"Attention!" exclaimed the young detective, "there comes our friend!
Quick!--to your post; remember my directions, and keep your eyes open!"
Near them, on the quay, was a large pile of timber, behind which Father
Absinthe immediately concealed himself, while Lecoq, seizing a spade
that was lying idle, hurried to a little distance and began digging in
the sand. They did well to make haste. The van came onward and turned
the corner. It passed the two detectives, and with a noisy clang rolled
under the heavy arch leading to "la Souriciere." May was inside, as
Lecoq assured himself on recognizing the keeper sitting beside the
driver.
The van remained in the courtyard for more than a quarter of an hour.
When it reappeared, the driver had left his perch and the quay opposite
the Palais de Justice, threw a covering over his horses, lighted his
pipe, and quietly walked away. The moment for action was now swiftly
approaching.
For a few minutes the anxiety of the two watchers amounted to actual
agony; nothing stirred--nothing moved. But at last the door of the van
was opened with infinite caution, and a pale, frightened face became
visible. It was the face of May. The prisoner cast a rapid glance around
him. No one was in sight. Then as swiftly and as stealthily as a cat he
sprang to the ground, noiselessly closed the door of the vehicle, and
walked quietly toward the bridge.
Lecoq breathed again. He had been asking himself if some trifling
circumstance could have been forgotten or neglected, thus disarranging
all his plans.
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