"Isn't that always an escaped prisoner's first impulse?"
Soon afterward May emerged into the street. His appearance was decidedly
changed, for he wore a pair of dark blue linen trousers, of the type
French "navvies" habitually affect, and a loosely fitting coat of rough
woolen material. A gay silk 'kerchief was knotted about his throat, and
a black silk cap was set on one side of his head. Thus attired, he was
scarcely more prepossessing in appearance than Lecoq, and one would have
hesitated before deciding which of the two it would be preferable to
meet at night on a deserted highway.
May seemed very well pleased with his transformation, and was evidently
more at ease in his new attire. On leaving the shop, however, he glanced
suspiciously around him, as if to ascertain which of the passers-by were
watching his movements. He had not parted with his broadcloth suit, but
was carrying it under his arm, wrapped up in a handkerchief. The only
thing he had left behind him was his tall chimney-pot hat.
Lecoq would have liked to enter the shop and make some inquiries, but he
felt that it would be imprudent to do so, for May had settled his cap
on his head with a gesture that left no doubt as to his intentions. A
second later he turned into the Rue du Temple, and now the chase began
in earnest; for the fugitive proved as swift and agile as a stag, and
it was no small task to keep him well in sight. He had no doubt lived in
England and Germany, since he spoke the language of these countries like
a native; but one thing was certain--he knew Paris as thoroughly as the
most expert Parisian.
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