Part 18 (1/2)
A terribly significant gesture of severing the head from the body left no doubt whatever as to what May meant by the ”something very unpleasant.”
”And yet I am innocent,” continued May, in a sorrowful, reproachful tone.
The magistrate had by this time recovered the full possession of his faculties. Fixing his eyes upon the prisoner and concentrating in one magnetic glance all his power of will, he slowly exclaimed: ”You speak falsely! It was for you that this note was intended.”
”For me! Then I must be the greatest of fools, or why should I have sent for you to show it you? For me? In that case, why didn't I keep it? Who knew, who could know that I had received it?”
These words were uttered with such a marvelous semblance of honesty, May's gaze was frank and open, his voice rang so true, and his reasoning was so specious, that all the governor's doubts returned.
”And what if I could prove that you are uttering a falsehood?” insisted M. Segmuller. ”What if I could prove it-here and now?”
”You would have to lie to do so! Oh! pardon! Excuse me; I mean-”
But the magistrate was not in a frame of mind to stickle for nicety of expression. He motioned May to be silent; and, turning to Lecoq, exclaimed: ”Show the prisoner that you have discovered the key to his secret correspondence.”
A sudden change pa.s.sed over May's features. ”Ah! it is this agent of police who says the letter was for me,” he remarked in an altered tone. ”The same agent who a.s.serts that I am a grand seigneur.” Then, looking disdainfully at Lecoq, he added: ”Under these circ.u.mstances there's no hope for me. When the police are absolutely determined that a man shall be found guilty, they contrive to prove his guilt; everybody knows that. And when a prisoner receives no letters, an agent, who wishes to show that he is corresponding knows well enough how to write to him.”
May's features wore such an expression of marked contempt that Lecoq could scarcely refrain from making an angry reply. He restrained his impulse, however, in obedience to a warning gesture from the magistrate, and taking from the table the volume of Beranger's songs, he endeavored to prove to the prisoner that each number in the note which he had shown M. Segmuller corresponded with a word on the page indicated, and that these various words formed several intelligible phrases. This overpowering evidence did not seem to trouble May in the least. After expressing the same admiration for this novel system of correspondence that a child would show for a new toy, he declared his belief that no one could equal the police in such machinations.
What could have been done in the face of such obstinacy? M. Segmuller did not even attempt to argue the point, but quietly retired, followed by his companions. Until they reached the governor's office, he did not utter a word; then, sinking down into an armchair, he exclaimed: ”We must confess ourselves beaten. This man will always remain what he is-an inexplicable enigma.”
”But what is the meaning of the comedy he has just played? I do not understand it at all,” remarked the governor.
”Why,” replied Lecoq, ”don't you see that he wished to persuade the magistrate that the first note, the one that fell into the cell while you and I were there yesterday, had been written by me in a mad desire to prove the truth of my theory at any cost? It was a hazardous project; but the importance of the result to be gained must have emboldened him to attempt it. Had he succeeded, I should have been disgraced; and he would have remained May-the stroller, without any further doubt as to his ident.i.ty. But how could he know that I had discovered his secret correspondence, and that I was watching him from the loft overhead? That will probably never be explained.”
The governor and the young detective exchanged glances of mutual distrust. ”Eh! eh!” thought the former, ”yes, indeed, that note which fell into the cell while I was there the other day might after all have been this crafty fellow's work. His Father Absinthe may have served him in the first instance just as he did subsequently.”
While these reflections were flitting through the governor's mind, Lecoq suspiciously remarked to himself: ”Who knows but what this fool of a governor confided everything to Gevrol? If he did so, the General, jealous as he is, would not have scrupled to play one such a damaging trick.”
His thoughts had gone no further when Goguet, the smiling clerk, boldly broke the silence with the trite remark: ”What a pity such a clever comedy didn't succeed.”
These words startled the magistrate from his reverie. ”Yes, a shameful farce,” said he, ”and one I would never have authorized, had I not been blinded by a mad longing to arrive at the truth. Such tricks only bring the sacred majesty of justice into contempt!”
At these bitter words, Lecoq turned white with anger. This was the second affront within an hour. The prisoner had first insulted him, and now it was the magistrate's turn. ”I am defeated,” thought he. ”I must confess it. Fate is against me! Ah! if I had only succeeded!”
Disappointment alone had impelled M. Segmuller to utter these harsh words; they were both cruel and unjust, and the magistrate soon regretted them, and did everything in his power to drive them from Lecoq's recollection. They met every day after this unfortunate incident; and every morning, when the young detective came to give an account of his investigations, they had a long conference together. For Lecoq still continued his efforts; still labored on with an obstinacy intensified by constant sneers; still pursued his investigations with that cold and determined zeal which keeps one's faculties on the alert for years.
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 a.s.sizes, 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 ident.i.ty.”
”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 a.s.sizes 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 a.s.sume 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 embarra.s.sed, 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.”