Among those she
frequented, moreover, she was known by the nickname of "Toinon the
Virtuous"--a rather vulgar but, at all events, sincere tribute to her
worth.
Grateful for this information, Lecoq returned to the cab. The Rue de la
Butte-aux-Cailles, whither Papillon was now directed to drive, proved to
be very unlike the Boulevard Malesherbes, and one brief glance sufficed
to show that opulence had not here fixed its abode. Luck seemed for
the moment to have turned in Lecoq's favor. At all events, when he and
Father Absinthe alighted at the corner of the street, it so happened
that the very first person the young detective questioned concerning the
virtuous Toinon was well acquainted with her whereabouts. The house
in which she resided was pointed out, and Lecoq was instructed to go
upstairs to the top floor, and knock at the door in front of him. With
such precise directions the two detectives speedily reached Madame
Polyte Chupin's abode.
This proved to be a cold and gloomy attic of medium size, windowless,
but provided with a small skylight. A straw pallet, a broken table,
two chairs, and a few plain kitchen utensils constituted the sole
appointments of this miserable garret. But in spite of the occupant's
evident poverty, everything was neat and clean, and to use a forcible
expression that fell from Father Absinthe, one could have eaten off the
floor.
The two detectives entered, and found a woman busily engaged in making
a heavy linen sack.
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