Nine o'clock had just struck in the belfry of the church of St.
Eustache, when M. Plantat reached Rue Montmartre, and entered the house
bearing the number which M. Lecoq had given him.
"Monsieur Lecoq?" said he to an old woman who was engaged in getting
breakfast for three large cats which were mewing around her. The woman
scanned him with a surprised and suspicious air. M. Plantat, when he was
dressed up, had much more the appearance of a fine old gentleman than of
a country attorney; and though the detective received many visits from
all sorts of people, it was rarely that the denizens of the Faubourg
Saint Germaine rung his bell.
"Monsieur Lecoq's apartments," answered the old woman, "are on the third
story, the door facing the stairs."
The justice of the peace slowly ascended the narrow, ill-lighted
staircase, which in its dark corners was almost dangerous. He was
thinking of the strange step he was about to take. An idea had occurred
to him, but he did not know whether it were practicable, and at all
events he needed the aid and advice of the detective. He was forced to
disclose his most secret thoughts, as it were, to confess himself; and
his heart beat fast. The door opposite the staircase on the third story
was not like other doors; it was of plain oak, thick, without mouldings,
and fastened with iron bars. It would have looked like a prison door had
not its sombreness been lightened by a heavily colored engraving of a
cock crowing, with the legend "Always Vigilant." Had the detective put
his coat of arms up there? Was it not more likely that one of his men
had done it? After examining the door more than a minute, and hesitating
like a youth before his beloved's gate, he rang the bell. A creaking of
locks responded, and through the narrow bars of the peephole he saw the
hairy face of an old crone.
"What do you want?" said the woman, in a deep, bass voice.
"Monsieur Lecoq."
"What do you want of him?"
"He made an appointment with me for this morning."
"Your name and business?"
"Monsieur Plantat, justice of the peace at Orcival."
"All right. Wait."
The peephole was closed and the old man waited.
"Peste!" growled he. "Everybody can't get in here, it seems." Hardly had
this reflection passed through his mind when the door opened with a
noise as of chains and locks. He entered, and the old crone, after
leading him through a dining-room whose sole furniture was a table and
six chairs, introduced him to a large room, half toilet-room and half
working-room, lighted by two windows looking on the court, and guarded
by strong, close bars.
"If you will take the trouble to sit," said the servant, "Monsieur Lecoq
will soon be here; he is giving orders to one of his men."
But M. Plantat did not take a seat; he preferred to examine the curious
apartment in which he found himself. The whole of one side of the wall
was taken up with a long rack, where hung the strangest and most
incongruous suits of clothes. There were costumes belonging to all
grades of society; and on some wooden pegs above, wigs of all colors
were hanging; while boots and shoes of various styles were ranged on the
floor. A toilet-table, covered with powders, essences, and paints, stood
between the fireplace and the window. On the other side of the room was
a bookcase full of scientific works, especially of physic and chemistry.
The most singular piece of furniture in the apartment, however, was a
large ball, shaped like a lozenge, in black velvet, suspended beside the
looking-glass. A quantity of pins were stuck in this ball, so as to form
the letters composing these two names: HECTOR-JENNY.
These names glittering on the black background attracted the old man's
attention at once. This must have been M. Lecoq's reminder. The ball was
meant to recall to him perpetually the people of whom he was in pursuit.
Many names, doubtless, had in turn glittered on that velvet, for it was
much frayed and perforated. An unfinished letter lay open upon the
bureau.
M. Plantat leaned over to read it; but he took his trouble for nothing,
for it was written in cipher.
He had no sooner finished his inspection of the room than the noise of a
door opening made him turn round. He saw before him a man of his own
age, of respectable mien, and polite manners, a little bald, with gold
spectacles and a light-colored flannel dressing-gown.