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 o
f 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 new 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 ha
d 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 mere 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!"
Monsieur Lecoq, v. 1 Page 3
