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 s
trategy, 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 Ruede 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's
going 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.