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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 her
e. 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--"
&n
bsp; 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.
Monsieur Lecoq, v. 1 Page 14
