"
How many things these simple words explained. Did they not give the key
to many and many an enigma which justice has failed to solve, simply on
account of the jealousy and rivalry that animate the detective force?
Thus thought M. Segmuller, but he had no time for further reflection.
"That will do," said he, "go into the drawing-room for a moment. I will
dress and join you there. I will send for a cab: for we must make haste
if I am to see the public prosecutor to-day."
Less than a quarter of an hour afterward M. Segmuller, who usually spent
considerable time over his toilet, was dressed and ready to start. He
and Lecoq were just getting into the cab that had been summoned when a
footman in a stylish livery was seen approaching.
"Ah! Jean," exclaimed the magistrate, "how's your master?"
"Improving, sir," was the reply. "He sent me to ask how you were, and to
inquire how that affair was progressing?"
"There has been no change since I last wrote to him. Give him my
compliments, and tell him that I am out again."
The servant bowed. Lecoq took a seat beside the magistrate and the cab
started off.
"That fellow is one of D'Escorval's servants," remarked M. Segmuller.
"He's richer than I, and can well afford to keep a footman."
"D'Escorval's," ejaculated Lecoq, "the magistrate who--"
"Precisely. He sent his man to me two or three days ago to ascertain
what we were doing with our mysterious May."
"Then M. d'Escorval is interested in the case?"
"Prodigiously! I conclude it is because he opened the prosecution, and
because the case rightfully belongs to him.
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