XXIII

  M. Plantat, in speaking of M. Domini's impatience, did not exaggeratethe truth. That personage was furious; he could not comprehend thereason of the prolonged absence of his three fellow-workers of theprevious evening. He had installed himself early in the morning in hiscabinet, at the court-house, enveloped in his judicial robe; and hecounted the minutes as they passed. His reflections during the night,far from shaking, had only confirmed his opinion. As he receded from theperiod of the crime, he found it very simple and natural--indeed, theeasiest thing in the world to account for. He was annoyed that the restdid not share his convictions, and he awaited their report in a state ofirritation which his clerk only too well perceived. He had eaten hisbreakfast in his cabinet, so as to be sure and be beforehand with M.Lecoq. It was a useless precaution; for the hours passed on and no onearrived.

  To kill time, he sent for Guespin and Bertaud and questioned them anew,but learned nothing more than he had extracted from them the nightbefore. One of the prisoners swore by all things sacred that he knewnothing except what he had already told; the other preserved anobstinate and ferocious silence, confining himself to the remark: "Iknow that I am lost; do with me what you please."

  M. Domini was just going to send a mounted gendarme to Orcival to findout the cause of the delay, when those whom he awaited were announced.He quickly gave the order to admit them, and so keen was his curiosity,despite what he called his dignity, that he got up and went forward tomeet them.

  "How late you are!" said he.

  "And yet we haven't lost a minute," replied M. Plantat. "We haven't evenbeen in bed."

  "There is news, then? Has the count's body been found?"

  "There is much news, Monsieur," said M. Lecoq. "But the count's body hasnot been found, and I dare even say that it will not be found--for thevery simple fact that he has not been killed. The reason is that he wasnot one of the victims, as at first supposed, but the assassin."

  At this distinct declaration on M. Lecoq's part, the judge started inhis seat.

  "Why, this is folly!" cried he.

  M. Lecoq never smiled in a magistrate's presence. "I do not think so,"said he, coolly; "I am persuaded that if Monsieur Domini will grant mehis attention for half an hour I will have the honor of persuading himto share my opinion."

  M. Domini's slight shrug of the shoulders did not escape the detective,but he calmly continued:

  "More; I am sure that Monsieur Domini will not permit me to leave hiscabinet without a warrant to arrest Count Hector de Tremorel, whom atpresent he thinks to be dead."

  "Possibly," said M. Domini. "Proceed."

  M. Lecoq then rapidly detailed the facts gathered by himself and M.Plantat from the beginning of the inquest. He narrated them not as if hehad guessed or been told of them, but in their order of time and in sucha manner that each new incident which, he mentioned followed naturallyfrom the preceding one. He had completely resumed his character of aretired haberdasher, with a little piping voice, and such obsequiousexpressions as, "I have the honor," and "If Monsieur the Judge willdeign to permit me;" he resorted to the candy-box with the portrait,and, as the night before at Valfeuillu, chewed a lozenge when he came tothe more striking points. M. Domini's surprise increased every minute ashe proceeded; while at times, exclamations of astonishment passed hislips: "Is it possible?" "That is hard to believe!"

  M. Lecoq finished his recital; he tranquilly munched a lozenge, andadded:

  "What does Monsieur the Judge of Instruction think now?"

  M. Domini was fain to confess that he was almost satisfied. A man,however, never permits an opinion deliberately and carefully formed tobe refuted by one whom he looks on as an inferior, without a secretchagrin. But in this case the evidence was too abundant, and toopositive to be resisted.

  "I am convinced," said he, "that a crime was committed on MonsieurSauvresy with the dearly paid assistance of this Robelot. To-morrow Ishall give instructions to Doctor Gendron to proceed at once to anexhumation and autopsy of the late master of Valfeuillu."

  "And you may be sure that I shall find the poison," chimed in thedoctor.

  "Very well," resumed M. Domini. "But does it necessarily follow thatbecause Monsieur Tremorel poisoned his friend to marry his widow, heyesterday killed his wife and then fled? I don't think so."

  "Pardon me," objected Lecoq, gently. "It seems to me that MademoiselleCourtois's supposed suicide proves at least something."

  "That needs clearing up. This coincidence can only be a matter of purechance."

  "But I am sure that Monsieur Tremorel shaved himself--of that we haveproof; then, we did not find the boots which, according to the valet, heput on the morning of the murder."

  "Softly, softly," interrupted the judge. "I don't pretend that you areabsolutely wrong; it must be as you say; only I give you my objections.Let us admit that Tremorel killed his wife, that he fled and is alive.Does that clear Guespin, and show that he took no part in the murder?"

  This was evidently the flaw in Lecoq's case; but being convinced ofHector's guilt, he had given little heed to the poor gardener, thinkingthat his innocence would appear of itself when the real criminal wasarrested. He was about to reply, when footsteps and voices were heard inthe corridor.

  "Stop," said M. Domini. "Doubtless we shall now hear something importantabout Guespin."

  "Are you expecting some new witness?" asked M. Plantat.

  "No; I expect one of the Corbeil police to whom I have given animportant mission."

  "Regarding Guespin?"

  "Yes. Very early this morning a young working-woman of the town, whomGuespin has been courting, brought me an excellent photograph of him. Igave this portrait to the agent with instructions to go to the Vulcan'sForges and ascertain if Guespin had been seen there, and whether hebought anything there night before last."

  M. Lecoq was inclined to be jealous; the judge's proceeding ruffled him,and he could not conceal an expressive grimace.

  "I am truly grieved," said he, dryly, "that Monsieur the Judge has solittle confidence in me that he thinks it necessary to give meassistance."

  This sensitiveness aroused M. Domini, who replied:

  "Eh! my dear man, you can't be everywhere at once. I think you veryshrewd, but you were not here, and I was in a hurry."

  "A false step is often irreparable."

  "Make yourself easy; I've sent an intelligent man." At this moment thedoor opened, and the policeman referred to by the judge appeared on thethreshold. He was a muscular man about forty years old, with a militarypose, a heavy mustache, and thick brows, meeting over the nose. He had asly rather than a shrewd expression, so that his appearance alone seemedto awake all sorts of suspicions and put one instinctively on his guard.

  "Good news!" said he in a big voice: "I didn't make the journey to Parisfor the King of Prussia; we are right on the track of this rogue of aGuespin."

  M. Domini encouraged him with an approving gesture.

  "See here, Goulard," said he, "let us go on in order if we can. You wentthen, according to my instructions, to the Vulcan's Forges?"

  "At once, Monsieur."

  "Precisely. Had they seen the prisoner there?"

  "Yes; on the evening of Wednesday, July 8th."

  "At what hour?"

  "About ten o'clock, a few minutes before they shut up; so that he wasremarked, and the more distinctly observed."

  The judge moved his lips as if to make an objection, but was stopped bya gesture from M. Lecoq.

  "And who recognized the photograph?"

  "Three of the clerks. Guespin's manner first attracted their attention.It was strange, so they said, and they thought he was drunk, or at leasttipsy. Then their recollection was fixed by his talking very fast,saying that he was going to patronize them a great deal, and that ifthey would make a reduction in their prices he would procure for themthe custom of an establishment whose confidence he possessed, the GentilJardinier, which bought a great many gardening tools."

  M. D
omini interrupted the examination to consult some papers which laybefore him on his desk. It was, he found, the Gentil Jardinier which hadprocured Guespin his place in Tremorel's household. The judge remarkedthis aloud, and added:

  "The question of identity seems to be settled. Guespin was undoubtedlyat the Vulcan's Forges on Wednesday night."

  "So much the better for him," M. Lecoq could not help muttering.

  The judge heard him, but though the remark seemed singular to him he didnot notice it, and went on questioning the agent.

  "Well, did they tell you what Guespin went there to obtain?"

  "The clerks recollected it perfectly. He first bought a hammer, a coldchisel, and a file."

  "I knew it," exclaimed the judge. "And then?"

  "Then--"

  Here the man, ambitious to make a sensation among his hearers, rolledhis eyes tragically, and in a dramatic tone, added:

  "Then he bought a dirk knife!"

  The judge felt that he was triumphing over M. Lecoq.

  "Well," said he to the detective in his most ironical tone, "what do youthink of your friend now? What do you say to this honest and worthyyoung man, who, on the very night of the crime, leaves a wedding wherehe would have had a good time, to go and buy a hammer, a chisel, and adirk--everything, in short, used in the murder and the mutilation of thebody?"

  Dr. Gendron seemed a little disconcerted at this, but a sly smileoverspread M. Plantat's face. As for M. Lecoq, he had the air of one whois shocked by objections which he knows he ought to annihilate by aword, and yet who is fain to be resigned to waste time in useless talk,which he might put to great profit.

  "I think, Monsieur," said he, very humbly, "that the murderers atValfeuillu did not use either a hammer or a chisel, or a file, and thatthey brought no instrument at all from outside--since they used ahammer."

  "And didn't they have a dirk besides?" asked the judge in a banteringtone, confident that he was on the right path.

  "That is another question, I confess; but it is a difficult one toanswer."

  He began to lose patience. He turned toward the Corbeil policeman, andabruptly asked him:

  "Is this all you know?"

  The big man with the thick eyebrows superciliously eyed this littleParisian who dared to question him thus. He hesitated so long that M.Lecoq, more rudely than before, repeated his question.

  "Yes, that's all," said Goulard at last, "and I think it's sufficient;the judge thinks so too; and he is the only person who gives me orders,and whose approbation I wish for."

  M. Lecoq shrugged his shoulders, and proceeded:

  "Let's see; did you ask what was the shape of the dirk bought byGuespin? Was it long or short, wide or narrow?"

  "Faith, no. What was the use?"

  "Simply, my brave fellow, to compare this weapon with the victim'swounds, and to see whether its handle corresponds to that which left adistinct and visible imprint between the victim's shoulders."

  "I forgot it; but it is easily remedied."

  "An oversight may, of course, be pardoned; but you can at least tell usin what sort of money Guespin paid for his purchases?"

  The poor man seemed so embarrassed, humiliated, and vexed, that thejudge hastened to his assistance.

  "The money is of little consequence, it seems to me," said he.

  "I beg you to excuse me I don't agree with you," returned M. Lecoq."This matter may be a very grave one. What is the most serious evidenceagainst Guespin? The money found in his pocket. Let us suppose for amoment that night before last, at ten o'clock, he changed aone-thousand-franc note in Paris. Could the obtaining of that note havebeen the motive of the crime at Valfeuillu? No, for up to that hour thecrime had not been committed. Where could it have come from? That is noconcern of mine, at present. But if my theory is correct, justice willbe forced to agree that the several hundred francs found in Guespin'spossession can and must be the change for the note."

  "That is only a theory," urged M. Domini in an irritated tone.

  "That is true; but one which may turn out a certainty. It remains for meto ask this man how Guespin carried away the articles which he bought?Did he simply slip them into his pocket, or did he have them done up ina bundle, and if so, how?"

  The detective spoke in a sharp, hard, freezing tone, with a bitterraillery in it, frightening his Corbeil colleague out of his assurance.

  "I don't know," stammered the latter. "They didn't tell me--I thought--"

  M. Lecoq raised his hands as if to call the heavens to witness: in hisheart, he was charmed with this fine occasion to revenge himself for M.Domini's disdain. He could not, dared not say anything to the judge; buthe had the right to banter the agent and visit his wrath upon him.

  "Ah so, my lad," said he, "what did you go to Paris for? To showGuespin's picture and detail the crime to the people at Vulcan's Forges?They ought to be very grateful to you; but Madame Petit, MonsieurPlantat's housekeeper, would have done as much."

  At this stroke the man began to get angry; he frowned, and in hisbluffest tone, began:

  "Look here now, you--"

  "Ta, ta, ta," interrupted M. Lecoq. "Let me alone, and know who istalking to you. I am Monsieur Lecoq."

  The effect of the famous detective's name on his antagonist was magical.He naturally laid down his arms and surrendered, straightway becomingrespectful and obsequious. It almost flattered him to be roughly handledby such a celebrity. He muttered, in an abashed and admiring tone:

  "What, is it possible? You, Monsieur Lecoq!"

  "Yes, it is I, young man; but console yourself; I bear no grudge againstyou. You don't know your trade, but you have done me a service and youhave brought us a convincing proof of Guespin's innocence."

  M. Domini looked on at this scene with secret chagrin. His recruit wentover to the enemy, yielding without a struggle to a confessedsuperiority. M. Lecoq's presumption, in speaking of a prisoner'sinnocence whose guilt seemed to the judge indisputable, exasperated him.

  "And what is this tremendous proof, if you please?" asked he.

  "It is simple and striking," answered M. Lecoq, putting on his mostfrivolous air as his conclusions narrowed the field of probabilities.

  "You doubtless recollect that when we were at Valfeuillu we found thehands of the clock in the bedroom stopped at twenty minutes past three.Distrusting foul play, I put the striking apparatus in motion--do yourecall it? What happened? The clock struck eleven. That convinced usthat the crime was committed before that hour. But don't you see that ifGuespin was at the Vulcan's Forges at ten he could not have got back toValfeuillu before midnight? Therefore it was not--he who did the deed."

  The detective, as he came to this conclusion, pulled out the inevitablebox and helped himself to a lozenge, at the same time bestowing upon thejudge a smile which said:

  "Get out of that, if you can."

  The judge's whole theory tumbled to pieces if M. Lecoq's deductions wereright; but he could not admit that he had been so much deceived; hecould not renounce an opinion formed by deliberate reflection.

  "I don't pretend that Guespin is the only criminal," said he. "He couldonly have been an accomplice; and that he was."

  "An accomplice? No, Judge, he was a victim. Ah, Tremorel is a greatrascal! Don't you see now why he put forward the hands? At first Ididn't perceive the object of advancing the time five hours; now it isclear. In order to implicate Guespin the crime must appear to have beencommitted after midnight, and--"

  He suddenly checked himself and stopped with open mouth and fixed eyesas a new idea crossed his mind. The judge, who was bending over hispapers trying to find something to sustain his position, did notperceive this.

  "But then," said the latter, "how do you explain Guespin's refusal tospeak and to give an account of where he spent the night?"

  M. Lecoq had now recovered from his emotion, and Dr. Gendron and M.Plantat, who were watching him with the deepest attention, saw atriumphant light in his eyes. Doubtless he had just found a solution ofthe pro
blem which had been put to him.

  "I understand," replied he, "and can explain Guespin's obstinatesilence. I should be perfectly amazed if he decided to speak just now."

  M. Domini misconstrued the meaning of this; he thought he saw in it acovert intention to banter him.

  "He has had a night to reflect upon it," he answered. "Is not twelvehours enough to mature a system of defence?"

  The detective shook his head doubtfully.

  "It is certain that he does not need it," said he. "Our prisoner doesn'ttrouble himself about a system of defence, that I'll swear to."

  "He keeps quiet, because he hasn't been able to get up a plausiblestory."

  "No, no; believe me, he isn't trying to get up one. In my opinion,Guespin is a victim; that is, I suspect Tremorel of having set aninfamous trap for him, into which he has fallen, and in which he seeshimself so completely caught that he thinks it useless to struggle. Thepoor wretch is convinced that the more he resists the more surely hewill tighten the web that is woven around him."

  "I think so, too," said M. Plantat.

  "The true criminal, Count Hector," resumed the detective, "lost hispresence of mind at the last moment, and thus lost all the advantageswhich his previous caution had gained. Don't let us forget that he is anable man, perfidious enough to mature the most infamous stratagems, andunscrupulous enough to execute them. He knows that justice must have itsvictims, one for every crime; he does not forget that the police, aslong as it has not the criminal, is always on the search with eye andear open; and he has thrown us Guespin as a huntsman, closely pressed,throws his glove to the bear that is close upon him. Perhaps he thoughtthat the innocent man would not be in danger of his life; at all eventshe hoped to gain time by this ruse; while the bear is smelling andturning over the glove, the huntsman gains ground, escapes and reacheshis place of refuge; that was what Tremorel proposed to do."

  The Corbeil policeman was now undoubtedly Lecoq's most enthusiasticlistener. Goulard literally drank in his chief's words. He had neverheard any of his colleagues express themselves with such fervor andauthority; he had had no idea of such eloquence, and he stood erect, asif some of the admiration which he saw in all the faces were reflectedback on him. He grew in his own esteem as he thought that he was asoldier in an army commanded by such generals. He had no longer anyopinion excepting that of his superior. It was not so easy to persuade,subjugate, and convince the judge.

  "But," objected the latter, "you saw Guespin's countenance?"

  "Ah, what matters the countenance--what does that prove? Don't we knowif you and I were arrested to-morrow on a terrible charge, what ourbearing would be?"

  M. Domini gave a significant start; this hypothesis scarcely pleasedhim.

  "And yet you and I are familiar with the machinery of justice. When Iarrested Lanscot, the poor servant in the Rue Marignan, his first wordswere: 'Come on, my account is good.' The morning that Papa Tabaret and Itook the Viscount de Commarin as he was getting out of bed, on theaccusation of having murdered the widow Lerouge, he cried: 'I am lost.'Yet neither of them were guilty; but both of them, the viscount and thevalet, equal before the terror of a possible mistake of justice, andrunning over in their thoughts the charges which would be broughtagainst them, had a moment of overwhelming discouragement."

  "But such discouragement does not last two days," said M. Domini.

  M. Lecoq did not answer this; he went on, growing more animated as heproceeded.

  "You and I have seen enough prisoners to know how deceitful appearancesare, and how little they are to be trusted. It would be foolish to basea theory upon a prisoner's bearing. He who talked about 'the cry ofinnocence' was an idiot, just as the man was who prated about the 'palestupor' of guilt. Neither crime nor virtue have, unhappily, any especialcountenance. The Simon girl, who was accused of having killed herfather, absolutely refused to answer any questions for twenty-two days;on the twenty-third, the murderer was caught. As to the Sylvainaffair--"

  M. Domini rapped lightly on his desk to check the detective. As a man,the judge held too obstinately to his opinions; as a magistrate he wasequally obstinate, but was at the same time ready to make any sacrificeof his self-esteem if the voice of duty prompted it. M. Lecoq'sarguments had not shaken his convictions, but they imposed on him theduty of informing himself at once, and to either conquer the detectiveor avow himself conquered.

  "You seem to be pleading," said he to M. Lecoq. "There is no need ofthat here. We are not counsel and judge; the same honorable intentionsanimate us both. Each, in his sphere, is searching after the truth. Youthink you see it shining where I only discern clouds; and you may bemistaken as well as I."

  Then by an act of heroism, he condescended to add:

  "What do you think I ought to do?"

  The judge was at least rewarded for the effort he made by approvingglances from M. Plantat and the doctor. But M. Lecoq did not hasten torespond; he had many weighty reasons to advance; that, he saw, was notwhat was necessary. He ought to present the facts, there and at once,and produce one of those proofs which can be touched with the finger.How should he do it? His active mind searched eagerly for such a proof.

  "Well?" insisted M. Domini.

  "Ah," cried the detective. "Why can't I ask Guespin two or threequestions?"

  The judge frowned; the suggestion seemed to him rather presumptuous. Itis formally laid down that the questioning of the accused should be donein secret, and by the judge alone, aided by his clerk. On the other handit is decided, that after he has once been interrogated he may beconfronted with witnesses. There are, besides, exceptions in favor ofthe members of the police force. M. Domini reflected whether there wereany precedents to apply to the case.

  "I don't know," he answered at last, "to what point the law permits meto consent to what you ask. However, as I am convinced the interests oftruth outweigh all rules, I shall take it on myself to let you questionGuespin."

  He rang; a bailiff appeared.

  "Has Guespin been carried back to prison?"

  "Not yet, Monsieur."

  "So much the better; have him brought in here."

  M. Lecoq was beside himself with joy; he had not hoped to achieve such avictory over one so determined as M. Domini.

  "He will speak now," said he, so full of confidence that his eyes shone,and he forgot the portrait of the dear defunct, "for I have three meansof unloosening his tongue, one of which is sure to succeed. But beforehe comes I should like to know one thing. Do you know whether Tremorelsaw Jenny after Sauvresy's death?"

  "Jenny?" asked M. Plantat, a little surprised.

  "Yes."

  "Certainly he did."

  "Several times?"

  "Pretty often. After the scene at the Belle Image the poor girl plungedinto terrible dissipation. Whether she was smitten with remorse, orunderstood that it was her conduct which had killed Sauvresy, orsuspected the crime, I don't know. She began, however, to drinkfuriously, falling lower and lower every week--"

  "And the count really consented to see her again?"

  "He was forced to do so; she tormented him, and he was afraid of her.When she had spent all her money she sent to him for more, and he gaveit. Once he refused; and that very evening she went to him the worse forwine, and he had the greatest difficulty in the world to send her awayagain. In short, she knew what his relations with Madame Sauvresy hadbeen, and she threatened him; it was a regular black-mailing operation.He told me all about the trouble she gave him, and added that he wouldnot be able to get rid of her without shutting her up, which he couldnot bring himself to do."

  "How long ago was their last interview?"

  "Why," answered the doctor, "not three weeks ago, when I had aconsultation at Melun, I saw the count and this demoiselle at a hotelwindow; when he saw me he suddenly drew back."

  "Then," said the detective, "there is no longer any doubt--"

  He stopped. Guespin came in between two gendarmes.

  The unhappy gardener had aged twenty years
in twenty-four hours. Hiseyes were haggard, his dry lips were bordered with foam.

  "Let us see," said the judge. "Have you changed your mind aboutspeaking?"

  The prisoner did not answer.

  "Have you decided to tell us about yourself?"

  Guespin's rage made him tremble from head to foot, and his eyes becamefiery.

  "Speak!" said he hoarsely. "Why should I?"

  He added with the gesture of a desperate man who abandons himself,renounces all struggling and all hope:

  "What have I done to you, my God, that you torture me this way? What doyou want me to say? That I did this crime--is that what you want? Well,then--yes--it was I. Now you are satisfied. Now cut my head off, and doit quick--for I don't want to suffer any longer."

  A mournful silence welcomed Guespin's declaration. What, he confessedit!

  M. Domini had at least the good taste not to exult; he kept still, andyet this avowal surprised him beyond all expression.

  M. Lecoq alone, although surprised, was not absolutely put out ofcountenance. He approached Guespin and tapping him on the shoulder, saidin a paternal tone:

  "Come, comrade, what you are telling us is absurd. Do you think thejudge has any secret grudge against you? No, eh? Do you suppose I aminterested to have you guillotined? Not at all. A crime has beencommitted, and we are trying to find the assassin. If you are innocent,help us to find the man who isn't: What were you doing from Wednesdayevening till Thursday morning?"

  But Guespin persisted in his ferocious and stupid obstinacy.

  "I've said what I have to say," said he.

  M. Lecoq changed his tone to one of severity, stepping back to watch theeffect he was about to produce upon Guespin.

  "You haven't any right to hold your tongue. And even if you do, youfool, the police know everything. Your master sent you on an errand,didn't he, on Wednesday night; what did he give you? Aone-thousand-franc note?"

  The prisoner looked at M. Lecoq in speechless amazement.

  "No," he stammered. "It was a five-hundred-franc note."

  The detective, like all great artists in a critical scene, was reallymoved. His surprising genius for investigation had just inspired himwith a bold stroke, which, if it succeeded, would assure him thevictory.

  "Now," said he, "tell me the woman's name."

  "I don't know."

  "You are only a fool then. She is short, isn't she, quite pretty, brownand pale, with very large eyes?"

  "You know her, then?" said Guespin, in a voice trembling with emotion.

  "Yes, comrade, and if you want to know her name, to put in your prayers,she is called--Jenny."

  Men who are really able in some specialty, whatever it may be, neveruselessly abuse their superiority; their satisfaction at seeing itrecognized is sufficient reward. M. Lecoq softly enjoyed his triumph,while his hearers wondered at his perspicacity. A rapid chain ofreasoning had shown him not only Tremorel's thoughts, but also the meanshe had employed to accomplish his purpose.

  Guespin's astonishment soon changed to anger. He asked himself how thisman could have been informed of things which he had every reason tobelieve were secret. Lecoq continued:

  "Since I have told you the woman's name, tell me now, how and why thecount gave you a five-hundred-franc note."

  "It was just as I was going out. The count had no change, and did notwant to send me to Orcival for it. I was to bring back the rest."

  "And why didn't you rejoin your companions at the wedding in theBatignolles?"

  No answer.

  "What was the errand which you were to do for the count?"

  Guespin hesitated. His eyes wandered from one to another of thosepresent, and he seemed to discover an ironical expression on all thefaces. It occurred to him that they were making sport of him, and hadset a snare into which he had fallen. A great despair took possession ofhim.

  "Ah," cried he, addressing M. Lecoq, "you have deceived me. You havebeen lying so as to find out the truth. I have been such a fool as toanswer you, and you are going to turn it all against me."

  "What? Are you going to talk nonsense again?"

  "No, but I see just how it is, and you won't catch me again! Now I'drather die than say a word."

  The detective tried to reassure him; but he added:

  "Besides, I'm as sly as you; I've told you nothing but lies."

  This sudden whim surprised no one. Some prisoners intrench themselvesbehind a system of defence, and nothing can divert them from it; othersvary with each new question, denying what they have just affirmed, andconstantly inventing some new absurdity which anon they reject again. M.Lecoq tried in vain to draw Guespin from his silence; M. Domini made thesame attempt, and also failed; to all questions he only answered, "Idon't know."

  At last the detective waxed impatient.

  "See here," said he to Guespin, "I took you for a young man of sense,and you are only an ass. Do you imagine that we don't know anything?Listen: On the night of Madame Denis's wedding, you were getting readyto go off with your comrades, and had just borrowed twenty francs fromthe valet, when the count called you. He made you promise absolutesecrecy (a promise which, to do you justice, you kept); he told you toleave the other servants at the station and go to Vulcan's Forges, whereyou were to buy for him a hammer, a file, a chisel, and a dirk; theseyou were to carry to a certain woman. Then he gave you this famousfive-hundred-franc note, telling you to bring him back the change whenyou returned next day. Isn't that so?"

  An affirmative response glistened in the prisoner's eyes; still, heanswered, "I don't recollect it."

  "Now," pursued M. Lecoq, "I'm going to tell you what happenedafterwards. You drank something and got tipsy, and in short spent a partof the change of the note. That explains your fright when you wereseized yesterday morning, before anybody said a word to you. You thoughtyou were being arrested for spending that money. Then, when you learnedthat the count had been murdered during the night, recollecting that onthe evening before you had bought all kinds of instruments of theft andmurder, and that you didn't know either the address or the name of thewoman to whom you gave up the package, convinced that if you explainedthe source of the money found in your pocket, you would not bebelieved--then, instead of thinking of the means to prove yourinnocence, you became afraid, and thought you would save yourself byholding your tongue."

  The prisoner's countenance visibly changed; his nerves relaxed; histight lips fell apart; his mind opened itself to hope. But he stillresisted.

  "Do with me as you like," said he.

  "Eh! What should we do with such a fool as you?" cried M. Lecoq angrily."I begin to think you are a rascal too. A decent fellow would see thatwe wanted to get him out of a scrape, and he'd tell us the truth. Youare prolonging your imprisonment by your own will. You'd better learnthat the greatest shrewdness consists in telling the truth. A last time,will you answer?"

  Guespin shook his head; no.

  "Go back to prison, then; since it pleases you," concluded thedetective. He looked at the judge for his approval, and added:

  "Gendarmes, remove the prisoner."

  The judge's last doubt was dissipated like the mist before the sun. Hewas, to tell the truth, a little uneasy at having treated the detectiveso rudely; and he tried to repair it as much as he could.

  "You are an able man, Monsieur Lecoq," said he. "Without speaking ofyour clearsightedness, which is so prompt as to seem almost like secondsight, your examination just now was a master-piece of its kind. Receivemy congratulations, to say nothing of the reward which I propose torecommend in your favor to your chiefs."

  The detective at these compliments cast down his eyes with the abashedair of a virgin. He looked tenderly at the dear defunct's portrait, anddoubtless said to it:

  "At last, darling, we have defeated him--this austere judge who soheartily detests the force of which we are the brightest ornament, makeshis apologies; he recognizes and applauds our services."

  He answered aloud:

  "I can o
nly accept half of your eulogies, Monsieur; permit me to offerthe other half to my friend Monsieur Plantat."

  M. Plantat tried to protest.

  "Oh," said he, "only for some bits of information! You would haveferreted out the truth without me all the same."

  The judge arose and graciously, but not without effort, extended hishand to M. Lecoq, who respectfully pressed it.

  "You have spared me," said the judge, "a great remorse. Guespin'sinnocence would surely sooner or later have been recognized; but theidea of having imprisoned an innocent man and harassed him with myinterrogatories, would have disturbed my sleep and tormented myconscience for a long time."

  "God knows this poor Guespin is not an interesting youth," returned thedetective. "I should be disposed to press him hard were I not certainthat he's half a fool."

  M. Domini gave a start.

  "I shall discharge him this very day," said he, "this very hour."

  "It will be an act of charity," said M. Lecoq; "but confound hisobstinacy; it was so easy for him to simplify my task. I might be able,by the aid of chance, to collect the principal facts--the errand, and awoman being mixed up in the affair; but as I'm no magician, I couldn'tguess all the details. How is Jenny mixed up in this affair? Is she anaccomplice, or has she only been made to play an ignorant part in it?Where did she meet Guespin and whither did she lead him? It is clearthat she made the poor fellow tipsy so as to prevent his going to theBatignolles. Tremorel must have told her some false story--but what?"

  "I don't think Tremorel troubled his head about so small a matter," saidM. Plantat. "He gave Guespin and Jenny some task, without explaining itat all."

  M. Lecoq reflected a moment.

  "Perhaps you are right. But Jenny must have had special orders toprevent Guespin from putting in an alibi."

  "But," said M. Domini, "Jenny will explain it all to us."

  "That is what I rely on; and I hope that within forty-eight hours Ishall have found her and brought her safely to Corbeil."

  He rose at these words, took his cane and hat, and turning to the judge,said:

  "Before retiring--"

  "Yes, I know," interrupted M. Domini, "you want a warrant to arrestHector de Tremorel."

  "I do, as you are now of my opinion that he is still alive."

  "I am sure of it."

  M. Domini opened his portfolio and wrote off a warrant as follows:

  "By the law: "We, judge of instruction of the first tribunal, etc.,considering articles 91 and 94 of the code of criminal instruction,command and ordain to all the agents of the police to arrest, inconformity with the law, one Hector de Tremorel, etc."

  When he had finished, he said:

  "Here it is, and may you succeed in speedily finding this greatcriminal."

  "Oh, he'll find him," cried the Corbeil policeman.

  "I hope so, at least. As to how I shall go to work, I don't know yet. Iwill arrange my plan of battle to-night."

  The detective then took leave of M. Domini and retired, followed by M.Plantat. The doctor remained with the judge to make arrangements forSauvresy's exhumation.

  M. Lecoq was just leaving the court-house when he felt himself pulled bythe arm. He turned and found that it was Goulard who came to beg hisfavor and to ask him to take him along, persuaded that after havingserved under so great a captain he must inevitably become a famous manhimself. M. Lecoq had some difficulty in getting rid of him; but he atlength found himself alone in the street with the old justice of thepeace.

  "It is late," said the latter. "Would it be agreeable to you to partakeof another modest dinner with me, and accept my cordial hospitality?"

  "I am chagrined to be obliged to refuse you," replied M. Lecoq. "But Iought to be in Paris this evening."

  "But I--in fact, I--was very anxious to talk to you--about--"

  "About Mademoiselle Laurence?"

  "Yes; I have a plan, and if you would help me--"

  M. Lecoq affectionately pressed his friend's hand.

  "I have only known you a few hours," said he, "and yet I am as devotedto you as I would be to an old friend. All that is humanly possible forme to do to serve you, I shall certainly do."

  "But where shall I see you? They expect me to-day at Orcival."

  "Very well; to-morrow morning at nine, at my rooms. No--Rue Montmartre."

  "A thousand thanks; I shall be there."

  When they had reached the Belle Image they separated.