Then, while the others
were making ready to depart, he seated himself upon the corner of the
table, apparently oblivious of all that was passing around. He did not
dare to lift his head, for fear of betraying his joy, so much did
he fear that his companions might read his hopes and plans in the
expression of his face.
Inwardly he was wild with impatience. Though the murderer submitted with
good grace to the precautions that were taken to prevent his escape, it
required some time to bind the hands of the Widow Chupin, who fought and
howled as if they were burning her alive. "They will never go!" Lecoq
murmured to himself.
They did so at last, however. Gevrol gave the order to start, and left
the house, addressing a laughing good-by to his subordinate. The latter
made no reply. He followed his comrades as far as the threshold to make
sure that they were really going, for he trembled at the thought that
Gevrol 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 the
distance, and the cries of Widow Chupin died away in the stillness of
the night. It was only then that Lecoq reentered the room. He could
no longer conceal his delight; his eyes sparkled as might those of a
conqueror taking possession of some vast empire: he stamped his foot
upon the floor and exclaimed with exultation: "Now the mystery belongs
to us two alone!"
Authorized by Gevrol to choose one of his comrades to remain with him at
the Poivriere, Lecoq had requested the least intelligent of the party
to keep him company.
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