"We have outwitted Lecoq."
In this he was right.
But he thought himself forever beyond the reach of the wily, keen-witted detective; and in this he was wrong.
Lecoq was not the man to sit down with folded hands and brood over the humiliation of his defeat.
Before he went to Father Tabaret, he was beginning to recover from his stupor and despondency; and when he left that experienced detective"s presence, he had regained his courage, his command over his faculties, and sufficient energy to move the world, if necessary.
"Well, my good man," he remarked to Father Absinthe, who was trotting along by his side, "you have heard what the great Monsieur Tabaret said, did you not? So you see I was right."
But his companion evinced no enthusiasm.
"Yes, you were right," he responded, in woebegone tones.
"Do you think we are ruined by two or three mistakes? Nonsense! I will soon turn our defeat of today into a glorious victory."
"Ah! you might do so perhaps, if--they do not dismiss us from the force."
This doleful remark recalled Lecoq to a realizing sense of the present situation.
They had allowed a prisoner to slip through their fingers. That was vexatious, it is true; but they had captured one of the most notorious of criminals--Joseph Conturier. Surely there was some comfort in that.
But while Lecoq could have borne dismissal, he could not endure the thought that he would not be allowed to follow up this affair of the Poivriere.
What would his superior officers say when he told them that May and the Duc de Sairmeuse were one and the same person?
They would, undoubtedly, shrug their shoulders and turn up their noses.
"Still, Monsieur Segmuller will believe me," he thought. "But will he dare to take any action in the matter without incontrovertible evidence?"
This was very unlikely. Lecoq realized it all too well.
"Could we not make a descent upon the Hotel de Sairmeuse, and, on some pretext or other, compel the duke to show himself, and identify him as the prisoner May?"
He entertained this idea only for an instant, then abruptly dismissed it.
"A stupid expedient!" he exclaimed. "Are two such men as the duke and his accomplice likely to be caught napping? They are prepared for such a visit, and we should only have our labor for our pains."
He made these reflections _sotto voce_; and Father Absinthe"s curiosity was aroused.
"Excuse me," said he, "I did not quite understand you."
"I say that we must find some tangible proof before asking permission to proceed further."
He paused with knitted brows.
In seeking a circ.u.mstance which would establish the complicity between some member of the duke"s household and the witnesses who had been called upon to give their testimony, Lecoq thought of Mme. Milner, the owner of the Hotel de Mariembourg, and his first meeting with her.
He saw her again, standing upon a chair, her face on a level with a cage, covered with a large piece of black silk, persistently repeating three or four German words to a starling, who as persistently retorted: "Camille! Where is Camille?"
"One thing is certain," resumed Lecoq; "if Madame Milner--who is a German and who speaks with the strongest possible German accent--had raised this bird, it would either have spoken German or with the same accent as its mistress. Therefore it cannot have been in her possession long, and who gave it to her?"
Father Absinthe began to grow impatient.
"In sober earnest, what are you talking about?" he asked, petulantly.
"I say that if there is someone at the Hotel de Sairmeuse named Camille, I have the proof I desire. Come, Papa Absinthe, let us hurry on."
And without another word of explanation, he dragged his companion rapidly along.
When they reached the Rue de Crenelle, Lecoq saw a messenger leaning against the door of a wine-shop. Lecoq called him.
"Come, my boy," said he; "I wish you to go to the Hotel de Sairmeuse and ask for Camille. Tell her that her uncle is waiting her here."
"But, sir----"
"What, you have not gone yet?"
The messenger departed; the two policemen entered the wine-shop, and Father Absinthe had scarcely had time to swallow a gla.s.s of brandy when the lad returned.
"Monsieur, I was unable to see Mademoiselle Camille. The house is closed from top to bottom. The d.u.c.h.ess died very suddenly this morning."
"Ah! the wretch!" exclaimed the young policeman.
Then, controlling himself, he mentally added:
"He must have killed his wife on returning home, but his fate is sealed.
Now, I shall be allowed to continue my investigations."
In less than twenty minutes they arrived at the Palais de Justice.
M. Segmuller did not seem to be immoderately surprised at Lecoq"s revelations. Still he listened with evident doubt to the young policeman"s ingenious deductions; it was the circ.u.mstance of the starling that seemed to decide him.
"Perhaps you are right, my dear Lecoq," he said, at last; "and to tell the truth, I quite agree with you. But I can take no further action in the matter until you can furnish proof so convincing in its nature that the Duc de Sairmeuse will be unable to think of denying it."
"Ah! sir, my superior officers will not allow me----"
"On the contrary," interrupted the judge, "they will allow you the fullest liberty after I have spoken to them."
Such action on the part of M. Segmuller required not a little courage.
There had been so much laughter about M. Segmuller"s _grand seigneur_, disguised as a clown, that many men would have sacrificed their convictions to the fear of ridicule.
"And when will you speak to them?" inquired Lecoq, timidly.
"At once."
The judge had already turned toward the door when the young policeman stopped him.