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Updated: May 31, 2025
A bucket of iced water falling upon Lecoq's head could not have astonished him more than did this announcement from the proprietress of the Hotel de Mariembourg. Had the prisoner indeed told the truth? Was it possible? Gevrol and the governor of the prison were right, then, and M. Segmuller and he, Lecoq, were senseless fools, pursuing a fantom.
The smiling clerk looked back through his minutes and then, in his clearest voice, he read these words, taken down as they fell from the Widow Chupin's lips: "I had been upstairs about half an hour, when I heard some one below call out 'Eh! old woman. So I went down," etc., etc. "Are you convinced?" asked M. Segmuller.
M. Segmuller had, moreover, done his utmost to set the culprit's mind at ease, to quiet all possible suspicion of a trap, and his inspection of the prisoner's person led him to believe that this result had been attained. "Now," said he, "you will give me your attention; and do not forget that your liberty depends upon your frankness. What is your name?" "May." "What is your Christian name?"
I'm very far from the perfection I hope to arrive at; though I may venture to say that in three days from now I could call on you and talk with you for half an hour without being recognized." M. Segmuller made no rejoinder; and it was evident to Lecoq that the magistrate had offered this objection rather in the hope of its being overruled, than with the wish to see it prevail.
Lecoq therefore checked himself, and took up his hat preparatory to departure. "Now," said he, "I must ask you, sir, for my liberty; if you have any orders, you will find a trusty messenger in the corridor, Father Absinthe, one of my colleagues. I want to find out something about Lacheneur's letter and the diamond earring." "Go, then," replied M. Segmuller, "and good luck to you!" Good luck!
So it must have been, for Goguet, the clerk, nodded approvingly. "Capital!" he murmured. "I should never have thought of that." While he was talking, M. Segmuller had carefully placed all the so-called "articles of conviction" in a large drawer, from which they would not emerge until the trial. "Now," said he, "I understand the case well enough to examine the Widow Chupin.
I endured tortures for a while in the hope of solving the problem. But all my trouble was wasted. Now the supposition of Gevrol's intervention would explain everything." M. Segmuller had turned pale with anger. "Ah! if I could really believe that!" he exclaimed; "if I were sure of it! Have you any proofs?" The young man shook his head.
If he had said: "The women were fair," M. Segmuller would not have known what to believe, but in the magistrate's opinion the audacious falsehood he had just heard proved that there was a perfect understanding between the supposed murderer and Widow Chupin. Certainly, M. Segmuller's satisfaction was great; but his face did not betray it.
"Take this to M. Segmuller at once; it is a matter of importance," said he. The policeman attempted to question this "loafer" who was in correspondence with the magistrates; but Lecoq had already darted off on the prisoner's trail. May had covered but a short distance. He was sauntering along with his hands in his pockets; his head high in the air, his manner composed and full of assurance.
"Ah," thought he, "such a fellow as D'Escorval would never have shown me such confidence as M. Segmuller."
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