The young detective had nothing more to expect from Couturier. He
thanked him, and after shaking hands with the superintendent, walked
away, leaning on Father Absinthe's arm. For he really had need of
support. His legs trembled, his head whirled, and he felt sick both
in body and in mind. He had failed miserably, disgracefully. He had
flattered himself that he possessed a genius for his calling, and yet he
had been easily outwitted.
To rid himself of pursuit, May had only had to invent a pretended
accomplice, and this simple stratagem had sufficed to nonplus those who
were on his trail.
Father Absinthe was rendered uneasy by his colleague's evident
dejection. "Where are we going?" he inquired; "to the Palais de Justice,
or to the Prefecture de Police?"
Lecoq shuddered on hearing this question, which brought him face to
face with the horrible reality of his situation. "To the Prefecture!" he
responded. "Why should I go there? To expose myself to Gevrol's insults,
perhaps? I haven't courage enough for that. Nor do I feel that I have
strength to go to M. Segmuller and say: 'Forgive me: you have judged me
too favorably. I am a fool!'"
"What are we to do?"
"Ah! I don't know. Perhaps I shall embark for America--perhaps I shall
throw myself into the river."
He had walked about a hundred yards when suddenly he stopped short.
"No!" he exclaimed, with a furious stamp of his foot. "No, this
affair shan't end like this. I have sworn to have the solution of the
enigma--and I will have it!" For a moment he reflected; then, in a
calmer voice, he added: "There is one man who can save us, a man who
will see what I haven't been able to discern, who will understand things
that I couldn't.
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