Monsieur Lecoq | Page 4

to be Shrove Sunday, a party of detectives left the
police station near the old Barriere d'Italie to the direct south of Paris.
Their mission was to explore the district extending on the one hand
between the highroad to Fontainebleau and the Seine, and on the other
between the outer boulevards and the fortifications.
This quarter of the city had at that time anything but an enviable
reputation. To venture there at night was considered so dangerous that
the soldiers from the outlying forts who came in to Paris with
permission to go to the theatre, were ordered to halt at the barriere, and
not to pass through the perilous district excepting in parties of three or
four.
After midnight, these gloomy, narrow streets became the haunt of
numerous homeless vagabonds, and escaped criminals and malefactors,
moreover, made the quarter their rendezvous. If the day had been a
lucky one, they made merry over their spoils, and when sleep overtook
them, hid in doorways or among the rubbish in deserted houses. Every
effort had been made to dislodge these dangerous guests, but the most
energetic measures had failed to prove successful. Watched, hunted,
and in imminent danger of arrest though they were, they always
returned with idiotic obstinacy, obeying, as one might suppose, some
mysterious law of attraction. Hence, the district was for the police an
immense trap, constantly baited, and to which the game came of their
own accord to be caught.
The result of a tour of inspection of this locality was so certain, that the
officer in charge of the police post called to the squad as they departed:
"I will prepare lodgings for our guests. Good luck to you and much
pleasure!"
This last wish was pure irony, for the weather was the most
disagreeable that could be imagined. A very heavy snow storm had
prevailed for several days. It was now beginning to thaw, and on all the
frequented thoroughfares the slush was ankle-deep. It was still cold,
however; a damp chill filled the air, and penetrated to the very marrow
of one's bones. Besides, there was a dense fog, so dense that one could
not see one's hands before one's face.

"What a beastly job!" growled one of the agents.
"Yes," replied the inspector who commanded the squad; "if you had an
income of thirty thousand francs, I don't suppose you'd be here." The
laugh that greeted this common-place joke was not so much flattery as
homage to a recognized and established superiority.
The inspector was, in fact, one of the most esteemed members of the
force, a man who had proved his worth. His powers of penetration were
not, perhaps, very great; but he thoroughly understood his profession,
its resources, its labyrinths, and its artifices. Long practise had given
him imperturbable coolness, a great confidence in himself, and a sort of
coarse diplomacy that supplied the place of shrewdness. To his failings
and his virtues he added incontestable courage, and he would lay his
hand upon the collar of the most dangerous criminal as tranquilly as a
devotee dips his fingers in a basin of holy water.
He was a man about forty-six years of age, strongly built, with rugged
features, a heavy mustache, and rather small, gray eyes, hidden by
bushy eyebrows. His name was Gevrol, but he was universally known
as "the General." This sobriquet was pleasing to his vanity, which was
not slight, as his subordinates well knew; and, doubtless, he felt that he
ought to receive from them the same consideration as was due to a
person of that exalted rank.
"If you begin to complain already," he added, gruffly, "what will you
do by and by?"
In fact, it was too soon to complain. The little party were then passing
along the Rue de Choisy. The people on the footways were orderly; and
the lights of the wine-shops illuminated the street. All these places were
open. There is no fog or thaw that is potent enough to dismay lovers of
pleasure. And a boisterous crowd of maskers filled each tavern, and
public ballroom. Through the open windows came alternately the
sounds of loud voices and bursts of noisy music. Occasionally, a
drunken man staggered along the pavement, or a masked figure crept
by in the shadow cast by the houses.
Before certain establishments Gevrol commanded a halt. He gave a
peculiar whistle, and almost immediately a man came out. This was
another member of the force. His report was listened to, and then the
squad passed on.
"To the left, boys!" ordered Gevrol; "we will take the Rue d'Ivry, and

then cut through the shortest way to the Rue de Chevaleret."
From this point the expedition became really disagreeable. The way led
through an unfinished, unnamed street, full of puddles