Obeying the magistrate's orders, Goguet, the smiling clerk, had just
finished drawing up at least a dozen summonses, when Lecoq returned from
the Prefecture. M. Segmuller at once asked him the result of his errand.
"Ah, sir," replied the young detective, "I have a fresh proof of that
mysterious accomplice's skill. The permit that was used yesterday to see
young Chupin was in the name of his mother's sister, a woman named
Rose Pitard. A visiting card was given her more than a week ago, in
compliance with a request indorsed by the commissary of police of her
district."
The magistrate's surprise was so intense that it imparted to his face
an almost ludicrous expression. "Is this aunt also in the plot?" he
murmured.
"I don't think so," replied Lecoq, shaking his head. "At all events, it
wasn't she who went to the prison parlor yesterday. The clerks at the
Prefecture remember the widow's sister very well, and gave me a full
description of her. She's a woman over five feet high, with a very dark
complexion; and very wrinkled and weatherbeaten about the face. She's
quite sixty years old; whereas, yesterday's visitor was short and fair,
and not more than forty-five."
"If that's the case," interrupted M. Segmuller, "this visitor must be
one of our fugitives."
"I don't think so."
"Who do you suppose she was, then?"
"Why, the landlady of the Hotel de Mariembourg--that clever woman who
succeeded so well in deceiving me. But she had better take care! There
are means of verifying my suspicions.
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