Did not the "articles of conviction" comprise a letter sent by
this man to Gustave, and written, so Lecoq had reason to believe, in
a cafe on the Boulevard Beaumarchais? With such a clue and a little
patience, the mysterious Lacheneur might yet be discovered.
"Now," continued M. Segmuller, "let us speak of the women who
accompanied these unfortunate men. What sort of women were they?"
"Oh! women of no account whatever!"
"Were they well dressed?"
"On the contrary, very miserably."
"Well, give me a description of them."
"They were tall and powerfully built, and indeed, as it was Shrove
Sunday, I first of all took them for men in disguise. They had hands
like shoulders of mutton, gruff voices, and very black hair. They were
as dark as mulattoes--"
"Enough!" interrupted the magistrate, "I require no further proof of
your mendacity. These women were short, and one of them was remarkably
fair."
"I swear to you, my good sir--"
"Do not declare it upon oath. I shall be forced to confront you with an
honest man, who will tell you to your face that you are a liar!"
The widow did not reply, and there was a moment's silence. M. Segmuller
determined to deal a decisive blow. "Do you also affirm that you had
nothing of a compromising character in the pocket of your apron?" he
asked.
"Nothing--you may have it examined; it was left in the house."
"Then you still persist in your system," resumed M. Segmuller. "Believe
me, you are wrong.
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