Monsieur Lecoq, v. 1

by Emile Gaboriau

  VIII

  Lecoq did not sleep that night, although he had been on his feet formore than forty hours, and had scarcely paused either to eat or drink.Anxiety, hope, and even fatigue itself, had imparted to his bodythe fictitious strength of fever, and to his intellect the unhealthyacuteness which is so often the result of intense mental effort.

  He no longer had to occupy himself with imaginary deductions, as informer times when in the employ of his patron, the astronomer. Onceagain did the fact prove stranger than fiction. Here was reality--aterrible reality personified by the corpses of three victims lying onthe marble slabs at the Morgue. Still, if the catastrophe itself was apatent fact, its motive, its surroundings, could only be conjectured.Who could tell what circumstances had preceded and paved the way forthis tragical denouement?

  It is true that all doubt might be dispelled by one discovery--theidentity of the murderer. Who was he? Who was right, Gevrol or Lecoq?The former's views were shared by the officials at the prison;the latter stood alone. Again, the former's opinion was based uponformidable proof, the evidence of sight; while Lecoq's hypothesis restedonly on a series of subtle observations and deductions, starting from asingle sentence that had fallen from the prisoner's lips.

  And yet Lecoq resolutely persisted in his theory, guided by thefollowing reasons. He learnt from M. d'Escorval's clerk that when themagistrate had examined the prisoner, the latter not only refused toconfess, but answered all the questions put to him in the most evasivefashion. In several instances, moreover, he had not replied at all. Ifthe magistrate had not insisted, it was because this first examinationwas a mere formality, solely intended to justify the somewhat prematuredelivery of the order to imprison the accused.

  Now, under these circumstances, how was one to explain the prisoner'sattempt at self-destruction? Prison statistics show that habitualoffenders do not commit suicide. When apprehended for a criminal act,they are sometimes seized with a wild frenzy and suffer repeated nervousattacks; at others they fall into a dull stupor, just as some gluttedbeast succumbs to sleep with the blood of his prey still dripping fromhis lips. However, such men never think of putting an end to their days.They hold fast to life, no matter how seriously they may be compromised.In truth, they are cowards.

  On the other hand, the unfortunate fellow who, in a moment of frenzy,commits a crime, not unfrequently seeks to avoid the consequences of hisact by self-destruction.

  Hence, the prisoner's frustrated attempt at suicide was a strongargument in favor of Lecoq's theory. This wretched man's secret must bea terrible one since he held it dearer than life, since he had tried todestroy himself that he might take it unrevealed to the grave.

  Four o'clock was striking when Lecoq sprang from his bed on which he hadthrown himself without undressing; and five minutes later he was walkingdown the Rue Montmartre. The weather was still cold and muggy; and athick fog hung over the city. But the young detective was tooengrossed with his own thoughts to pay attention to any atmosphericalunpleasantness. Walking with a brisk stride, he had just reached thechurch of Saint Eustache, when a coarse, mocking voice accosted him withthe exclamation: "Ah, ha! my fine fellow!"

  He looked up and perceived Gevrol, who, with three of his men, had cometo cast his nets round about the markets, whence the police generallyreturn with a good haul of thieves and vagabonds.

  "You are up very early this morning, Monsieur Lecoq," continued theinspector; "you are still trying to discover our man's identity, Isuppose?"

  "Still trying."

  "Is he a prince in disguise, or only a marquis?"

  "One or the other, I am quite certain."

  "All right then. In that case you will not refuse us the opportunity todrink to your success."

  Lecoq consented, and the party entered a wine-shop close by. When theglasses were filled, Lecoq turned to Gevrol and exclaimed: "Upon myword, General, our meeting will save me a long walk. I was going to theprefecture to request you, on M. d'Escorval's behalf, to send one ofour comrades to the Morgue this morning. The affair at the Poivriere hasbeen noised about, and all the world will be there, so he desires someofficer to be present to watch the crowd and listen to the remarks ofthe visitors."

  "All right; Father Absinthe shall be there when the doors open."

  To send Father Absinthe where a shrewd and subtle agent was required wasa mockery. Still Lecoq did not protest, for it was better to be badlyserved than to be betrayed; and he could at least trust Father Absinthe.

  "It doesn't much matter," continued Gevrol; "but you should haveinformed me of this last evening. However, when I reached the prefectureyou had gone."

  "I had some work to do."

  "Yes?"

  "At the station-house near the Barriere d'Italie. I wanted to knowwhether the floor of the cell was paved or tiled." So saying, Lecoq paidthe score, saluted his superior officer, and went out.

  "Thunder!" exclaimed Gevrol, striking his glass violently upon thecounter. "Thunder! how that fellow provokes me! He does not know the AB C of his profession. When he can't discover anything, he inventswonderful stories, and then misleads the magistrates with hishigh-sounding phrases, in the hope of gaining promotion. I'll give himadvancement with a vengeance! I'll teach him to set himself above me!"

  Lecoq had not been deceived. The evening before, he had visited thestation-house where the prisoner had first been confined, and hadcompared the soil of the cell floor with the dust he had placed inhis pocket; and he carried away with him, as he believed, one of thosecrushing proofs that often suffice to extort from the most obstinatecriminal a complete confession. If Lecoq was in haste to part companywith Gevrol, it was because he was anxious to pursue his investigationsstill further, before appearing in M. d'Escorval's presence. He wasdetermined to find the cab-driver who had been stopped by the two womenin the Rue du Chevaleret; and with this object in view, he had obtainedat the prefecture the names and addresses of all the cab-owners hiringbetween the road to Fontainebleau and the Seine.

  His earlier efforts at investigation proved unsuccessful. At the firstestablishment he visited, the stable boys, who were not yet up, swore athim roundly. In the second, he found the grooms at work, but none of thedrivers had as yet put in an appearance. Moreover, the owner refused toshow him the books upon which are recorded--or should be recorded--eachdriver's daily engagements. Lecoq was beginning to despair, when atabout half-past seven o'clock he reached an establishment just beyondthe fortifications belonging to a man named Trigault. Here he learnedthat on Sunday night, or rather, early on Monday morning, one of thedrivers had been accosted on his way home by some persons who succeededin persuading him to drive them back into Paris.

  This driver, who was then in the courtyard harnessing his horse, provedto be a little old man, with a ruddy complexion, and a pair of smalleyes full of cunning. Lecoq walked up to him at once.

  "Was it you," he asked, "who, on Sunday night or rather on Monday,between one and two in the morning, drove a couple of women from the Ruedu Chevaleret into Paris?"

  The driver looked up, and surveying Lecoq attentively, cautiouslyreplied: "Perhaps."

  "It is a positive answer that I want."

  "Aha!" said the old man sneeringly, "you know two ladies who have lostsomething in a cab, and so--"

  The young detective trembled with satisfaction. This man was certainlythe one he was looking for. "Have you heard anything about a crime thathas been committed in the neighborhood?" he interrupted.

  "Yes; a murder in a low wine-shop."

  "Well, then, I will tell you that these two women are mixed up in it;they fled when we entered the place. I am trying to find them. I am adetective; here is my card. Now, can you give me any information?"

  The driver had grown very pale. "Ah! the wretches!" he exclaimed. "Iam no longer surprised at the luck-money they gave me--a louis and twofive-franc pieces for the fare--thirty francs in all. Cursed money! If Ihadn't spent it, I'd throw it away!"

  "And where did you drive them?"
r />   "To the Rue de Bourgogne. I have forgotten the number, but I shouldrecognize the house."

  "Unfortunately, they would not have let you drive them to their owndoor."

  "Who knows? I saw them ring the bell, and I think they went in just as Idrove away. Shall I take you there?"

  Lecoq's sole response was to spring on to the box, exclaiming: "Let usbe off."

  It was not to be supposed that the women who had escaped from the WidowChupin's drinking-den at the moment of the murder were utterly devoidof intelligence. Nor was it at all likely that these two fugitives,conscious as they were of their perilous situation, had gone straightto their real home in a vehicle hired on the public highway. Hence,the driver's hope of finding them in the Rue de Bourgogne was purelychimerical. Lecoq was fully aware of this, and yet he did not hesitateto jump on to the box and give the signal for starting. In so doing, heobeyed a maxim which he had framed in his early days of meditation--amaxim intended to assure his after-fame, and which ran as follows:"Always suspect that which seems probable; and begin by believing whatappears incredible."

  As soon as the vehicle was well under way, the young detective proceededto ingratiate himself into the driver's good graces, being anxious toobtain all the information that this worthy was able to impart.

  In a tone that implied that all trifling would be useless the cabmancried: "Hey up, hey up, Cocotte!" and his mare pricked up her ears andquickened her pace, so that the Rue de Choisy was speedily reached. Thenit was that Lecoq resumed his inquiries.

  "Well, my good fellow," he began, "you have told me the principal facts,now I should like the details. How did these two women attract yourattention?"

  "Oh, it was very simple. I had been having a most unfortunate day--sixhours on a stand on the Boulevards, with the rain pouring all the time.It was simply awful. At midnight I had not made more than a franc and ahalf for myself, but I was so wet and miserable and the horse seemed sodone up that I decided to go home. I did grumble, I can tell you.Well, I had just passed the corner of the Rue Picard, in the Rue duChevaleret, when I saw two women standing under a lamp, some littledistance off. I did not pay any attention to them; for when a man is asold as I am, women--"

  "Go on!" said Lecoq, who could not restrain his impatience.

  "I had already passed them, when they began to call after me. Ipretended I did not hear them; but one of them ran after the cab,crying: 'A louis! a louis for yourself!' I hesitated for a moment, whenthe woman added: 'And ten francs for the fare!' I then drew up."

  Lecoq was boiling over with impatience; but he felt that the wisestcourse was not to interrupt the driver with questions, but to listen toall he had to say.

  "As you may suppose," continued the coachman, "I wasn't inclined totrust two such suspicious characters, alone at that hour and in thatpart of the city. So, just as they were about to get into the cab, Icalled to them: 'Wait a bit, my little friends, you have promised papasome sous; where are they?' The one who had called after the cab at oncehanded me thirty francs, saying: 'Above all, make haste!'"

  "Your recital could not be more minute," exclaimed Lecoq, approvingly."Now, how about these two women?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean what kind of women did they seem to be; what did you take themfor?"

  "Oh, for nothing very good!" replied the driver, with a knowing smile.

  "Ah! and how were they dressed?"

  "Like most of the girls who go to dance at the Rainbow. One of them,however, was very neat and prim, while the other--well! she was aterrible dowdy."

  "Which ran after you?"

  "The girl who was neatly dressed, the one who--" The driver suddenlypaused: some vivid remembrance passed through his brain, and, abruptlyjerking the rains, he brought his horse to a standstill.

  "Thunder!" he exclaimed. "Now I think of it, I did notice somethingstrange. One of the two women called the other 'Madame' as large aslife, while the other said 'thee' and 'thou,' and spoke as if she weresomebody."

  "Oh! oh! oh!" exclaimed the young detective, in three different keys."And which was it that said 'thee' and 'thou'?"

  "Why, the dowdy one. She with shabby dress and shoes as big as a goutyman's. You should have seen her shake the prim-looking girl, as if shehad been a plum tree. 'You little fool!' said she, 'do you want to ruinus? You will have time to faint when we get home; now come along. Andthen she began to sob: 'Indeed, madame, indeed I can't!' she said, andreally she seemed quite unable to move: in fact, she appeared to be soill that I said to myself: 'Here is a young woman who has drunk morethan is good for her!'"

  These facts confirmed even if they corrected Lecoq's first suppositions.As he had suspected, the social position of the two women was not thesame. He had been mistaken, however, in attributing the higher standingto the woman wearing the shoes with the high heels, the marks of whichhe had so particularly noticed in the snow, with all the attendant signsof precipitation, terror, and weakness. In reality, social preeminencebelonged to the woman who had left the large, broad footprints behindher. And not merely was she of a superior rank, but she had also shownsuperior energy. Contrary to Lecoq's original idea, it now seemedevident that she was the mistress, and her companion the servant.

  "Is that all, my good fellow?" he asked the driver, who during the lastfew minutes had been busy with his horses.

  "Yes," replied the cabman, "except that I noticed that the shabbilydressed woman who paid me had a hand as small as a child's, and in spiteof her anger, her voice was as sweet as music."

  "Did you see her face?"

  "I just caught a glimpse of it."

  "Could you tell if she were pretty, or whether she was a blonde orbrunette?"

  So many questions at a time confused the driver. "Stop a minute!" hereplied. "In my opinion she wasn't pretty, and I don't believe she wasyoung, but she certainly was a blonde, and with plenty of hair too."

  "Was she tall or short, stout or slender?"

  "Between the two."

  This was very vague. "And the other," asked Lecoq, "the neatly dressedone?"

  "The deuce! As for her, I did not notice her at all; all I know abouther is that she was very small."

  "Would you recognize her if you met her again?"

  "Good heavens! no."

  The vehicle was now rolling along the Rue de Bourgogne. Half-way downthe street the driver pulled up, and, turning to Lecoq, exclaimed: "Herewe are. That's the house the hussies went into."

  To draw off the silk handkerchief that served him as a muffler, to foldit and slip it into his pocket, to spring to the ground and enterthe house indicated, was only the work of an instant for the youngdetective.

  In the concierge's little room he found an old woman knitting. Lecoqbowed to her politely, and, displaying the silk handkerchief, exclaimed:"Madame, I have come to return this article to one of your lodgers."

  "To which one?"

  "Really, I don't exactly know."

  In a moment the worthy dame imagined that this polite young man wasmaking fun of her. "You scamp--!" she began.

  "Excuse me," interrupted Lecoq; "allow me to finish. I must tell youthat at about three o'clock in the morning, of the day before yesterday,I was quietly returning home, when two ladies, who were seemingly ina great hurry, overtook me and passed on. One of them dropped thishandkerchief, which I picked up. I hastened after her to restore it,but before I could overtake them they had rung the bell at your door andwere already in the house. I did not like to ring at such an unearthlyhour for fear of disturbing you. Yesterday I was so busy I couldn'tcome; however, here I am at last, and here's the handkerchief." Sosaying, Lecoq laid the handkerchief on the table, and turned as if togo, when the concierge detained him.

  "Many thanks for your kindness," said she, "but you can keep it. We haveno ladies in this house who are in the habit of coming home alone aftermidnight."

  "Still I have eyes," insisted Lecoq, "and I certainly saw--"

  "Ah! I had forgotten," exclaimed the old woman.
"The night you speakof some one certainly did ring the bell here. I pulled the string thatopens the door and listened, but not hearing any one close the dooror come upstairs, I said to myself: 'Some mischievous fellow has beenplaying a trick on me.' I slipped on my dress and went out into thehall, where I saw two women hastening toward the door. Before I couldreach them they slammed the door in my face. I opened it again asquickly as I could and looked out into the street. But they werehurrying away as fast as they could."

  "In what direction?"

  "Oh! they were running toward the Rue de Varennes."

  Lecoq was baffled again; however, he bowed civilly to the concierge,whom he might possibly have need of at another time, and then went backto the cab. "As I had supposed, they do not live here," he remarked tothe driver.

  The latter shrugged his shoulders in evident vexation, which wouldinevitably have vent in a torrent of words, if Lecoq, who had consultedhis watch, had not forestalled the outburst by saying: "Nine o'clock--Iam an hour behind time already: still I shall have some news to tell.Now take me to the Morgue as quickly as possible."

  When a mysterious crime has been perpetrated, or a great catastrophe hashappened, and the identity of the victims has not been established,"a great day" invariably follows at the Morgue. The attendants are soaccustomed to the horrors of the place that the most sickly sight failsto impress them; and even under the most distressing circumstances, theyhasten gaily to and fro, exchanging jests well calculated to make anordinary mortal's flesh creep. As a rule, they are far less interestedin the corpses laid out for public view on the marble slabs in theprincipal hall than in the people of every age and station in life whocongregate here all day long; at times coming in search of some lostrelative or friend, but far more frequently impelled by idle curiosity.

  As the vehicle conveying Lecoq reached the quay, the young detectiveperceived that a large, excited crowd was gathered outside thebuilding. The newspapers had reported the tragedy at the Widow Chupin'sdrinking-den, of course, more or less correctly, and everybody wished tosee the victims.

  On drawing near the Pont Notre Dame, Lecoq told the driver to pull up."I prefer to alight here, rather than in front of the Morgue," he said,springing to the ground. Then, producing first his watch, and nexthis purse, he added: "We have been an hour and forty minutes, my goodfellow, consequently I owe you--"

  "Nothing at all," replied the driver, decidedly.

  "But--"

  "No--not a sou. I am too worried already to think that I took the moneythese hussies offered me. It would only have served me right if theliquor I bought with it had given me the gripes. Don't be uneasy aboutthe score, and if you need a trap use mine for nothing, till you havecaught the jades." As Lecoq's purse was low, he did not insist. "Youwill, at least, take my name and address?" continued the driver.

  "Certainly. The magistrate will want your evidence, and a summons willbe sent you."

  "All right, then. Address it to Papillon (Eugene), driver, care of M.Trigault. I lodge at his place, because I have some small interest inthe business, you see."

  The young detective was hastening away, when Papillon called him back."When you leave the Morgue you will want to go somewhere else," he said,"you told me that you had another appointment, and that you were alreadylate."

  "Yes, I ought to be at the Palais de Justice; but it is only a few stepsfrom here."

  "No matter. I will wait for you at the corner of the bridge. It'suseless to say 'no'; I've made up my mind, and I'm a Breton, you know. Iwant you to ride out the thirty francs that those jades paid me."

  It would have been cruel to refuse such a request. Accordingly, Lecoqmade a gesture of assent, and then hurried toward the Morgue.

  If there was a crowd on the roadway outside, it was because the gloomybuilding itself was crammed full of people. Indeed, the sightseers, mostof whom could see nothing at all, were packed as closely as sardines,and it was only by dint of well-nigh superhuman efforts that Lecoqmanaged to effect an entrance. As usual, he found among the mob a largenumber of girls and women; for, strange to say, the Parisian fair sex israther partial to the disgusting sights and horrible emotions that repaya visit to the Morgue.

  The shop and work girls who reside in the neighborhood readily go out oftheir way to catch a glimpse of the corpses which crime, accident, andsuicide bring to this horrible place. A few, the more sensitive amongthem, may come no further than the door, but the others enter, andafter a long stare return and recount their impressions to their lesscourageous companions.

  If there should be no corpse exhibited; if all the marble slabs areunoccupied, strange as it may seem, the visitors turn hastily away withan expression of disappointment or discontent. There was no fear oftheir doing so, however, on the morrow of the tragedy at Poivriere, forthe mysterious murderer whose identity Lecoq was trying to establish hadfurnished three victims for their delectation. Panting with curiosity,they paid but little attention to the unhealthy atmosphere: and yeta damp chill came from beyond the iron railings, while from the crowditself rose an infectious vapor, impregnated with the stench of thechloride of lime used as a disinfectant.

  As a continuous accompaniment to the exclamations, sighs, and whisperedcomments of the bystanders came the murmur of the water trickling from aspigot at the head of each slab; a tiny stream that flowed forth only tofall in fine spray upon the marble. Through the small arched windowsa gray light stole in on the exposed bodies, bringing each muscle intobold relief, revealing the ghastly tints of the lifeless flesh, andimparting a sinister aspect to the tattered clothing hung around theroom to aid in the identification of the corpses. This clothing, after acertain time, is sold--for nothing is wasted at the Morgue.

  However, Lecoq was too occupied with his own thoughts to remark thehorrors of the scene. He scarcely bestowed a glance on the threevictims. He was looking for Father Absinthe, whom he could not perceive.Had Gevrol intentionally or unintentionally failed to fulfil hispromise, or had Father Absinthe forgotten his duty in his morning dram?

  Unable to explain the cause of his comrade's absence, Lecoq addressedhimself to the head keeper: "It would seem that no one has recognizedthe victims," he remarked.

  "No one. And yet, ever since opening, we have had an immense crowd. If Iwere master here, on days like this, I would charge an admission fee oftwo sous a head, with half-price for children. It would bring in a roundsum, more than enough to cover the expenses."

  The keeper's reply seemed to offer an inducement to conversation, butLecoq did not seize it. "Excuse me," he interrupted, "didn't a detectivecome here this morning?"

  "Yes, there was one here."

  "Has he gone away then? I don't see him anywhere?"

  The keeper glanced suspiciously at his eager questioner, but after amoment's hesitation, he ventured to inquire: "Are you one of them?"

  "Yes, I am," replied Lecoq, exhibiting his card in support of hisassertion.

  "And your name?"

  "Is Lecoq."

  The keeper's face brightened up. "In that case," said he, "I have aletter for you, written by your comrade, who was obliged to go away.Here it is."

  The young detective at once tore open the envelope and read: "MonsieurLecoq--"

  "Monsieur?" This simple formula of politeness brought a faint smile tohis lips. Was it not, on Father Absinthe's part, an evident recognitionof his colleague's superiority. Indeed, our hero accepted it as a tokenof unquestioning devotion which it would be his duty to repay with amaster's kind protection toward his first disciple. However, he had notime to waste in thought, and accordingly at once proceeded to perusethe note, which ran as follows:

  "Monsieur Lecoq--I had been standing on duty since the opening of theMorgue, when at about nine o'clock three young men entered, arm-in-arm.From their manner and appearance, I judged them to be clerks in somestore or warehouse. Suddenly I noticed that one of them turned as whiteas his shirt; and calling the attention of his companions to one of theunknown victims, he whispered: 'Gustave!'<
br />
  "His comrades put their hands over his mouth, and one of them exclaimed:'What are you about, you fool, to mix yourself up with this affair! Doyou want to get us into trouble?'

  "Thereupon they went out, and I followed them. But the person who hadfirst spoken was so overcome that he could scarcely drag himself along;and his companions were obliged to take him to a little restaurant closeby. I entered it myself, and it is there I write this letter, in themean time watching them out of the corner of my eye. I send this note,explaining my absence, to the head keeper, who will give it you. Youwill understand that I am going to follow these men. A. B. S."

  The handwriting of this letter was almost illegible; and there weremistakes in spelling in well-nigh every line; still, its meaning wasclear and exact, and could not fail to excite the most flattering hopes.

  Lecoq's face was so radiant when he returned to the cab that, as the oldcoachman urged on his horse, he could not refrain from saying: "Thingsare going on to suit you."

  A friendly "hush!" was the only response. It required all Lecoq'sattention to classify this new information. When he alighted from thecab in front of the Palais de Justice, he experienced considerabledifficulty in dismissing the old cabman, who insisted upon remaining athis orders. He succeeded at last, however, but even when he had reachedthe portico on the left side of the building, the worthy fellow,standing up, still shouted at the top of his voice: "At M. Trigault'shouse--don't forget--Father Papillon--No. 998--1,000 less 2--"

  Lecoq had entered the left wing of the Palais. He climbed the stairstill he had reached the third floor, and was about to enter the long,narrow, badly-lighted corridor known as the Galerie de l'Instruction,when, finding a doorkeeper installed behind a heavy oaken desk, heremarked: "M. d'Escorval is, of course, in his office?"

  The man shook his head. "No," said he, "M. d'Escorval is not here thismorning, and he won't be here for several weeks."

  "Why not! What do you mean?"

  "Last night, as he was alighting from his carriage, at his own door, hehad a most unfortunate fall, and broke his leg."