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While doing his best to keep pace with his companion, who was in such haste to get back to the Poivriere that he almost ran, Father Absinthe's thoughts were as busy as his legs, and an entirely new train of ideas was awakened in his mind.
If he were restless and anxious as he walked along the Quai des Orfevres, it was because he could not explain Father Absinthe's prolonged absence, and because he feared that Gevrol, mad with jealousy, might attempt, in some underhand way, to frustrate his, Lecoq's, efforts to arrive at a solution of the mystery. At the Morgue the young detective met with no better success than at the Prefecture.
Obstinate men of Father Absinthe's stamp, who are at first always inclined to differ from other people's opinions, are the very individuals who end in madly adopting them. When an idea has at last penetrated their empty brains, they twist and turn it, dwell upon it, and develop it until it exceeds the bounds of reason.
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.
If he dealt only with the more important matters, must he not at once ascertain the result of Father Absinthe's search after the man who had recognized one of the victims at the Morgue; test the prisoner's assertions regarding the box of clothes left at one of the hotels surrounding the Northern Railway Station; and last, but not the least, must he not procure the address of Polyte Chupin's wife, in order to serve her with the summons to appear before M. Segmuller?
They had started off running, as was proved by the length of the steps and the shape of the footprints. The difference in the tracks left by the two fugitives was so remarkable that 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 her leg!" He was right.
The time seemed long, and, growing impatient, he paced to and fro the length of this log of wood occasionally pausing to listen. On hearing Lecoq's recital, all the conflicting sentiments that are awakened in a child's mind by a fairy tale doubt, faith, anxiety, and hope filled Father Absinthe's heart. What should he believe? what should he refuse to believe? He did not know.
Under other circumstances Lecoq would have hesitated to place dependence on a vague similarity in personal appearance; but here probabilities were so strongly in favor of Father Absinthe's assertion that the young detective at once admitted its truth. Was not this meeting the logical sequence of May and Madame Milner's chance interview a few hours before?
"Joseph Couturier! an escaped convict!" The superintendent certainly did not understand Lecoq's agitation any better than Father Absinthe's discomfited air. "You have reason to be proud of your work; your success will make a sensation this morning," he repeated. "You have captured a famous prize. I can see Gevrol's nose now when he hears the news.
Then I must 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 you returned." To Father Absinthe's great surprise, Lecoq seemed rather thoughtful than angry. "What do you think about this chance acquaintance of yours, papa?" asked the young detective.
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