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?‰mile, 1836-1873

"Monsieur Lecoq"

"
"All right; Father Absinthe shall be there when the doors open."
To send Father Absinthe where a shrewd and subtle agent was required was
a mockery. Still Lecoq did not protest, for it was better to be badly
served than to be betrayed; and he could at least trust Father Absinthe.
"It doesn't much matter," continued Gevrol; "but you should have
informed me of this last evening. However, when I reached the prefecture
you had gone."
"I had some work to do."
"Yes?"
"At the station-house near the Barriere d'Italie. I wanted to know
whether the floor of the cell was paved or tiled." So saying, Lecoq paid
the score, saluted his superior officer, and went out.
"Thunder!" exclaimed Gevrol, striking his glass violently upon the
counter. "Thunder! how that fellow provokes me! He does not know the A
B C of his profession. When he can't discover anything, he invents
wonderful stories, and then misleads the magistrates with his
high-sounding phrases, in the hope of gaining promotion. I'll give him
advancement with a vengeance! I'll teach him to set himself above me!"
Lecoq had not been deceived. The evening before, he had visited the
station-house where the prisoner had first been confined, and had
compared the soil of the cell floor with the dust he had placed in
his pocket; and he carried away with him, as he believed, one of those
crushing proofs that often suffice to extort from the most obstinate
criminal a complete confession.


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