He had been wondering if this strange man would refuse
the dangerous liberty which had been offered him. But he had been
anxious without cause. May had fled; not thoughtlessly, but with
premeditation.
From the moment when he was left alone, apparently forgotten, in the
insecurely locked compartment, until he opened the door and glanced
around him, sufficient time had elapsed for a man of his intellect and
discernment to analyze and calculate all the chances of so grave a step.
Hence, if he had stepped into the snare laid for him, it must be with
a full knowledge of the risks he had to run. He and Lecoq were alone
together, free in the streets of Paris, armed with mutual distrust,
equally obliged to resort to strategy, and forced to hide from each
other. Lecoq, it is true, had an auxiliary--Father Absinthe. But who
could say that May would not be aided by his redoubtable accomplice?
Hence, it was a veritable duel, the result of which depended entirely
upon the courage, skill, and coolness of the antagonists.
All these thoughts flashed through the young detective's brain with the
quickness of lightning. Throwing down his spade, and running toward a
sergeant de ville, who was just coming out of the Palais de Justice,
he gave him a letter which was ready in his pocket. "Take this to M.
Segmuller at once; it is a matter of importance," said he.
The policeman attempted to question this "loafer" who was in
correspondence with the magistrates; but Lecoq had already darted off on
the prisoner's trail.
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