tention!" 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. 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 ver