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, the
n 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 com
e, for the most importantpart of his task was completed.