XV
Mardi Gras, or Shrove Tuesday, was very gay that year; that is to say,all places of public resort were crowded. When Lecoq left the Hotel deMariembourg about midnight, the streets were as full as if it had beennoonday, and the cafes were thronged with customers.
But the young detective had no heart for pleasure. He mingled with thecrowd without seemingly seeing it, and jostled against groups of peoplechatting at the corners, without hearing the imprecations occasionedby his awkwardness. Where was he going? He had no idea. He walkedaimlessly, more disconsolate and desperate than the gambler who hadstaked his last hope with his last louis, and lost.
"I must yield," he murmured; "this evidence is conclusive. Mypresumptions were only chimeras; my deductions the playthings of chance!All I can now do is to withdraw, with the least possible damage andridicule, from the false position I have assumed."
Just as he reached the boulevard, however, a new idea entered his brain,an idea of so startling a kind that he could scarcely restrain a loudexclamation of surprise. "What a fool I am!" cried he, striking hishand violently against his forehead. "Is it possible to be so strong intheory, and yet so ridiculously weak in practise? Ah! I am only a child,a mere novice, disheartened by the slightest obstacle. I meet witha difficulty, and at once I lose all my courage. Now, let me reflectcalmly. What did I tell the judge about this murderer, whose plan ofdefense so puzzles us? Did I not tell him that we had to deal with aman of superior talent--with a man of consummate penetration andexperience--a bold, courageous fellow of imperturbable coolness, whowill do anything to insure the success of his plans? Yes; I told himall that, and yet I give up the game in despair as soon as I meet with asingle circumstance that I can not instantly explain. It is evidentthat such a prisoner would not resort to old, hackneyed, commonplaceexpedients. Time, patience, and research are requisite to find a flaw inhis defense. With such a man as he is, the more appearances are againstmy presumptions, and in favor of his narrative, the more certain it isthat I am right--or else logic is no longer logic."
At this thought, Lecoq burst into a hearty laugh. "Still," continued he,"it would perhaps be premature to expose this theory at headquarters inGevrol's presence. He would at once present me with a certificate foradmission into some lunatic asylum."
The young detective paused. While absorbed in thought, his legs, obeyingan instinctive impulse, had brought him to his lodgings. He rang thebell; the door opened, and he groped his way slowly up to the fourthfloor. He had reached his room, and was about to enter, when some one,whom he could not distinguish in the dark, called out: "Is that you,Monsieur Lecoq?"
"Yes, it's I!" replied the young man, somewhat surprised; "but who areyou?"
"I'm Father Absinthe."
"Oh! indeed! Well, you are welcome! I didn't recognize your voice--willyou come in?"
They entered the room, and Lecoq lit a candle. Then the young man couldsee his colleague, and, good heavens! he found him in a most pitiablecondition.
He was as dirty and as bespattered with mud as a lost dog that has beenwandering about in the rain and the mire for a week at the very least.His overcoat bore the traces of frequent contact with damp walls; hishat had lost its form entirely. His eyes wore an anxious look, and hismustache drooped despondently. He spoke, moreover, so strangely that onemight have supposed his mouth was full of sand.
"Do you bring me bad news?" inquired Lecoq, after a short examination ofhis companion.
"Yes, bad."
"The people you were following escaped you, then?"
The old man nodded his head affirmatively.
"It is unfortunate--very unfortunate!" said Lecoq. "But it is uselessto distress ourselves about it. Don't be so cast down, Father Absinthe.To-morrow, between us, we will repair the damage."
This friendly encouragement only increased the old man's evidentembarrassment. He blushed, this veteran, as if he had been a schoolgirl,and raising his hands toward heaven, he exclaimed: "Ah, you wretch!didn't I tell you so?"
"Why! what is the matter with you?" inquired Lecoq.
Father Absinthe made no reply. Approaching a looking-glass that hungagainst the wall, he surveyed himself reproachfully and began to heapcruel insults upon the reflection of his features.
"You old good-for-nothing!" he exclaimed. "You vile deserter! have youno shame left? You were entrusted with a mission, were you not? And howhave you fulfilled it? You have got drunk, you old wretch, so drunk asto have lost your wits. Ah, you shan't escape punishment this time, foreven if M. Lecoq is indulgent, you shan't taste another drop for a week.Yes, you old sot, you shall suffer for this escapade."
"Come, come," said Lecoq, "you can sermonize by and by. Now tell me yourstory."
"Ah! I am not proud of it, believe me. However, never mind. No doubt youreceived the letter in which I told you I was going to follow the youngmen who seemed to recognize Gustave?"
"Yes, yes--go on!"
"Well, as soon as they entered the cafe, into which I had followed them,they began drinking, probably to drive away their emotion. After thatthey apparently felt hungry. At all events they ordered breakfast. Ifollowed their example. The meal, with coffee and beer afterward, tookup no little time, and indeed a couple of hours had elapsed before theywere ready to pay their bill and go. Good! I supposed they would nowreturn home. Not at all. They walked down the Rue Dauphin; and I sawthem enter another cafe. Five minutes later I glided in after them; andfound them already engaged in a game of billiards."
At this point Father Absinthe hesitated; it is no easy task to recountone's blunders to the very person who has suffered by them.
"I seated myself at a little table," he eventually resumed, "and askedfor a newspaper. I was reading with one eye and watching with the other,when a respectable-looking man entered, and took a seat beside me. Assoon as he had seated himself he asked me to let him have the paper whenI had finished with it. I handed it to him, and then we began talkingabout the weather. At last he proposed a game of bezique. I declined,but we afterward compromised the matter by having a game of piquet. Theyoung men, you understand, were still knocking the balls about. We beganby playing for a glass of brandy each. I won. My adversary asked forhis revenge, and we played two games more. I still kept on winning.He insisted upon another game, and again I won, and still I drank--anddrank again--"
"Go on, go on."
"Ah! here's the rub. After that I remember nothing--nothing eitherabout the man I had been playing with or the young men. It seems to me,however, that I recollect falling asleep in the cafe, and that a longwhile afterward a waiter came and woke me and told me to go. Then Imust have wandered about along the quays until I came to my senses,and decided to go to your lodgings and wait on the stairs until youreturned."
To Father Absinthe's great surprise, Lecoq seemed rather thoughtfulthan angry. "What do you think about this chance acquaintance of yours,papa?" asked the young detective.
"I think he was following me while I was following the others, and thathe entered the cafe with the view of making me drunk."
"What was he like?"
"Oh, he was a tall, stoutish man, with a broad, red face, and a flatnose; and he was very unpretending and affable in manner.
"It was he!" exclaimed Lecoq.
"He! Who?"
"Why, the accomplice--the man whose footprints we discovered--thepretended drunkard--a devil incarnate, who will get the best of us yet,if we don't keep our eyes open. Don't you forget him, papa; and if youever meet him again--"
But Father Absinthe's confession was not ended. Like most devotees, hehad reserved the worst sin for the last.
"But that's not all," he resumed; "and as it's best to make a cleanbreast of it, I will tell you that it seems to me this traitor talkedabout the affair at the Poivriere, and that I told him all we haddiscovered, and all we intended to do."
Lecoq made such a threatening gesture that the old tippler drew back inconsternation. "You wretched man!" exclaimed the young detective, "tobetray
our plans to the enemy!"
But his calmness soon returned. If at first sight the evil seemed tobe beyond remedy, on further thought it had a good side after all. Itsufficed to dispel all the doubts that had assailed Lecoq's mind afterhis visit to the Hotel de Mariembourg.
"However," quoth our hero, "this is not the time for deliberation. Iam overcome with fatigue; take a mattress from the bed for yourself, myfriend, and let us get a little sleep."
Lecoq was a man of considerable forethought. Hence, before going to bedhe took good care to wind up his alarm so that it might wake him at sixo'clock. "With that to warn us," he remarked to his companion, as heblew out the candle, "there need be no fear of our missing the coach."
He had not, however, made allowance for his own extreme weariness orfor the soporific effect of the alcoholic fumes with which his comrade'sbreath was redolent. When six o'clock struck at the church of St.Eustache, the young detective's alarm resounded faithfully enough, witha loud and protracted whir. Shrill and sonorous as was the sound, itfailed, however, to break the heavy sleep of the two detectives. Theywould indeed, in all probability, have continued slumbering for severalhours longer, if at half-past seven a sturdy fist had not begun torap loudly at the door. With one bound Lecoq was out of bed, amazedat seeing the bright sunlight, and furious at the futility of hisprecautions.
"Come in!" he cried to his early visitor. He had no enemies to fear, andcould, without danger, sleep with his door unlocked.
In response to his call, Father Papillon's shrewd face peered into theroom.
"Ah! it is my worthy coachman!" exclaimed Lecoq. "Is there anythingnew?"
"Excuse me, but it's the old affair that brings me here," replied oureccentric friend the cabman. "You know--the thirty francs those wretchedwomen paid me. Really, I shan't sleep in peace till you have worked offthe amount by using my vehicle. Our drive yesterday lasted two hours anda half, which, according to the regular fare, would be worth a hundredsous; so you see I've still more than twelve hours at your disposal."
"That is all nonsense, my friend!"
"Possibly, but I am responsible for it, and if you won't use my cab,I've sworn to spend those twelve hours waiting outside your door. So nowmake up your mind." He gazed at Lecoq beseechingly, and it was evidentthat a refusal would wound him keenly.
"Very well," replied Lecoq, "I will take you for the morning, only Iought to warn you that we are starting on a long journey."
"Oh, Cocotte's legs may be relied upon."
"My companion and myself have business in your own neighborhood. It isabsolutely necessary for us to find the Widow Chupin's daughter-in-law;and I hope we shall be able to obtain her address from the policecommissary of the district where the Poivriere is situated."
"Very well, we will go wherever you wish; I am at your orders."
A few moments later they were on their way.
Papillon's features wore an air of self-satisfied pride as, sittingerect on his box, he cracked his whip, and encouraged the nimbleCocotte. The vehicle could not have got over the ground more rapidly ifits driver had been promised a hundred sous' gratuity.
Father Absinthe alone was sad. He had been forgiven by Lecoq, but hecould not forget that he, an old police agent, had been duped as easilyas if he had been some ignorant provincial. The thought was humiliating,and then in addition he had been fool enough to reveal the secret plansof the prosecution! He knew but too well that this act of folly haddoubled the difficulties of Lecoq's task.
The long drive in Father Papillon's cab was not a fruitless one. Thesecretary of the commissary of police for the thirteenth arrondissementinformed Lecoq that Polyte Chupin's wife lived with her child, in thesuburbs, in the Rue de la Butte-aux-Cailles. He could not indicatethe precise number, but he described the house and gave them someinformation concerning its occupants.
The Widow Chupin's daughter-in-law, a native of Auvergne, had beenbitterly punished for preferring a rakish Parisian ragamuffin to one ofthe grimy charcoal-burners of the Puy de Dome. She was hardly more thantwelve years of age when she first came to Paris and obtained employmentin a large factory. After ten years' privation and constant toil, shehad managed to amass, sou by sou, the sum of three thousand francs. Thenher evil genius threw Polyte Chupin across her path. She fell in lovewith this dissipated, selfish rascal; and he married her for the sake ofher little hoard.
As long as the money lasted, that is, for some three or four months,matters went on pleasantly enough. But as soon as the last franc hadbeen spent, Polyte left his wife, and complacently resumed his formerlife of idleness, thieving, and debauchery. When at times he returnedhome, it was merely with the view of robbing his wife of what littlemoney she might have saved in the mean while; and periodically sheuncomplainingly allowed him to despoil her of the last penny of herearnings.
Horrible to relate, this unworthy rascal even tried to trade on her goodlooks. Here, however, he met with a strenuous resistance--a resistancewhich excited not merely his own ire, but also the hatred of thevillain's mother--that old hag, the Widow Chupin. The result was thatPolyte's wife was subjected to such incessant cruelty and persecutionthat one night she was forced to fly with only the rags that coveredher. The Chupins--mother and son--believed, perhaps, that starvationwould effect what their horrible threats and insidious counsel hadfailed to accomplish. Their shameful expectations were not, however,gratified.
In mentioning these facts to Lecoq, the commissary's secretary addedthat they had become widely known, and that the unfortunate creature'sforce of character had won for her general respect. Among those shefrequented, moreover, she was known by the nickname of "Toinon theVirtuous"--a rather vulgar but, at all events, sincere tribute to herworth.
Grateful for this information, Lecoq returned to the cab. The Rue de laButte-aux-Cailles, whither Papillon was now directed to drive, proved tobe very unlike the Boulevard Malesherbes, and one brief glance sufficedto show that opulence had not here fixed its abode. Luck seemed forthe moment to have turned in Lecoq's favor. At all events, when he andFather Absinthe alighted at the corner of the street, it so happenedthat the very first person the young detective questioned concerning thevirtuous Toinon was well acquainted with her whereabouts. The housein which she resided was pointed out, and Lecoq was instructed to goupstairs to the top floor, and knock at the door in front of him. Withsuch precise directions the two detectives speedily reached MadamePolyte Chupin's abode.
This proved to be a cold and gloomy attic of medium size, windowless,but provided with a small skylight. A straw pallet, a broken table,two chairs, and a few plain kitchen utensils constituted the soleappointments of this miserable garret. But in spite of the occupant'sevident poverty, everything was neat and clean, and to use a forcibleexpression that fell from Father Absinthe, one could have eaten off thefloor.
The two detectives entered, and found a woman busily engaged in makinga heavy linen sack. She was seated in the centre of the room, directlyunder the skylight, so that the sun's rays might fall upon her work. Atthe sight of two strangers, she half rose from her chair, surprised,and perhaps a little frightened; but when Lecoq had explained that theydesired a few moments' conversation with her, she gave up her own seat,and drawing the second chair from a corner, invited both detectives tosit down. Lecoq complied, but Father Absinthe declared that he preferredto remain standing.
With a single glance Lecoq took an inventory of the humble abode,and, so to speak, appraised the woman. She was short, stout, and ofcommonplace appearance. Her forehead was extremely low, being crowned bya forest of coarse, black hair; while the expression of her large, blackeyes, set very close together, recalled the look of patient resignationone so often detects in ill-treated and neglected animals. Possibly, informer days, she might have possessed that fleeting attraction calledthe _beaute du diable_; but now she looked almost as old as her wretchedmother-in-law. Sorrow and privation, excessive toil and ill-treatment,had imparted to her face a livid hue, reddening her eyes and stampingdeep furr
ows round about her temples. Still, there was an attribute ofnative honesty about her which even the foul atmosphere in which she hadbeen compelled to live had not sufficed to taint.
Her little boy furnished a striking contrast. He was pale and puny; hiseyes gleamed with a phosphorescent brilliancy; and his hair was of afaded flaxen tint. One little circumstance attracted both detectives'attention. If the mother was attired in an old, thin, faded calicodress, the child was warmly clad in stout woolen material.
"Madame, you have doubtless heard of a dreadful crime, committed in yourmother-in-law's establishment," began Lecoq in a soft voice.
"Alas! yes, sir," replied Toinon the Virtuous, quickly adding: "But myhusband could not have been implicated in it, since he is in prison."
Did not this objection, forestalling, as it were, suspicion, betray themost horrible apprehensions?
"Yes, I am aware of that," replied Lecoq. "Polyte was arrested afortnight ago--"
"Yes, and very unjustly, sir," replied the neglected wife. "He was ledastray by his companions, wicked, desperate men. He is so weak when hehas taken a glass of wine that they can do whatever they like with him.If he were only left to himself he would not harm a child. You have onlyto look at him--"
As she spoke, the virtuous Toinon turned her red and swollen eyes toa miserable photograph hanging against the wall. This blotchy smudgeportrayed an exceedingly ugly, dissipated-looking young man, afflictedwith a terrible squint, and whose repulsive mouth was partiallyconcealed by a faint mustache. This rake of the barrieres was PolyteChupin. And yet despite his unprepossessing aspect there was nomistaking the fact that this unfortunate woman loved him--had alwaysloved him; besides, he was her husband.
A moment's silence followed her indication of the portrait--an act whichclearly revealed how deeply she worshiped her persecutor; and duringthis pause the attic door slowly and softly opened. Not of itself,however, for suddenly a man's head peered in. The intruder, whoever hewas, instantly withdrew, uttering as he did so a low exclamation. Thedoor was swiftly closed again; the key--which had been left on theoutside--grated in the lock, and the occupants of the garret could hearhurried steps descending the stairs.
Lecoq was sitting with his back to the door, and could not, therefore,see the intruder's face. Quickly as he had turned, he had failed to seewho it was: and yet he was far from being surprised at the incident.Intuition explained its meaning.
"That must have been the accomplice!" he cried.
Thanks to his position, Father Absinthe had seen the man's face."Yes," said he, "yes, it was the same man who made me drink with himyesterday."
With a bound, both detectives threw themselves against the door,exhausting their strength in vain attempts to open it. It resisted alltheir efforts, for it was of solid oak, having been purchased by thelandlord from some public building in process of demolition, and it was,moreover, furnished with a strong and massive fastening.
"Help us!" cried Father Absinthe to the woman, who stood petrified withastonishment; "give us a bar, a piece of iron, a nail--anything!"
The younger man was making frantic efforts to push back the bolt, orto force the lock from the wood. He was wild with rage. At last, havingsucceeded in forcing the door open, they dashed out in pursuit of theirmysterious adversary. On reaching the street, they eagerly questionedthe bystanders. Having described the man as best they could, they foundtwo persons who had seen him enter the house of Toinon the Virtuous, anda third who had seen him as he left. Some children who were playing inthe middle of the street added that he had run off in the direction ofthe Rue du Moulin-des-Pres as fast as his legs could carry him. It wasin this street, near the corner of the Rue de la Butte-aux-Cailles, thatLecoq had left old Papillon waiting with the cab.
"Let us hasten there!" proposed Father Absinthe; "perhaps Papillon cangive us some information."
But Lecoq shook his head despondently. He would go no further. "It wouldbe of no use," he said. "He had sufficient presence of mind to turnthe key in the lock, and that saved him. He is at least ten minutes inadvance of us, and we should never overtake him."
Father Absinthe could not restrain his anger. He looked upon thismysterious accomplice who had so cruelly duped him as a personal enemy,and he would willingly have given a month's pay to be able to lay hishand on his shoulder. Lecoq was quite as angry as his subordinate, andhis vanity was likewise wounded; he felt, however, that coolness anddeliberation were necessary.
"Yes," said he thoughtfully, "he's a shrewd and daring fellow--a perfectdemon. He doesn't remain idle. If we are working, he's at work too. Nomatter what side I turn, I find him on the defensive. He foiled you,papa, in your effort to obtain a clue concerning Gustave's identity; andhe made me appear a fool in arranging that little comedy at the Hotel deMariembourg. His diligence has been wonderful. He has hitherto been inadvance of us everywhere, and this fact explains the failures that haveattended all my efforts. Here we arrive before him. But if he came here,it was because he scented danger. Hence, we may hope. Now let us getback and question Polyte's wife."
Alas! poor Toinon the Virtuous did not understand the affair at all. Shehad remained upstairs, holding her child by the hand, and leaning overthe baluster; her mind in great perplexity and her eyes and ears on thealert. As soon as she perceived the two detectives coming up the stairsagain, she hastened down to meet them. "In the name of heaven, what doesthis all mean?" she asked. "Whatever has happened?"
But Lecoq was not the man to tell his business on a landing, withinquisitive ears all around him, and before he answered Toinon he madeher go up into her own garret, and securely close the door.
"We started in pursuit of a man who is implicated in the murders at thePoivriere," he said; "one who came here hoping to find you alone, whowas frightened at seeing us."
"A murderer!" faltered Toinon, with clasped hands. "What could he wantof me?"
"Who knows? It is very probable that he is one of your husband'sfriends."
"Oh! sir."
"Why, did you not tell me just now that Polyte had some very undesirableacquaintances? But don't be alarmed; this does not compromise him in theleast. Besides, you can very easily clear him of all suspicion."
"How? In what way? Oh, tell me at once."
"Merely by answering me frankly, and by assisting me to find the guiltyparty. Now, among your husband's friends, don't you know any who mightbe capable of such a deed? Give me the names of his acquaintances."
The poor woman's hesitation was evident; undoubtedly she had beenpresent at many sinister cabals, and had been threatened with terriblepunishment if she dared to disclose the plans formed by Polyte or hisassociates.
"You have nothing to fear," said Lecoq, encouragingly, "and I promiseyou no one shall ever know that you have told me a word. Very probablyyou can tell me nothing more than I know already. I have heard a greatdeal about your former life, and the brutality with which Polyte and hismother have treated you."
"My husband has never treated me brutally," said the young woman,indignantly; "besides, that matter would only concern myself."
"And your mother-in-law?"
"She is, perhaps, a trifle quick-tempered; but in reality she has a goodheart."
"Then, if you were so happy at the Widow Chupin's house, why did you flyfrom it?"
Toinon the Virtuous turned scarlet to the very roots of her hair. "Ileft for other reasons," she replied. "There were always a great manydrunken men about the house; and, sometimes, when I was alone, some ofthem tried to carry their pleasantry too far. You may say that I have asolid fist of my own, and that I am quite capable of protecting myself.That's true. But while I was away one day some fellows were wickedenough to make this child drink to such an excess that when I came homeI found him as stiff and cold as if he were dead. It was necessary tofetch a doctor or else--"
She suddenly paused; her eyes dilated. From red she turned livid, and ina hoarse, unnatural voice, she cried: "Toto! wretched child!"
Lecoq looked beh
ind him, and shuddered. He understood everything. Thischild--not yet five years old--had stolen up behind him, and, ferretingin the pockets of his overcoat, had rifled them of their contents.
"Ah, well--yes!" exclaimed the unfortunate mother, bursting into tears."That's how it was. Directly the child was out of my sight, they used totake him into town. They took him into the crowded streets, and taughthim to pick people's pockets, and bring them everything he could lay hishands on. If the child was detected they were angry with him and beathim; and if he succeeded they gave him a sou to buy some sweets, andkept what he had taken."
The luckless Toinon hid her face in her hands, and sobbed in an almostunintelligible voice: "Ah, I did not wish my little one to be a thief."
But what this poor creature did not tell was that the man who had ledthe child out into the streets, to teach him to steal, was his ownfather, and her husband--the ruffian, Polyte Chupin. The two detectivesplainly understood, however, that such was the case, and the father'scrime was so horrible, and the woman's grief so great, that, familiar asthey were with all the phases of crime, their very hearts were touched.Lecoq's main thought, however, was to shorten this painful scene. Thepoor mother's emotion was a sufficient guarantee of her sincerity.
"Listen," said he, with affected harshness. "Two questions only,and then I will leave you. Was there a man named Gustave among thefrequenters of the Poivriere?"
"No, sir, I'm quite sure there wasn't."
"Very well. But Lacheneur--you must know Lacheneur!"
"Yes, sir; I know him."
The young police agent could not repress an exclamation of delight. "Atlast," thought he, "I have a clue that may lead me to the truth. Whatkind of man is he?" he asked with intense anxiety.
"Oh! he is not at all like the other men who come to drink at mymother-in-law's shop. I have only seen him once; but I remember himperfectly. It was on a Sunday. He was in a cab. He stopped at the cornerof the waste ground and spoke to Polyte. When he went away, my husbandsaid to me: 'Do you see that old man there? He will make all ourfortunes.' I thought him a very respectable-looking gentleman--"
"That's enough," interrupted Lecoq. "Now it is necessary for you totell the investigating magistrate all you know about him. I have a cabdownstairs. Take your child with you, if you like; but make haste; come,come quickly!"
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