Lecoq, having finished his repast, ordered a small glass of brandy, and,
leaning his back against the wall and closing his eyes, pretended to
fall asleep. His ears were wide open, however, and he carefully listened
to the conversation.
Soon May began talking in his turn; and he narrated his story exactly as
he had related it to the magistrate, from the murder up to his
escape, without forgetting to mention the suspicions attached to his
identity--suspicions which afforded him great amusement, he said. He
added that he would be perfectly happy if he had money enough to take
him back to Germany; but unfortunately he only had a few sous and didn't
know where or how to procure any more. He had not even succeeded in
selling some clothing which belonged to him, and which he had with him
in a bundle.
At these words the man in the tattered felt hat declared that he had too
good a heart to leave a comrade in such embarrassment. He knew, in the
very same street, an obliging dealer in such articles, and he offered to
take May to his place at once. May's only response was to rise, saying:
"Let us start." And they did start, with Lecoq at their heels.
They walked rapidly on until passing the Rue Fer-a-Moulin, when they
turned into a narrow, dimly lighted alley, and entered a dingy dwelling.
"Run and ask the concierge if there are not two doors by which any one
can leave this house," said Lecoq, addressing Father Absinthe.
The latter instantly obeyed.
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