" The tone of resolution
with which the young detective spoke made a deep impression upon the
governor's mind. For an instant he was a believer in Lecoq's theory; and
he was impressed by the strangeness of this conflict between a prisoner,
determined to preserve the secret of his identity, and the agent for the
prosecution, equally determined to wrest it from him. "Upon my word, my
boy, you are not wanting in courage and energy," said he.
"Misdirected as it may be," growled Gevrol, who, although he spoke very
slowly and deliberately, was in his secret soul by no means convinced
of what he said. Faith is contagious, and he was troubled in spite of
himself by Lecoq's imperturbable assurance. What if this debutant in
the profession should be right, and he, Gevrol, the oracle of the
Prefecture, wrong! What shame and ridicule would be his portion, then!
But once again he inwardly swore that this inexperienced youngster could
be no match for an old veteran like himself, and then added aloud: "The
prefect of police must have more money than he knows what to do with, to
pay two men for such a nonsensical job as this."
Lecoq disdained to reply to this slighting remark. For more than a
fortnight the General had profited of every opportunity to make himself
as disagreeable as possible, and the young detective feared he would be
unable to control his temper if the discussion continued. It would be
better to remain silent, and to work and wait for success.
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