Monsieur Lecoq, v. 1 Page 2

  II

  The young police agent to whom Gevrol abandoned what he thought anunnecessary investigation was a debutant in his profession. His namewas Lecoq. He was some twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, almostbeardless, very pale, with red lips, and an abundance of wavy blackhair. He was rather short but well proportioned; and each of hismovements betrayed unusual energy. There was nothing remarkable abouthis appearance, if we except his eyes, which sparkled brilliantly orgrew extremely dull, according to his mood; and his nose, the large fullnostrils of which had a surprising mobility.

  The son of a respectable, well-to-do Norman family, Lecoq had receiveda good and solid education. He was prosecuting his law studies in Paris,when in the same week, blow following blow, he learned that his fatherhad died, financially ruined, and that his mother had survived him onlya few hours. He was left alone in the world, destitute of resources,obliged to earn his living. But how? He had an opportunity of learninghis true value, and found that it amounted to nothing; for theuniversity, on bestowing its diploma of bachelor, does not give anannuity with it. Hence of what use is a college education to a poororphan boy? He envied the lot of those who, with a trade at the ends oftheir fingers, could boldly enter the office of any manufacturer, andsay: "I would like to work." Such men were working and eating. Lecoqsought bread by all the methods employed by people who are in reducedcircumstances! Fruitless labor! There are a hundred thousand people inParis who have seen better days. No matter! He gave proofs of undauntedenergy. He gave lessons, and copied documents for a lawyer. He madehis appearance in a new character almost every day, and left no meansuntried to earn an honest livelihood. At last he obtained employmentfrom a well-known astronomer, the Baron Moser, and spent his days insolving bewildering and intricate problems, at the rate of a hundredfrancs a month.

  But a season of discouragement came. After five years of constant toil,he found himself at the same point from which he had started. He wasnearly crazed with rage and disappointment when he recapitulated hisblighted hopes, his fruitless efforts, and the insults he had endured.The past had been sad, the present was intolerable, the futurethreatened to be terrible. Condemned to constant privations, he tried toescape from the horrors of his real life by taking refuge in dreams.

  Alone in his garret, after a day of unremitting toil, assailed by thethousand longings of youth, Lecoq endeavored to devise some means ofsuddenly making himself rich. All reasonable methods being beyond hisreach, it was not long before he was engaged in devising the worstexpedients. In short, this naturally moral and honest young man spentmuch of his time in perpetrating--in fancy--the most abominable crimes.Sometimes he himself was frightened by the work of his imagination: foran hour of recklessness might suffice to make him pass from the ideato the fact, from theory to practise. This is the case with allmonomaniacs; an hour comes in which the strange conceptions that havefilled their brains can be no longer held in check.

  One day he could not refrain from exposing to his patron a little planhe had conceived, which would enable him to obtain five or six hundredfrancs from London. Two letters and a telegram were all that wasnecessary, and the game was won. It was impossible to fail, and therewas no danger of arousing suspicion.

  The astronomer, amazed at the simplicity of the plan, could but admireit. On reflection, however, he concluded that it would not be prudentfor him to retain so ingenious a secretary in his service. This waswhy, on the following day, he gave him a month's pay in advance, anddismissed him, saying: "When one has your disposition, and is poor, onemay either become a famous thief or a great detective. Choose."

  Lecoq retired in confusion; but the astronomer's words bore fruit in hismind. "Why should I not follow good advice?" he asked himself. Policeservice did not inspire him with repugnance--far from it. He had oftenadmired that mysterious power whose hand is everywhere, and which,although unseen and unheard, still manages to hear and see everything.He was delighted with the prospect of being the instrument of such apower. He considered that the profession of detective would enable himto employ the talents with which he had been endowed in a useful andhonorable fashion; besides opening out a life of thrilling adventurewith fame as its goal.

  In short, this profession had a wonderful charm for him. So much so,that on the following week, thanks to a letter from Baron Moser, he wasadmitted into the service. A cruel disenchantment awaited him. He hadseen the results, but not the means. His surprise was like that of asimple-minded frequenter of the theatre, when he is admitted for thefirst time behind the scenes, and is able to pry into the decorationsand tinsel that are so dazzling at a distance.

  However, the opportunity for which he had so ardently longed, for whichhe had been waiting during many weary months, had come, he thought,at last, as he reached the Poivriere with Gevrol and the other policeagents. While he was clinging to the window shutters he saw by thelight of his ambition a pathway to success. It was at first only apresentiment, but it soon became a supposition, and then a convictionbased upon actual facts, which had escaped his companions, but whichhe had observed and carefully noted. He recognized that fortune had, atlast, turned in his favor when he saw Gevrol neglect all but the merestformalities of examination, and when he heard him declare peremptorilythat this triple murder was merely the result of one of those ferociousquarrels so frequent among vagrants in the outskirts of the city.

  "Ah, well!" he thought; "have it your own way--trust in appearances,since you will see nothing beneath them! But I will prove to you that myyouthful theory is better than all your experience."

  The inspector's carelessness gave Lecoq a perfect right to secretly seekinformation on his own account; but by warning his superior officersbefore attempting anything on his own responsibility, he would protecthimself against any accusation of ambition or of unduly taking advantageof his comrade. Such charges might prove most dangerous for his futureprospects in a profession where so much rivalry is seen, and wherewounded vanity has so many opportunities to avenge itself by resortingto all sorts of petty treason. Accordingly, he spoke to his superiorofficer--saying just enough to be able to remark, in case of success:"Ah! I warned you!"--just enough so as not to dispel any of Gevrol'sdoubts.

  The permission which Lecoq obtained to remain in charge of the bodieswas his first triumph of the best possible augury; but he knew how todissimulate, and it was in a tone of the utmost indifference that herequested one of his comrades to remain with him. Then, while the otherswere making ready to depart, he seated himself upon the corner of thetable, apparently oblivious of all that was passing around. He did notdare to lift his head, for fear of betraying his joy, so much didhe fear that his companions might read his hopes and plans in theexpression of his face.

  Inwardly he was wild with impatience. Though the murderer submitted withgood grace to the precautions that were taken to prevent his escape, itrequired some time to bind the hands of the Widow Chupin, who fought andhowled as if they were burning her alive. "They will never go!" Lecoqmurmured to himself.

  They did so at last, however. Gevrol gave the order to start, and leftthe house, addressing a laughing good-by to his subordinate. The lattermade no reply. He followed his comrades as far as the threshold to makesure that they were really going, for he trembled at the thought thatGevrol might reflect, change his mind, and return to solve the mystery,as was his right.

  His anxiety was needless, however. The squad gradually faded away in thedistance, and the cries of Widow Chupin died away in the stillness ofthe night. It was only then that Lecoq reentered the room. He couldno longer conceal his delight; his eyes sparkled as might those of aconqueror taking possession of some vast empire: he stamped his footupon the floor and exclaimed with exultation: "Now the mystery belongsto us two alone!"

  Authorized by Gevrol to choose one of his comrades to remain with him atthe Poivriere, Lecoq had requested the least intelligent of the partyto keep him company. He was not influenced by a fear of being obliged toshare the fruits of success with his companion,
but by the necessity ofhaving an assistant from whom he could, in case of need, exact implicitobedience.

  The comrade Lecoq selected was a man of about fifty, who, after a termof cavalry service, had become an agent of the prefecture. In the humbleoffice that he occupied he had seen prefect succeed prefect, and mightprobably have filled an entire prison with the culprits he had arrestedwith his own hands. Experience had not, however, made him any theshrewder or any the more zealous. Still he had this merit, when hereceived an order he executed it with military exactitude, so far as heunderstood it. Of course if he had failed to understand it, so much theworse. It might, indeed, be said of him, that he discharged his dutieslike a blind man, like an old horse trained for a riding school.

  When he had a moment's leisure, and a little money in his pocket, heinvariably got drunk. Indeed, he spent his life between two fits ofintoxication, without ever rising above a condition of semi-lucidity.His comrades had known, but had forgotten, his name, and his partialityfor a certain beverage had accordingly induced them to call him "FatherAbsinthe."

  With his limited powers of observation, he naturally did not observethe tone of triumph in his young companion's voice. "Upon my word," heremarked, when they were alone, "your idea of keeping me here was a goodone, and I thank you for it. While the others spend the night paddlingabout in the slush, I shall get a good sleep."

  Here he stood, in a room that was splashed with blood, that wasshuddering, so to speak, with crime, and yet face to face with the stillwarm bodies of three murdered men he could talk of sleep!

  But, after all, what did it matter to him? He had seen so many similarscenes in his time. And does not habit infallibly lead to professionalindifference, making the soldier cool and composed in the midst ofconflict, and rendering the surgeon impassible when the patient shrieksand writhes beneath his operating knife.

  "I have been upstairs, looking about," pursued Father Absinthe; "I saw abed up there, and we can mount guard here, by turns."

  With an imperious gesture, Lecoq interrupted him. "You must give upthat idea, Father Absinthe," he said, "we are not here to sleep, but tocollect information--to make the most careful researches, and to noteall the probabilities. In a few hours the commissary of police, thelegal physician, and the public prosecutor will be here. I wish to havea report ready for them."

  This proposition seemed anything but pleasing to the old police agent."Eh! what is the use of that?" he exclaimed. "I know the General. Whenhe goes in search of the commissary, as he has gone this evening, thereis nothing more to be done. Do you think you can see anything that hedidn't see?"

  "I think that Gevrol, like every one else, is liable to be mistaken. Ithink that he believes too implicitly in what seems to him evidence. Icould swear that this affair is not what it seems to be; and I am surethat if we like we can discover the mystery which is concealed beneathpresent appearances."

  Although Lecoq's vehemence was intense, he did not succeed in makingany impression upon his companion, who with a yawn that threatened todislocate his jaws replied: "Perhaps you are right; but I am going tobed. This need not prevent you from searching around, however; and ifyou find anything you can wake me."

  Lecoq made no sign of impatience: nor in reality was he impatient. Thesewords afforded him the opportunity for which he was longing. "You willgive me a moment first," he remarked. "In five minutes, by your watch, Ipromise to let you put your finger on the mystery that I suspect here."

  "Well, go on for five minutes."

  "After that you shall be free, Father Absinthe. Only it is clear that ifI unravel the mystery alone, I alone ought to pocket the reward that asolution will certainly bring."

  At the word "reward" the old police agent pricked up his ears. He wasdazzled by the vision of an infinite number of bottles of the greenishliquor whose name he bore. "Convince me, then," said he, taking a seatupon a stool, which he had lifted from the floor.

  Lecoq remained standing in front of him. "To begin with," he remarked,"whom do you suppose the person we have just arrested to be?"

  "A porter, probably, or a vagabond."

  "That is to say, a man belonging to the lowest class of society:consequently, a fellow without education."

  "Certainly."

  Lecoq spoke with his eyes fixed upon those of his companion. Hedistrusted his own powers, as is usual with persons of real merit, buthe felt that if he could succeed in making his convictions penetrate hiscomrade's obtuse mind, their exactitude would be virtually proved.

  "And now," he continued, "what would you say if I showed you that thisyoung man had received an excellent, even refined, education?"

  "I should reply that it was very extraordinary. I should reply that--butwhat a fool I am! You have not proved it to me yet."

  "But I can do so very easily. Do you remember the words that he utteredas he fell?"

  "Yes, I remember them perfectly. He said: 'It is the Prussians who arecoming.'"

  "What do you suppose he meant by that?"

  "What a question! I should suppose that he did not like the Prussians,and that he supposed he was offering us a terrible insult."

  Lecoq was waiting anxiously for this response. "Ah, well; FatherAbsinthe," he said gravely, "you are wrong, quite wrong. And that thisman has an education superior to his apparent position is proved by thefact that you did not understand his meaning, nor his intention. It wasthis single phrase that enlightened me."

  Father Absinthe's physiognomy expressed the strange and comicalperplexity of a man who is so thoroughly mystified that he knows notwhether to laugh, or to be angry. After reflecting a little, he decidedto adopt the latter course. "You are rather too young to impose upon anold fellow like me," he remarked. "I don't like boasters--"

  "One moment!" interrupted Lecoq; "allow me to explain. You havecertainly heard of a terrible battle which resulted in one of thegreatest defeats that ever happened to France--the battle of Waterloo?"

  "I don't see the connection--"

  "Answer, if you please."

  "Yes--then! I have heard of it!"

  "Very well; you must know then that for some time victory seemed likelyto rest with the banners of France. The English began to fall back, andthe emperor had already exclaimed: 'We have them!' when suddenly on theright, a little in the rear, a large body of troops was seen advancing.It was the Prussian army. The battle of Waterloo was lost."

  In all his life, worthy Father Absinthe had never made such a strenuouseffort to understand anything. In this case his perseverance was notwholly useless, for, springing from his stool, and probably in much thesame tone that Archimedes cried "Eureka!" he exclaimed, "I understand.The man's words were only an allusion."

  "It is as you have said," remarked Lecoq, approvingly. "But I hadnot finished. If the emperor was thrown into consternation by theappearance of the Prussians, it was because he was momentarilyexpecting the arrival of one of his own generals from the samedirection--Grouchy--with thirty-five thousand men. So if this man'sallusion was exact and complete, he was not expecting an enemy, but afriend. Now draw your own conclusions."

  Father Absinthe was amazed but convinced: and his eyes, heavy with sleepa few moments before, now opened to their widest extent. "Good heavens!"he murmured, "if you put it in that way! But I forget; you must haveseen something as you were looking through the shutters."

  The young man shook his head. "Upon my honor," he declared, "I sawnothing save the struggle between the murderer and the poor devildressed as a soldier. It was that sentence alone that aroused myattention."

  "Wonderful! prodigious!" exclaimed the astonished old man.

  "I will add that reflection has confirmed my suspicions. I ask myselfwhy this man, instead of flying at once, should have waited and remainedthere, at that door, to parley with us."

  With a bound, Father Absinthe sprang again to his feet. "Why?" heinterrupted; "because he had accomplices, and he wished to give themtime to escape. Ah! I understand it all now."

  A triumphan
t smile parted Lecoq's lips. "That is what I said to myself,"he replied, "and now it is easy to verify my suspicions. There is snowoutside, isn't there?"

  It was not necessary to say any more. The elder officer seized thelight, and followed by his companion, he hastened to the back door ofthe house, which opened into a small garden. In this sheltered enclosurethe snow had not melted, and upon its white surface the dark stainsof numerous footprints presented themselves. Without hesitation,Lecoq threw himself upon his knees in the snow; he rose again almostimmediately. "These indentations were not made by the men's feet," saidhe. "There have been women here."