The Detective Megapack

by Various Writers

  The magistrate, however, was utterly discouraged. “We must abandon this attempt,” said he. “All the means of detection have been exhausted. I give it up. The prisoner will go to the Assizes, to be acquitted or condemned under the name of May. I will trouble myself no more about the matter.”

  He said this, but the anxiety and disappointment caused by defeat, sneering criticism, and perplexity, as to the best course to be pursued, so affected his health that he became really ill—so ill that he had to take to his bed.

  He had been confined to his room for a week or so, when one morning Lecoq called to inquire after him.

  “You see, my good fellow,” quoth M. Segmuller, despondently, “that this mysterious murderer is fatal to us magistrates. Ah! he is too much for us; he will preserve the secret of his identity.”

  “Possibly,” replied Lecoq. “At all events, there is now but one way left to discover his secret; we must allow him to escape—and then track him to his lair.”

  This expedient, although at first sight a very startling one, was not of Lecoq’s own invention, nor was it by any means novel. At all times, in cases of necessity, have the police closed their eyes and opened the prison doors for the release of suspected criminals. And not a few, dazzled by liberty and ignorant of being watched, have foolishly betrayed themselves. All prisoners are not like the Marquis de Lavalette, protected by royal connivance; and one might enumerate many individuals who have been released, only to be rearrested after confessing their guilt to police spies or auxiliaries who have won their confidence.

  Naturally, however, it is but seldom, and only in special cases, and as a last resort, that such a plan is adopted. Moreover, the authorities only consent to it when they hope to derive some important advantage, such as the capture of a whole band of criminals. For instance, the police perhaps arrest one of a band. Now, despite his criminal propensities the captured culprit often has a certain sense of honor—we all know that there is honor among thieves—which prompts him to refuse all information concerning his accomplices. In such a case what is to be done? Is he to be sent to the Assizes by himself, tried and convicted, while his comrades escape scot free? No; it is best to set him at liberty. The prison doors are opened, and he is told that he is free. But each after step he takes in the streets outside is dogged by skilful detectives; and soon, at the very moment when he is boasting of his good luck and audacity to the comrades he has rejoined, the whole gang find themselves caught in the snare.

  M. Segmuller knew all this, and much more, and yet, on hearing Lecoq’s proposition, he made an angry gesture and exclaimed: “Are you mad?”

  “I think not, sir.”

  “At all events your scheme is a most foolish one!”

  “Why so, sir? You will recollect the famous murder of the Chaboiseaus. The police soon succeeded in capturing the guilty parties; but a robbery of a hundred and sixty thousand francs in bank-notes and coin had been committed at the same time, and this large sum of money couldn’t be found. The murderers obstinately refused to say where they had concealed it; for, of course, it would prove a fortune for them, if they ever escaped the gallows. In the mean while, however, the children of the victims were ruined. Now, M. Patrigent, the magistrate who investigated the affair, was the first to convince the authorities that it would be best to set one of the murderers at liberty. His advice was followed; and three days later the culprit was surprised unearthing the money from among a bed of mushrooms. Now, I believe that our prisoner—”

  “Enough!” interrupted M. Segmuller. “I wish to hear no more on the matter. I have, it seems to me, forbidden you to broach the subject.”

  The young detective hung his head with a hypocritical air of submission. But all the while he watched the magistrate out of the corner of his eye and noted his agitation. “I can afford to be silent,” he thought; “he will return to the subject of his own accord.”

  And in fact M. Segmuller did return to it only a moment afterward. “Suppose this man were released from prison,” said he, “what would you do?”

  “What would I do, sir! I would follow him like grim death; I would not once let him out of my sight; I would be his shadow.”

  “And do you suppose he wouldn’t discover this surveillance?”

  “I should take my precautions.”

  “But he would recognize you at a single glance.”

  “No, sir, he wouldn’t, for I should disguise myself. A detective who can’t equal the most skilful actor in the matter of make-up is no better than an ordinary policeman. I have only practised at it for a twelvemonth, but I can easily make myself look old or young, dark or light, or assume the manner of a man of the world, or of some frightful ruffian of the barrieres.”

  “I wasn’t aware that you possessed this talent, Monsieur Lecoq.”

  “Oh! 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.

  “I think, my poor fellow,” he at length observed, “that you are strangely deceived. We have both been equally anxious to penetrate the mystery that enshrouds this strange man. We have both admired his wonderful acuteness—for his sagacity is wonderful; so marvelous, indeed, that it exceeds the limits of imagination. Do you believe that a man of his penetration would betray himself like an ordinary prisoner? He will understand at once, if he is set at liberty, that his freedom is only given him so that we may surprise his secret.”

  “I don’t deceive myself, sir. May will guess the truth of course. I’m quite aware of that.”

  “Very well. Then, what would be the use of attempting what you propose?”

  “I have come to this conclusion,” replied Lecoq, “May will find himself strangely embarrassed, even when he’s set free. He won’t have a sou in his pocket; we know he has no trade, so what will he do to earn a living? He may struggle along for a while; but he won’t be willing to suffer long. Man must have food and shelter, and when he finds himself without a roof over his head, without even a crust of bread to break, he will remember that he is rich. Won’t he then try to recover possession of his property? Yes, certainly he will. He will try to obtain money, endeavor to communicate with his friends, and I shall wait till that moment arrives. Months may elapse, before, seeing no signs of my surveillance, he may venture on some decisive step; and then I will spring forward with a warrant for his arrest in my hand.”

  “And what if he should leave Paris? What if he should go abroad?”

  “Oh, I will follow him. One of my aunts has left me a little land in the provinces worth about twelve thousand francs. I will sell it, and spend the last sou, if necessary, so long as I only have my revenge. This man has outwitted me as if I were a child, and I must have my turn.”

  “And what if he should slip through your fingers?”

  Lecoq laughed like a man that was sure of himself. “Let him try,” he exclaimed; “I will answer for him with my life.”

  “Your idea is not a bad one,” said M. Segmuller, eventually. “But you must understand that law and justice will take no part in such intrigues. All I can promise you is my tacit approval. Go, therefore, to the Prefecture; see your superiors—”

  With a really despairing gesture, the young man interrupted M. Segmuller. “What good would it do for me to make such a proposition?” he exclaimed. “They would not only refuse my request, but they would dismiss me on the spot, if my name is not already erased from the roll.”

  “What, dismissed, after conducting this case so well?”

  “Ah, sir, unfortunately every one is not of that opinion. Tongues have been wagging busily during your illness. Somehow or other, my enemies have heard of the last scene we had with May; and impudently declare that it was I who imagined al
l the romantic details of this affair, being eager for advancement. They pretend that the only reasons to doubt the prisoner’s identity are those I have invented myself. To hear them talk at the Depot, one might suppose that I invented the scene in the Widow Chupin’s cabin; imagined the accomplices; suborned the witnesses; manufactured the articles of conviction; wrote the first note in cipher as well as the second; duped Father Absinthe, and mystified the governor.”

  “The deuce!” exclaimed M. Segmuller; “in that case, what do they think of me?”

  The wily detective’s face assumed an expression of intense embarrassment.

  “Ah! sir,” he replied with a great show of reluctance, “they pretend that you have allowed yourself to be deceived by me, and that you haven’t weighed at their proper worth the proofs I’ve furnished.”

  A fleeting flush mantled over M. Segmuller’s forehead. “In a word,” said he, “they think I’m your dupe—and a fool besides.”

  The recollection of certain sarcastic smiles he had often detected on the faces of colleagues and subordinates alike, the memory of numerous covert allusions to Casper Hauser, and the Man with the Iron Mask—allusions which had stung him to the quick—induced him to hesitate no longer.

  “Very well! I will aid you, Monsieur Lecoq,” he exclaimed. “I should like you to triumph over your enemies. I will get up at once and accompany you to the Palais de Justice. I will see the public prosecutor myself; I will speak to him, and plead your case for you.”

  Lecoq’s joy was intense. Never, no never, had he dared to hope for such assistance. Ah! after this he would willingly go through fire on M. Segmuller’s behalf. And yet, despite his inward exultation, he had sufficient control over his feelings to preserve a sober face. This victory must be concealed under penalty of forfeiting the benefits that might accrue from it. Certainly, the young detective had said nothing that was untrue; but there are different ways of presenting the truth, and he had, perhaps, exaggerated a trifle in order to excite the magistrate’s rancor, and win his needful assistance.

  “I suppose,” remarked M. Segmuller, who was now quite calm again—no outward sign of wounded vanity being perceptible—“I suppose you have decided what stratagem must be employed to lull the prisoner’s suspicions if he is permitted to escape.”

  “I must confess I haven’t given it a thought,” replied Lecoq. “Besides, what good would any such stratagem do? He knows too well that he is the object of suspicion not to remain on the alert. Still, there is one precaution which I believe absolutely necessary, indispensable indeed, if we wish to be successful.”

  “What precaution do you mean?” inquired the magistrate.

  “Well, sir, I think an order should be given to have May transferred to another prison. It doesn’t in the least matter which; you can select the one you please.”

  “Why should we do that?”

  “Because, during the few days preceding his release, it is absolutely necessary he should hold no communication with his friends outside, and that he should be unable to warn his accomplice.”

  “Then you think he’s badly guarded where he is?” inquired M. Segmuller with seeming amazement.

  “No, sir, I did not say that. I am satisfied that since the affair of the cipher note the governor’s vigilance has been unimpeachable. However, news from outside certainly reaches the suspected murderer at the Depot; we have had material evidence—full proof of that—and besides—”

  The young detective paused in evident embarrassment. He plainly had some idea in his head to which he feared to give expression.

  “And besides?” repeated the magistrate.

  “Ah, well, sir! I will be perfectly frank with you. I find that Gevrol enjoys too much liberty at the Depot; he is perfectly at home there, he comes and goes as he likes, and no one ever thinks of asking what he is doing, where he is going, or what he wants. No pass is necessary for his admission, and he can influence the governor just as he likes. Now, to tell the truth, I distrust Gevrol.”

  “Oh! Monsieur Lecoq!”

  “Yes, I know very well that it’s a bold accusation, but a man is not master of his presentiments: so there it is, I distrust Gevrol. Did the prisoner know that I was watching him from the loft, and that I had discovered his secret correspondence, was he ignorant of it? To my mind he evidently knew everything, as the last scene we had with him proves.”

  “I must say that’s my own opinion,” interrupted M. Segmuller.

  “But how could he have known it?” resumed Lecoq. “He could not have discovered it by himself. 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. “No,” said he, “I haven’t; but even if my hands were full of proofs I should not dare to show them. I should ruin my future. Ah, if ever I succeed, I must expect many such acts of treachery. There is hatred and rivalry in every profession. And, mark this, sir—I don’t doubt Gevrol’s honesty. If a hundred thousand francs were counted out upon the table and offered to him, he wouldn’t even try to release a prisoner. But he would rob justice of a dozen criminals in the mere hope of injuring me, jealous as he is, and fearing lest I might obtain advancement.”

  How many things these simple words explained. Did they not give the key to many and many an enigma which justice has failed to solve, simply on account of the jealousy and rivalry that animate the detective force? Thus thought M. Segmuller, but he had no time for further reflection.

  “That will do,” said he, “go into the drawing-room for a moment. I will dress and join you there. I will send for a cab: for we must make haste if I am to see the public prosecutor today.”

  Less than a quarter of an hour afterward M. Segmuller, who usually spent considerable time over his toilet, was dressed and ready to start. He and Lecoq were just getting into the cab that had been summoned when a footman in a stylish livery was seen approaching.

  “Ah! Jean,” exclaimed the magistrate, “how’s your master?”

  “Improving, sir,” was the reply. “He sent me to ask how you were, and to inquire how that affair was progressing?”

  “There has been no change since I last wrote to him. Give him my compliments, and tell him that I am out again.”

  The servant bowed. Lecoq took a seat beside the magistrate and the cab started off.

  “That fellow is one of D’Escorval’s servants,” remarked M. Segmuller. “He’s richer than I, and can well afford to keep a footman.”

  “D’Escorval’s,” ejaculated Lecoq, “the magistrate who—”

  “Precisely. He sent his man to me two or three days ago to ascertain what we were doing with our mysterious May.”

  “Then M. d’Escorval is interested in the case?”

  “Prodigiously! I conclude it is because he opened the prosecution, and because the case rightfully belongs to him. Perhaps he regrets that it passed out of his hands, and thinks that he could have managed the investigation better himself. We would have done better with it if we could. I would give a good deal to see him in my place.”

  But this change would not have been at all to Lecoq’s taste. “Ah,” thought he, “such a fellow as D’Escorval would never have shown me such confidence as M. Segmuller.” He had, indeed, good reason to congratulate himself: for that very day M. Segmuller, who was a man of his word, a man who never rested until he had carried his plan into execution, actually induced the authorities to allow May to be set at liberty; and the details of this measure only remained to be decided upon. As regards the proposed transfer of the suspected murderer to another prison, this was immediately carried into effect, and May was removed to Mazas, where Lecoq had no fear of Gevrol’s interference.

  That same afternoon, moreover, the Widow Chupin received her condition
al release. There was no difficulty as regards her son, Polyte. He had, in the mean time, been brought before the correctional court on a charge of theft; and, to his great astonishment, had heard himself sentenced to thirteen months’ imprisonment. After this, M. Segmuller had nothing to do but to wait, and this was the easier as the advent of the Easter holidays gave him an opportunity to seek a little rest and recreation with his family in the provinces.

  On the day he returned to Paris—the last of the recess, and by chance a Sunday—he was sitting alone in his library when his cook came to tell him that there was a man in the vestibule who had been sent from a neighboring register office to take the place of a servant he had recently dismissed. The newcomer was ushered into the magistrate’s presence and proved to be a man of forty or thereabouts, very red in the face and with carroty hair and whiskers. He was, moreover, strongly inclined to corpulence, and was clad in clumsy, ill-fitting garments. In a complacent tone, and with a strong Norman accent, he informed the magistrate that during the past twenty years he had been in the employment of various literary men, as well as of a physician, and notary; that he was familiar with the duties that would be required of him at the Palais de Justice, and that he knew how to dust papers without disarranging them. In short, he produced such a favorable impression that, although M. Segmuller reserved twenty-four hours in which to make further inquiries, he drew a twenty-franc piece from his pocket on the spot and tendered it to the Norman valet as the first instalment of his wages.

  But instead of pocketing the proffered coin, the man, with a sudden change of voice and attitude, burst into a hearty laugh, exclaiming: “Do you think, sir, that May will recognize me?”

  “Monsieur Lecoq!” cried the astonished magistrate.

  “The same, sir; and I have come to tell you that if you are ready to release May, all my arrangements are now completed.”