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 y
oung 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!"