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Updated: June 5, 2025
He got up from the table, put on his overcoat, and took his hat and cane. "Are you going out, sir?" asked Manette. "Yes." "Shall you be late?" "Possibly." "But you will return to-night?" "I do not know." One minute later, M. Tabaret was ringing his friend's bell. Madame Gerdy lived in respectable style.
"And I," said M. Daburon, "I proclaim you the greatest of all detectives, past or future. I shall certainly never hereafter undertake an investigation without your assistance." "You are too kind, sir. I have had little or nothing to do in the matter. The discovery is due to chance alone." "You are modest, M. Tabaret. Chance assists only the clever, and it is that which annoys the stupid.
"Oh, what a wretched woman I am!" she cried, wringing her hands in despair; "it is I who have betrayed you. It occurred on Tuesday, did it not?" "Yes, Tuesday." "Ah, then I have told all, without a doubt, to your friend, the old man I supposed you had sent, Tabaret!" "Has Tabaret been here?" "Yes; just a little while ago."
I only desired up to the present to show you the aberration of my father's reason under the influence of his passion. We shall soon come to the point." M. Tabaret was astonished at the strength of this passion, of which Noel was disturbing the ashes. Perhaps, he felt it all the more keenly on account of those expressions which recalled his own youth.
When you tried to speak to him, as he was leaving the prison, he harshly told you to wait till the next day; and a quarter of an hour later he pretended to fall down and break his leg." "Then you think that M. d'Escorval and May are enemies?" inquired Lecoq. "Don't the facts prove that beyond a doubt?" retorted Tabaret.
On his side M. Daburon promised to keep him advised of the least evidence that transpired, and recall him, if by any chance he should procure the papers of Widow Lerouge. "To you, M. Tabaret," said the magistrate in conclusion, "I shall be always at home. If you have any occasion to speak to me, do not hesitate to come at night as well as during the day.
M. Tabaret, the cabriolet, the swift horse, and the twelve men had all disappeared, or at least were not to be found. On returning home, greatly fatigued, and very much out of temper, the investigating magistrate found the following telegram from the chief of the detective force awaiting him; it was brief, but to the point: "ROUEN, Sunday. "The man is found. This evening we start for Paris.
"Caught!" he cried, while yet on the threshold, "caught, nipped, squeezed, strung, trapped, locked! We have got the man." Old Tabaret, more Tirauclair than ever, gesticulated with such comical vehemence and such remarkable contortions that even the tall clerk smiled, for which, however, he took himself severely to task on going to bed that night.
And, above all, I must obtain the past history of this obliging widow, and I will have it too, for in all probability the particulars which have been written for from her birthplace will arrive tomorrow." Returning to Albert, old Tabaret weighed the charges which were brought against the young man, and reckoned the chances which he still had in favour of his release.
He lived very simply from taste, as well as habit, waited on by an old servant, to whom on great occasions the concierge lent a helping hand. No one in the house had the slightest suspicion of the avocations of the proprietor. Besides, even the humblest agent of police would be expected to possess a degree of acuteness for which no one gave M. Tabaret credit.
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