gh the apartments."

Lecoq entered, but it was only for form's sake that he walked through
the different apartments; a library, an admirable study, and a charming
smoking-room. As he was passing through the bed-chamber, he had the
honor of seeing the Duc de Sairmeuse through the half-open door of a
small, white, marble bath-room.

"Ah, well!" cried the duke, affably, "is the fugitive still invisible?"

"Still invisible, monsieur," Lecoq respectfully replied.

The valet de chambre did not share his master's good humor. "I think,
gentlemen," said he, "that you may spare yourselves the trouble of
visiting the apartments of the duchess. It is a duty we have taken
upon ourselves--the women and I--and we have looked even in the bureau
drawers."

Upon the landing the old footman, who had not ventured to enter his
master's apartments, was awaiting the detectives. He had doubtless
received his orders, for he politely inquired if they desired anything,
and if, after such a fatiguing night, they would not find some cold
meat and a glass of wine acceptable. Father Absinthe's eyes sparkled.
He probably thought that in this royal abode they must have delicious
things to eat and drink--such viands, indeed, as he had never tasted in
his life. But Lecoq civilly refused, and left the Hotel de Sairmeuse,
reluctantly followed by his old companion.

He was eager to be alone. For several hours he had been making immense
efforts to conceal his rage and despair. May escaped! vanished!
evaporated! The thought drove him almost mad. What he had declared to
be impossible had nevertheless occurred. In his confidence and pride, he
had sworn to answer for the prisoner's head with his own life; and yet
he had allowed him to slip between his fingers.

When he was once more in the street, he paused in front of Father
Absinthe, and crossing his arms, inquired: "Well, my friend, what do you
think of all this?"

The old detective shook his head, and in serene unconsciousness of
his want of tact, responded: "I think that Gevrol will chuckle with
delight."

At this mention of his most cruel enemy, Lecoq bounded from the ground
like a wounded bull. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Gevrol has not won the battle
yet. We have lost May; it is a great misfortune; but his accomplice
remains in our hands. We hold the crafty man who has hitherto defeated
all our plans, no matter how carefully arranged. He is certainly
shrewd and devoted to his friend; but we will see