a single instant. He cursed his inveterate
inclination always to look at events from a romantic impossible side,
instead of considering them as natural commonplace incidents. After all
there was nothing surprising in the fact that a man of the world, such
as he supposed May to be, should know the day set aside by the Duc de
Sairmeuse for the reception of his friends.

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. Let us go and ask his advice, my course will depend on
his reply--come!"

After such a day and such a night, it might have been expected that
these two men would have felt an irresistible desire to sleep and rest.
But Lecoq was sustained by wounded vanity, intense disappointment, and
yet unextinguished hope of revenge: while poor Father Absinthe was not
unlike some luckless