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Updated: June 23, 2025
Lecoq made no audible rejoinder; but he smiled to himself and thought: "We will see about that." No consultation held at the bedside of a dying man ever took place in the presence of two physicians so utterly unlike each other as those who accompanied the commissary of police to the Poivriere.
The examination of the Widow Chupin had been conducted with the greatest possible care by M. Segmuller, who was as skilful in managing his questions as a tried general in maneuvering his troops. However, all that he had discovered was that the landlady of the Poivriere was conniving with the murderer. The motive of her connivance was yet unknown, and the murderer's identity still a mystery.
For Gevrol, whose opinion in such matters might be regarded as an authority, had taken care to reassure him when he went to arouse him from his slumbers. "It was only a fight between some old offenders; former jail birds, habitues of the Poivriere," he had said, adding sententiously: "If all these ruffians would kill one another, we might have some little peace."
Hence, the police veteran was now much more strongly convinced than his companion that the usually clever Gevrol had been mistaken, and accordingly he laughed the inspector to scorn. On hearing Lecoq affirm that women had taken part in the horrible scene at the Poivriere, his joy was extreme "A fine affair!" he exclaimed; "an excellent case!"
So, when Lecoq, after his skilful investigations at the Poivriere, rushed to the Place d'Italie, panting with hope and ambition, he found himself outwitted by these men, who were inferior to him in penetration, but whose finesse was superior to his own.
However, the opportunity for which he had so ardently longed, for which he had been waiting during many weary months, had come, he thought, at last, as he reached the Poivriere with Gevrol and the other police agents. While he was clinging to the window shutters he saw by the light of his ambition a pathway to success.
That night the vagabonds, who had taken refuge in the neighborhood of the Poivriere, had a very bad time of it; for while those who managed to sleep were disturbed by frightful dreams of a police raid, those who remained awake witnessed some strange incidents, well calculated to fill their minds with terror.
Indeed, had the tragedy at the Poivriere occurred in the times of Charlemagne, it could not have passed more thoroughly out of people's minds. It was remembered only in three places, at the Depot, at the Prefecture de Police, and at the Palais de Justice. M. Segmuller's repeated efforts had proved as unsuccessful as Lecoq's.
"Did you hear that, General?" asked one of the detectives, in a low voice. "Yes, there is murder going on not far from here but where? Silence! let us listen." They all stood motionless, holding their breath, and anxiously listening. Soon a second cry, or rather a wild howl, resounded. "Ah!" exclaimed the inspector, "it is at the Poivriere."
It is absolutely necessary for us to find the Widow Chupin's daughter-in-law; and I hope we shall be able to obtain her address from the police commissary of the district where the Poivriere is situated." "Very well, we will go wherever you wish; I am at your orders." A few moments later they were on their way.
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