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Updated: May 1, 2025
The woman noticed this at once, for she drew back, and cast a suspicious glance at the pretended foreigner. "I know what I am saying," she said, indignantly. "And now this is enough, isn't it?" Knowing that he had betrayed himself, and thoroughly ashamed of his lack of coolness, Lecoq renounced his English accent altogether. "Excuse me," he said, "if I ask one more question.
Near them, on the quay, was a large pile of timber, behind which Father Absinthe immediately concealed himself, while Lecoq, seizing a spade that was lying idle, hurried to a little distance and began digging in the sand. They did well to make haste. The van came onward and turned the corner.
It was made for me, of course; but it wasn't necessary for me to put my foot into it." "You are mistaken, my man," said Lecoq. "The individual in question didn't belong to the police force. I pledge you my word of honor, he didn't." For a moment Couturier surveyed Lecoq with a knowing air, as if he hoped to discover whether he were speaking the truth or attempting to deceive him.
When he was placed in a cell, bang! He fell down like a log of wood. As soon as he recovered, we let him out. I'm sure, they didn't talk to each other." The young police agent had grown very thoughtful. "I was evidently right," he murmured. "What did you say?" inquired the keeper. "Nothing," replied Lecoq, who was not inclined to communicate his reflections to the custodian of the guard-house.
He stopped, much surprised, then he went in, and he saw Victor Lecoq seated at the table, with a plate filled with potatoes before him, taking his supper in the very same place where his son had sat. And, all of a sudden, he turned round, as if he wanted to go away. The night was very dark now. Céleste started up, and shouted at him: "Come quick, daddy!
You got here this morning without information, without details, and by the mere scrutiny of the scene of the crime, by the sole force of reasoning, have found the criminal: more, you have proved to us that the criminal could be no other than he whom you have named." M. Lecoq bowed modestly. These praises evidently pleased him greatly. "Still," he answered, "I am not yet quite satisfied.
He says this but always, in the heart, more potent than reason, than will, than experience, a ray of hope remains, and he says to himself, 'who knows perhaps! He awaits, what a miracle? There are none, nowadays. No matter, he hopes on." M. Lecoq stopped, as if his emotion prevented his going on.
The old justice of the peace went on, now calmly and with dignity, in a somewhat haughty tone: "You didn't need tricks or subterfuge, Monsieur Lecoq, to induce me to tell what I know. I have evinced enough esteem and confidence in you to deprive you of the right to arm yourself against me with the sad secret which you have surprised." M. Lecoq, despite his cool-headedness, was disconcerted.
"But now?" asked M. Plantat. M. Lecoq, at this question, seemed like a man just roused from sleep. "I beg your pardon," said he. "I forgot myself. I've a bad habit of reflecting aloud. That's why I almost always insist on working alone.
"We were informed of this by Renard, who started from Gex at full speed, and transmitted the news to l'Hirondelle, who is at present stationed at Chalon-sur-Saone. He transmitted it to me, Lecoq, at Auxerre, and I have done a hundred and fifty miles to transmit it in turn to you. As for the secondary details, here they are.
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