When thus assailed, both M. Segmuller and Lecoq
could scarcely restrain those movements of angry impatience which come
naturally to a person who feels certain he is in the right and yet can
not prove it.
"Ah, me!" sometimes exclaimed the magistrate, "why did D'Escorval break
his leg? Had it not been for that cursed mishap, he would have been
obliged to endure all these perplexities, and I--I should be enjoying
myself like other people."
"And I thought myself so shrewd!" murmured the young detective by his
side.
Little by little anxiety did its work. Magistrate and detective both
lost their appetites and looked haggard; and yet the idea of yielding
never once occurred to them. Although of very different natures,
they were both determined to persevere in the task they had set
themselves--that of solving this tantalizing enigma. Lecoq, indeed,
had resolved to renounce all other claims upon his time, and to devote
himself entirely to the study of the case. "Henceforth," he said to M.
Segmuller, "I also will constitute myself a prisoner; and although the
suspected murderer will be unable to see me, I shall not lose sight of
him!"
It so happened that there was a loft between the cell occupied by May
and the roof of the prison, a loft of such diminutive proportions that
a man of average height could not stand upright in it. This loft had
neither window nor skylight, and the gloom would have been intense,
had not a few faint sun-rays struggled through the interstices of
some ill-adjusted tiles.
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