XXII
It was six o'clock, and the dawn was just breaking when Father Absintheand his companion reached the station-house, where they found thesuperintendent seated at a small table, making out his report. Hedid not move when they entered, failing to recognize them under theirdisguises. But when they mentioned their names, he rose with evidentcordiality, and held out his hand.
"Upon my word!" said he, "I congratulate you on your capture lastnight."
Father Absinthe and Lecoq exchanged an anxious look. "What capture?"they both asked in a breath.
"Why, that individual you sent me last night so carefully bound."
"Well, what about him?"
The superintendent burst into a hearty laugh. "So you are ignorant ofyour good fortune," said he. "Ah! luck has favored you, and you willreceive a handsome reward."
"Pray tell us what we've captured?" asked Father Absinthe, impatiently.
"A scoundrel of the deepest dye, an escaped convict, who has beenmissing for three months. You must have a description of him in yourpocket--Joseph Couturier, in short."
On hearing these words, Lecoq became so frightfully pale that FatherAbsinthe, fearing he was going to faint, raised his arms to preventhis falling. A chair stood close by, however, and on this Lecoq allowedhimself to drop. "Joseph Couturier," he faltered, evidently unconsciousof what he was saying. "Joseph Couturier! an escaped convict!"
The superintendent certainly did not understand Lecoq's agitation anybetter than Father Absinthe's discomfited air.
"You have reason to be proud of your work; your success will make asensation this morning," he repeated. "You have captured a famous prize.I can see Gevrol's nose now when he hears the news. Only yesterdayhe was boasting that he alone was capable of securing this dangerousrascal."
After such an irreparable failure as that which had overtaken Lecoq,the unintended irony of these compliments was bitter in the extreme.The superintendent's words of praise fell on his ears like so many blowsfrom a sledge hammer.
"You must be mistaken," he eventually remarked, rising from his seat andsummoning all his energy to his assistance. "That man is not Couturier."
"Oh, I'm not mistaken; you may be quite sure of that. He fully answersthe description appended to the circular ordering his capture, and eventhe little finger of his left hand is lacking, as is mentioned."
"Ah! that's a proof indeed!" groaned Father Absinthe.
"It is indeed. And I know another one more conclusive still. Couturieris an old acquaintance of mine. I have had him in custody before; and herecognized me last night just as I recognized him."
After this further argument was impossible; hence it was in an entirelydifferent tone that Lecoq remarked: "At least, my friend, you will allowme to address a few questions to your prisoner."
"Oh! as many as you like. But first of all, let us bar the door andplace two of my men before it. This Couturier has a fondness for theopen air, and he wouldn't hesitate to dash out our brains if he only sawa chance of escape."
After taking these precautions, the man was removed from the cage inwhich he had been confined. He stepped forward with a smile on his face,having already recovered that nonchalant manner common to old offenderswho, when in custody, seem to lose all feeling of anger against thepolice. They are not unlike those gamblers who, after losing their lasthalfpenny, nevertheless willingly shake hands with their adversary.
Couturier at once recognized Lecoq. "Ah!" said he, "It was you who didthat business last night. You can boast of having a solid fist! You fellupon me very unexpectedly; and the back of my neck is still the worsefor your clutch."
"Then, if I were to ask a favor of you, you wouldn't be disposed togrant it?"
"Oh, yes! all the same. I have no more malice in my composition than achicken; and I rather like your face. What do you want of me?"
"I should like to have some information about the man who accompaniedyou last night."
Couturier's face darkened. "I am really unable to give you any," hereplied.
"Why?"
"Because I don't know him. I never saw him before last night."
"It's hard to believe that. A fellow doesn't enlist the first-comer foran expedition like yours last evening. Before undertaking such a jobwith a man, one finds out something about him."
"I don't say I haven't been guilty of a stupid blunder," repliedCouturier. "Indeed I could murder myself for it, but there was nothingabout the man to make me suspect that he belonged to the secret-service.He spread a net for me, and I jumped into it. It was made for me, ofcourse; but it wasn't necessary for me to put my foot into it."
"You are mistaken, my man," said Lecoq. "The individual in questiondidn't belong to the police force. I pledge you my word of honor, hedidn't."
For a moment Couturier surveyed Lecoq with a knowing air, as if he hopedto discover whether he were speaking the truth or attempting to deceivehim. "I believe you," he said at last. "And to prove it I'll tell youhow it happened. I was dining alone last evening in a restaurant inthe Rue Mouffetard, when that man came in and took a seat beside me.Naturally we began to talk; and I thought him a very good sort of afellow. I forget how it began, but somehow or other he mentioned that hehad some clothes he wanted to sell; and being glad to oblige him, I tookhim to a friend, who bought them from him. It was doing him a good turn,wasn't it? Well, he offered me something to drink, and I returned thecompliment. We had a number of glasses together, and by midnight I beganto see double. He then began to propose a plan, which, he swore, wouldmake us both rich. It was to steal the plate from a superb mansion.There would be no risk for me; he would take charge of the whole affair.
"I had only to help him over the wall, and keep watch. The proposal wastempting--was it not? You would have thought so, if you had been in myplace, and yet I hesitated. But the fellow insisted. He swore that hewas acquainted with the habits of the house; that Monday evening was agrand gala night there, and that on these occasions the servants didn'tlock up the plate. After a little while I consented."
A fleeting flush tinged Lecoq's pale cheeks. "Are you sure he told youthat the Duc de Sairmeuse received every Monday evening?" he asked,eagerly.
"Certainly; how else could I have known it! He even mentioned the nameyou uttered just now, a name ending in 'euse.'"
A strange thought had just flitted through Lecoq's mind.
"What if May and the Duc de Sairmeuse should be one and the sameperson?" But the notion seemed so thoroughly absurd, so utterlyinadmissible that he quickly dismissed it, despising himself even forhaving entertained it for a single instant. He cursed his inveterateinclination always to look at events from a romantic impossible side,instead of considering them as natural commonplace incidents. After allthere was nothing surprising in the fact that a man of the world, suchas he supposed May to be, should know the day set aside by the Duc deSairmeuse for the reception of his friends.
The young detective had nothing more to expect from Couturier. Hethanked him, and after shaking hands with the superintendent, walkedaway, leaning on Father Absinthe's arm. For he really had need ofsupport. His legs trembled, his head whirled, and he felt sick bothin body and in mind. He had failed miserably, disgracefully. He hadflattered himself that he possessed a genius for his calling, and yet hehad been easily outwitted.
To rid himself of pursuit, May had only had to invent a pretendedaccomplice, and this simple stratagem had sufficed to nonplus those whowere on his trail.
Father Absinthe was rendered uneasy by his colleague's evidentdejection. "Where are we going?" he inquired; "to the Palais de Justice,or to the Prefecture de Police?"
Lecoq shuddered on hearing this question, which brought him face toface with the horrible reality of his situation. "To the Prefecture!" heresponded. "Why should I go there? To expose myself to Gevrol's insults,perhaps? I haven't courage enough for that. Nor do I feel that I havestrength to go to M. Segmuller and say: 'Forgive me: you have judged metoo favorably. I am a fool!'"
"W
hat are we to do?"
"Ah! I don't know. Perhaps I shall embark for America--perhaps I shallthrow myself into the river."
He had walked about a hundred yards when suddenly he stopped short."No!" he exclaimed, with a furious stamp of his foot. "No, thisaffair shan't end like this. I have sworn to have the solution of theenigma--and I will have it!" For a moment he reflected; then, in acalmer voice, he added: "There is one man who can save us, a man whowill see what I haven't been able to discern, who will understand thingsthat I couldn't. Let us go and ask his advice, my course will depend onhis reply--come!"
After such a day and such a night, it might have been expected thatthese two men would have felt an irresistible desire to sleep and rest.But Lecoq was sustained by wounded vanity, intense disappointment, andyet unextinguished hope of revenge: while poor Father Absinthe was notunlike some luckless cab-horse, which, having forgotten there is such athing as repose, is no longer conscious of fatigue, but travels on untilhe falls down dead. The old detective felt that his limbs were failinghim; but Lecoq said: "It is necessary," and so he walked on.
They both went to Lecoq's lodgings, where they laid aside theirdisguises and made themselves trim. Then after breakfasting they hastilybetook themselves to the Rue St. Lazare, where, entering one of the moststylish houses in the street, Lecoq inquired of the concierge: "Is M.Tabaret at home?"
"Yes, but he's ill," was the reply.
"Very ill?" asked Lecoq anxiously.
"It is hard to tell," replied the man: "it is his old complaint--gout."And with an air of hypocritical commiseration, he added: "M. Tabaret isnot wise to lead the life he does. Women are very well in a way, but athis age--"
The two detectives exchanged a meaning glance, and as soon as they wereout of hearing burst out laughing. Their hilarity had scarcely ceasedwhen they reached the first floor, and rang the bell at the door of oneof the apartments. The buxom-looking woman who appeared in answer to hissummons, informed them that her master would receive them, althoughhe was confined to his bed. "However, the doctor is with him now," sheadded. "But perhaps the gentlemen would not mind waiting until he hasgone?" The gentlemen replying in the affirmative, she then conductedthem into a handsome library, and invited them to sit down.
The person whom Lecoq had come to consult was a man celebrated forwonderful shrewdness and penetration, well-nigh exceeding the bounds ofpossibility. For five-and-forty years he had held a petty post in one ofthe offices of the Mont de Piete, just managing to exist upon the meagrestipend he received. Suddenly enriched by the death of a relative, ofwhom he had scarcely ever heard, he immediately resigned his functions,and the very next day began to long for the same employment he had sooften anathematized. In his endeavors to divert his mind, he beganto collect old books, and heaped up mountains of tattered, worm-eatenvolumes in immense oak bookcases. But despite this pastime to manyso attractive, he could not shake off his weariness. He grew thin andyellow, and his income of forty thousand francs was literally killinghim, when a sudden inspiration came to his relief. It came to him oneevening after reading the memoirs of a celebrated detective, one ofthose men of subtle penetration, soft as silk, and supple as steel, whomjustice sometimes sets upon the trail of crime.
"And I also am a detective!" he exclaimed.
This, however, he must prove. From that day forward he perused withfeverish interest every book he could find that had any connection withthe organization of the police service and the investigation of crime.Reports and pamphlets, letters and memoirs, he eagerly turned from oneto the other, in his desire to master his subject. Such learning as hemight find in books did not suffice, however, to perfect his education.Hence, whenever a crime came to his knowledge he started out in quest ofthe particulars and worked up the case by himself.
Soon these platonic investigations did not suffice, and one evening,at dusk, he summoned all his resolution, and, going on foot to thePrefecture de Police, humbly begged employment from the officials there.He was not very favorably received, for applicants were numerous. Buthe pleaded his cause so adroitly that at last he was charged with sometrifling commissions. He performed them admirably. The great difficultywas then overcome. Other matters were entrusted to him, and he soondisplayed a wonderful aptitude for his chosen work.
The case of Madame B----, the rich banker's wife, made him virtuallyfamous. Consulted at a moment when the police had abandoned all hope ofsolving the mystery, he proved by A plus B--by a mathematical deduction,so to speak--that the dear lady must have stolen her own property; andevents soon proved that he had told the truth. After this success he wasalways called upon to advise in obscure and difficult cases.
It would be difficult to tell his exact status at the Prefecture. Whena person is employed, salary or compensation of some kind is understood,but this strange man had never consented to receive a penny. What he didhe did for his own pleasure--for the gratification of a passion whichhad become his very life. When the funds allowed him for expenses seemedinsufficient, he at once opened his private purse; and the men whoworked with him never went away without some substantial token of hisliberality. Of course, such a man had many enemies. He did as muchwork--and far better work than any two inspectors of police; and hedidn't receive a sou of salary. Hence, in calling him "spoil-trade," hisrivals were not far from right.
Whenever any one ventured to mention his name favorably in Gevrol'spresence, the jealous inspector could scarcely control himself, andretorted by denouncing an unfortunate mistake which this remarkableman once made. Inclined to obstinacy, like all enthusiastic men, hehad indeed once effected the conviction of an innocent prisoner--a poorlittle tailor, who was accused of killing his wife. This single error (agrievous one no doubt), in a career of some duration, had the effect ofcooling his ardor perceptibly; and subsequently he seldom visited thePrefecture. But yet he remained "the oracle," after the fashion of thosegreat advocates who, tired of practise at the bar, still win greatand glorious triumphs in their consulting rooms, lending to others theweapons they no longer care to wield themselves.
When the authorities were undecided what course to pursue in some greatcase, they invariably said: "Let us go and consult Tirauclair." For thiswas the name by which he was most generally known: a sobriquet derivedfrom a phrase which was always on his lips. He was constantly saying:"_Il faut que cela se tire au clair_: That must be brought tolight." Hence, the not altogether inappropriate appellation of "PereTirauclair," or "Father Bring-to-Light."
Perhaps this sobriquet assisted him in keeping his occupation secretfrom his friends among the general public. At all events they neversuspected them. His disturbed life when he was working up a case, thestrange visitors he received, his frequent and prolonged absences fromhome, were all imputed to a very unreasonable inclination to gallantry.His concierge was deceived as well as his friends, and laughing at hissupposed infatuation, disrespectfully called him an old libertine. Itwas only the officials of the detective force who knew that Tirauclairand Tabaret were one and the same person.
Lecoq was trying to gain hope and courage by reflecting on the career ofthis eccentric man, when the buxom housekeeper reentered the libraryand announced that the physician had left. At the same time she opened adoor and exclaimed: "This is the room; you gentlemen can enter now."
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