to reply to thisquestion. "I think, " he remarked, "that if the Duc de Sairmeuse haddisappeared for two months--the period of May's imprisonment, all Pariswould have known of it--and so--"

"You are dreaming, " interrupted Tabaret. "Why with his wife and hisvalet de chambre for accomplices, the duke could absent himself for ayear if he liked, and yet all his servants would believe him to be inthe house. "

"I admit that, " said Lecoq, at last; "but unfortunately, there is onecircumstance which completely upsets the theory we have built up solaboriously. "

"And what is that if you please?"

"If the man who took part in the broil at the Poivriere had been the Ducde Sairmeuse, he would have disclosed his name--he would have declaredthat, having been attacked, he had only defended himself--and his namealone would have opened the prison doors. Instead of that, what did theprisoner do? He attempted to kill himself. Would a grand seigneur, likethe Duc de Sairmeuse, to whom life must be a perpetual enchantment, havethought of committing suicide?"

A mocking whistle from the old Tabaret interrupted the speaker. "Youseem to have forgotten the last sentence in his biography: 'M. Sairmeuseleaves behind him ill-will and hatred. ' Do you know the price he mighthave been compelled to pay for his liberty! No--no more do I. To explainhis presence at the Poivriere, and the presence of a woman, who wasperhaps his wife, who knows what disgraceful secrets he would havebeen obliged to reveal? Between shame and suicide, he chose suicide. Hewished to save his name and honor intact. "

Old Tirauclair spoke with such vehemence that even Father Absinthe wasdeeply impressed, although, to tell the truth, he had understood butlittle of the conversation. 

As for Lecoq, he rose very pale, his lips trembling a little. "You willexcuse my hypocrisy, Monsieur Tabaret, " he said in an agitated voice. "I only offered these last objections for form's sake. I had thought ofwhat you now say, but I distrusted myself, and I wanted to hear you sayit yourself. " Then with an imperious gesture, he added: "Now, I knowwhat I have to do. "

Old Tabaret raised his hands toward heaven with every sign of intensedismay. "Unhappy man!" he exclaimed; "do you think of going to arrestthe Duc de Sairmeuse! Poor Lecoq! Free, this man is almost omnipotent, and you, an infinitesimal agent of police, would be shattered as easilyas glass. Take care, my boy, don't attack the duke. I wouldn't beresponsible for the consequences. You might imperil your life. "

The young detective shook his head. "Oh! I don't deceive myself, " saidhe. "I know that the duke is far beyond my reach--at least for thepresent. But he will be in my power again, the day I learn his secret. I don't fear danger; but I know, that if I am to succeed, I must concealmyself, and so I will. Yes, I will remain in the shade until I canunveil this mystery; but then I shall reappear in my true character. Andif May be really the Duc de Sairmeuse, I shall have my revenge. "