o great
that for, an instant he could neither think nor move. But he quickly
regained his self-possession, and at once decided what was to be done.
With a sure eye he measured the distance separating him from May's
accomplice, and with three bounds he was upon him. The man in the
slouched hat attempted to shout, but an iron hand stifled the cry in
his throat. He tried to escape, and to beat off his assailant, but a
vigorous kick stretched him on the ground as if he had been a child.
Before he had time to think of further resistance he was bound, gagged,
and carried, half-suffocated, to the corner of the Rue de la Chaise. No
sound had been heard; not a word, not an ejaculation, not even a noise
of shuffling--nothing. Any suspicious sound might have reached May, on
the other side of the wall, and warned him of what was going on.

"How strange," murmured Father Absinthe, too much amazed to lend a
helping hand to his younger colleague. "How strange! Who would have
supposed--"

"Enough! enough!" interrupted Lecoq, in that harsh, imperious voice,
which imminent peril always gives to energetic men. "Enough!--we will
talk to-morrow. I must run away for a minute, and you will remain here.
If May shows himself, capture him; don't allow him to escape."

"I understand; but what is to be done with the man who is lying there?"

"Leave him where he is. I have bound him securely, so there is nothing
to fear. When the night-police pass, we will give him into charge--"

He paused and listened. A short way down the street, heavy, measured
footsteps could be heard approaching.

"There they come," said Father Absinthe.

"Ah! I dared not hope it! I shall have a good chance now."

At the same moment, two sergeants de ville, whose attention had been
attracted by this group at the street corner, hastened toward them. In a
few words, Lecoq explained the situation, and it was decided that one of
the sergeants should take the accomplice to the station-house, while the
other remained with Father Absinthe to cut off May's retreat.

"And now," said Lecoq, "I will run round to the Rue de Grenelle and give
the alarm. To whose house does this garden belong?"

"What!" replied one of the sergeants in surprise, "don't you know the
gardens of the Duke de Sairmeuse, the famous duke who is a millionaire
ten times over, and who was formerly the friend--"

"Ah, yes, I know, I know!" said Lecoq.

"The thief," resumed the sergeant, "walked into a pre