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A vulgar tradesman attracted to the Poivriere by some shameful passion would have confessed it long ago." "But, sir, this man is surely not the buffoon, May," replied the young detective. "No, certainly not," responded M. Segmuller; "we must, therefore, decide upon some plan of action." He smiled kindly, and added, in a friendly voice: "It was unnecessary to tell you that, Monsieur Lecoq.
They had only crossed it, just below the Rue de la Croix-Rouge, and had profited by an empty space between two houses to regain the open ground. "Certainly these women were well acquainted with the locality," murmured Lecoq.
"When I examined the lawn," pursued M. Lecoq, "I found the parallel trails of the feet, but yet the grass was crushed over a rather wide space. How was that? Because it was the body, not of a man, but of a woman, which was dragged across the lawn of a woman full-dressed, with heavy petticoats; that, in short, of the countess, and not of the count."
Come, lose no time." M. Lecoq, when he was left alone, listened to the departure of the carriage which took M. Plantat and Laurence away; then he returned to Tremorel's body. "There," said he to himself, "lies a wretch whom I have killed instead of arresting and delivering him up to justice. Have I done my duty? No; but my conscience will not reproach me, because I have acted rightly."
He suddenly interrupted himself. The restaurant door opened ajar, and a man passed his head in and withdrew it immediately. "That's my man," said M. Lecoq, calling the waiter to pay for the dinner, "he is waiting for us in the passage; let us go." A young man dressed like a journeyman upholsterer was standing in the passage looking in at the shop-windows.
M. Lecoq lit an aromatic weed, and remarked: "You two may go to bed if you like; I am condemned, I see, to a sleepless night. But before I go to writing, I wish to ask you a few things, Monsieur Plantat." M. Plantat bowed in token of assent. "We must resume our conversation," continued the detective, "and compare our inferences.
"I will summon the servants," he faltered, and suiting the action to the word, he was raising his hand to the bell-chain, employed to announce the arrival of visitors, when Lecoq hastily stopped him. "A word first!" said he. "Might not the fugitive have passed through the house and escaped by this door, without being seen? In that case he would be far away by this time." "Impossible!" "But why?"
This man, who was a brother of the famous Lecoq of the rue Montorgueil, was the cleverest eating-house-keeper in Avignon; his own unusual corpulence commended his cookery, and, when he stood at the door, constituted an advertisement for his restaurant.
"I think he was following me while I was following the others, and that he 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 flat nose; and he was very unpretending and affable in manner. "It was he!" exclaimed Lecoq. "He! Who?"
"Such money is never refunded." May uttered some incoherent threat, in which such words as "downright robbery" and "justice" could be distinguished, and then abruptly walked back into the street, slamming the door behind him. "Well! did I answer properly?" asked Fritz triumphantly as Lecoq emerged from his hiding-place. "Yes, perfectly," replied the detective.
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