"Poor boy!" he said. "Know, then, that the day when you were summoned
with the commissary to verify the robbery, you had--I will not say
certainly but very probably--between your two large and stupid hands
the means of knowing which key, the banker's or the cashier's, had
been used in committing the theft."
"What an idea!"
"You want proof? Very well. Do you remember that mark which you
observed on the side of the copper? It struck you, for you did not
repress an exclamation when you saw it. You examined it carefully with
a glass; and you were convinced that it was quite fresh, and therefore
made recently. You said, and with reason, that this mark dated from
the moment of the theft. But with what had it been made? With a key,
evidently. That being the case, you should have demanded the keys of
the banker and the cashier, and examined them attentively. One of
these would have shown some atoms of the green paint with which a
strong-box is usually coated."
Fanferlot listened with open mouth to this explanation. At the last
words, he slapped his forehead violently, and cried--of
himself--"Imbecile!"
"You are right," replied M. Lecoq--"imbecile. What! With such a guide
before your eyes, you neglected it and drew no conclusion! This is the
one clue to the affair. If I find the guilty one, it will be by means
of this mark, and I will find him; I am determined to do it."
When away from Lecoq, Fanferlot, nicknamed the Squirrel, often
slandered and defied him; but in his presence he yielded to the
magnetic influence which this extraordinary man exercised upon all who
came near him.
Such exact information and such minute details perplexed his mind.
Where and how could M. Lecoq have gathered them?
"You have been studying the case, master?"
"Probably. But as I am not infallible, I may have let some valuable
point escape me. Sit down, and tell me all that you know."
One could not prevaricate with M. Lecoq. Therefore Fanferlot told the
exact truth,--which was not his custom. However, before the end of his
recital, his vanity prevented him from telling how he had been tricked
by Mademoiselle Nina Gypsy and the stout gentleman.
Unfortunately, M. Lecoq was never informed by halves.
"It seems to me, Master Squirrel," he said, "that you have forgotten
something. How far did you follow the empty cab?"
Fanferlot, despite his assurance, blushed to his ears, and dropped his
eyes like a schoolboy caught in a guilty act.
"O patron," he stammered, "you know that too? How could you have--"
Suddenly a thought flashed through his brain: he stopped, and bounding
from his chair, cried, "Oh, I am sure--that stout gentleman with the
red whiskers was you!"
Fanferlot's surprise gave such a ridiculous expression to his face
that M. Lecoq could not help smiling.
"Then it _was_ you," continued the amazed detective, "it was you, that
fat man at whom I stared. I did not recognize you! Ah, patron, what an
actor you would make if you pleased! And _I_ was disguised also!"
"But very poorly, my poor boy, I tell you for your own good. Do you
think a heavy beard and a blouse sufficient to evade detection? But
the eye, stupid fellow, the eye! It is the eye that must be changed.
There is the secret."
This theory of disguise explains why the official, lynx-like Lecoq
never appeared at the police office without his gold spectacles.
"But then, patron," continued Fanferlot, working out the idea, "you
have made the little girl confess, although Madame Alexandre failed?
You know then why she left 'The Grand-Archange'; why she did not wait
for M. Louis de Clameran; and why she bought calico dresses for
herself?"
"She never acts without my instructions."
"In this case," said the detective, greatly discouraged, "there is
nothing more for me to do except acknowledge myself a fool."
"No, Squirrel," replied M. Lecoq with kindness; "no, you are not a
fool; you are simply wrong in undertaking a task beyond your powers.
Have you made one progressive step since you began this case? No. This
only proves that you are incomparable as a lieutenant, but that you
have not the _sang-froid_ of a general. I will give you an aphorism;
keep it, and make it a rule of conduct--'Some men may shine in the
second who are eclipsed in the first rank.'"...
Egotist, like all great artists, M. Lecoq had never had, nor did he
wish to have, a pupil. He worked alone. He despised assistants; for he
did not wish to share the pleasures of triumph nor the bitterness of
defeat.
Therefore Fanferlot, who knew his patron so well, was astonished to
hear him, who had heretofore given nothing but orders, helping him
with counsel.
He was so mystified that he could not help showing his surprise.
"It seems to me, patron," he risked saying, "that you take a strong
personal interest in this case, that you study it so closely."
M. Lecoq started nervously,--which motion escaped his detective,--and
then, frowning, he said in a hard voice:--
"It is your nature to be curious, Master Squirrel; but take care that
you do not go too far. Do you understand?"
Fanferlot began to offer excuses.
"Enough! Enough!" interrupted M. Lecoq. "If I lend you a helping hand,
it is because I wish to. I wish to be the head while you are the arm.
Alone, with your preconceived ideas, you never would find the guilty
one. If we two do not find him together, then I am not M. Lecoq."
"We shall succeed, if you make it your business."
"Yes, I am entangled in it, and during four days I have learned many
things. However, keep this quiet. I have reasons for not being known
in this case. Whatever happens, I forbid you to mention my name. If we
succeed, the success must be given to you. And above all, do not seek
explanations. Be satisfied with what I tell you."
These charges seemed to fill Fanferlot with confidence.
"I will be discreet, patron," he promised.
"I depend upon you, my boy. To begin: Carry this photograph of the
strong box to the examining magistrate. M. Patrigent, I know, is as
perplexed as possible upon the subject of the prisoner. You must
explain, as if it were your own discovery, what I have just shown you.
When you repeat all this to him with these indications, I am sure he
will release the cashier. Prosper Bertomy, the accused cashier, must
be free before I begin my work."
"I understand, patron. But shall I let M. Patrigent see that I suspect
another than the banker or the cashier?"
"Certainly. Justice demands that you follow up the case. M. Patrigent
will charge you to watch Prosper; reply that you will not lose sight
of him. I assure you that he will be in good hands."
"And if he asks news of--Mademoiselle Gypsy?"