The Widow Lerouge | Page 9

have him," replied the chief of detective
police, "if I have to search every boat on the Seine, from its source to
the ocean. I know the name of the captain, Gervais. The navigation
office will tell me something."
He was interrupted by Lecoq, who rushed into the house breathless.
"Here is old Tabaret," he said. "I met him just as he was going out.
What a man! He wouldn't wait for the train, but gave I don't know how
much to a cabman; and we drove here in fifty minutes!"
Almost immediately, a man appeared at the door, whose aspect it must
be admitted was not at all what one would have expected of a person
who had joined the police for honour alone. He was certainly sixty
years old and did not look a bit younger. Short, thin, and rather bent, he
leant on the carved ivory handle of a stout cane. His round face wore
that expression of perpetual astonishment, mingled with uneasiness,
which has made the fortunes of two comic actors of the Palais-Royal
theatre. Scrupulously shaved, he presented a very short chin, large and

good natured lips, and a nose disagreeably elevated, like the broad end
of one of Sax's horns. His eyes of a dull gray, were small and red at the
lids, and absolutely void of expression; yet they fatigued the observer
by their insupportable restlessness. A few straight hairs shaded his
forehead, which receded like that of a greyhound, and through their
scantiness barely concealed his long ugly ears. He was very
comfortably dressed, clean as a new franc piece, displaying linen of
dazzling whiteness, and wearing silk gloves and leather gaiters. A long
and massive gold chain, very vulgar-looking, was twisted thrice round
his neck, and fell in cascades into the pocket of his waistcoat.
M. Tabaret, surnamed Tirauclair, stood at the threshold, and bowed
almost to the ground, bending his old back into an arch, and in the
humblest of voices asked, "The investigating magistrate has deigned to
send for me?"
"Yes!" replied M. Daburon, adding under his breath; "and if you are a
man of any ability, there is at least nothing to indicate it in your
appearance."
"I am here," continued the old fellow, "completely at the service of
justice."
"I wish to know," said M. Daburon, "whether you can discover some
clue that will put us upon the track of the assassin. I will explain the--"
"Oh, I know enough of it!" interrupted old Tabaret. "Lecoq has told me
the principal facts, just as much as I desire to know."
"Nevertheless--" commenced the commissary of police.
"If you will permit me, I prefer to proceed without receiving any details,
in order to be more fully master of my own impressions. When one
knows another's opinion it can't help influencing one's judgment. I will,
if you please, at once commence my researches, with Lecoq's
assistance."
As the old fellow spoke, his little gray eyes dilated, and became

brilliant as carbuncles. His face reflected an internal satisfaction; even
his wrinkles seemed to laugh. His figure became erect, and his step was
almost elastic, as he darted into the inner chamber.
He remained there about half an hour; then came out running, then
re-entered and then again came out; once more he disappeared and
reappeared again almost immediately. The magistrate could not help
comparing him to a pointer on the scent, his turned-up nose even
moved about as if to discover some subtle odour left by the assassin.
All the while he talked loudly and with much gesticulation,
apostrophising himself, scolding himself, uttering little cries of triumph
or self-encouragement. He did not allow Lecoq to have a moment's rest.
He wanted this or that or the other thing. He demanded paper and a
pencil. Then he wanted a spade; and finally he cried out for plaster of
Paris, some water and a bottle of oil.
When more than an hour had elapsed, the investigating magistrate
began to grow impatient, and asked what had become of the amateur
detective.
"He is on the road," replied the corporal, "lying flat in the mud, and
mixing some plaster in a plate. He says he has nearly finished, and that
he is coming back presently."
He did in fact return almost instantly, joyous, triumphant, looking at
least twenty years younger. Lecoq followed him, carrying with the
utmost precaution a large basket.
"I have solved the riddle!" said Tabaret to the magistrate. "It is all clear
now, and as plain as noon-day. Lecoq, my lad, put the basket on the
table."
Gevrol at this moment returned from his expedition equally delighted.
"I am on the track of the man with the earrings," said he; "the boat went
down the river. I have obtained an exact description of