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?‰mile, 1836-1873

"Monsieur Lecoq"

Even in the daytime,
when it is thronged with prisoners, witnesses, and guards, it is a sad
and gloomy place. But it is absolutely sinister of aspect at night-time,
when deserted, and only dimly lighted by the smoky lamp of a solitary
attendant, waiting for the departure of some magistrate whom business
has detained later than usual.
Although Lecoq was not sensitive to such influences, he made haste to
reach the staircase and thus escape the echo of his footsteps, which
sounded most drearily in the silence and darkness pervading the gallery.
Finding an open window on the floor below, he looked out to ascertain
the state of the weather. The temperature was much milder; the snow had
altogether disappeared, and the pavement was almost dry. A slight haze,
illumined by the ruddy glare of the street lamps, hung like a purple
mantle over the city. The streets below were full of animation; vehicles
were rolling rapidly to and fro, and the footways were too narrow for
the bustling crowd, which, now that the labors of the day were ended,
was hastening homeward or in search of pleasure.
The sight drew a sigh from the young detective. "And it is in this great
city," he murmured, "in the midst of this world of people that I must
discover the traces of a person I don't even know! Is it possible to
accomplish such a feat?"
The feeling of despondency that had momentarily surprised him was not,
however, of long duration. "Yes, it is possible," cried an inward voice.


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