"Keep yourself easy; I have done what was necessary. I slipped three of
the count's cartes-de-visite in my pocket yesterday during the inquest.
This morning I took down, out of the directory, the names of all the
upholsterers in Paris, and made three lists of them. At this moment
three of my men, each with a list and a photograph, are going from
upholsterer to upholsterer showing them the picture and asking them if
they recognize it as the portrait of one of their customers. If one of
them answers 'yes,' we've got our man."
"And we will get him!" cried the old man, pale with emotion.
"Not yet; don't shout victory too soon. It is possible that Hector was
prudent enough not to go to the upholsterer's himself. In this case we
are beaten in that direction. But no, he was not so sly as that--"
M. Lecoq checked himself. Janouille, for the third time, opened the
door, and said, in a deep bass voice:
"Breakfast is ready."
Janouille was a remarkable cook; M. Plantat had ample experience of the
fact when he began upon her dishes. But he was not hungry, and could not
force himself to eat; he could not think of anything but a plan which he
had to propose to his host, and he had that oppressive feeling which is
experienced when one is about to do something which has been decided on
with hesitation and regret. The detective, who, like all men of great
activity, was a great eater, vainly essayed to entertain his guest, and
filled his glass with the choicest Chateau Margaux; the old man sat
silent and sad, and only responded by monosyllables. He tried to speak
out and to struggle against the hesitation he felt. He did not think,
when he came, that he should have this reluctance; he had said to
himself that he would go in and explain himself. Did he fear to be
ridiculed? No. His passion was above the fear of sarcasm or irony. And
what did he risk? Nothing. Had not M. Lecoq already divined the secret
thoughts he dared not impart to him, and read his heart from the first?
He was reflecting thus when the door-bell rang. Janouille went to the
door, and speedily returned with the announcement that Goulard begged to
speak with M. Lecoq, and asked if she should admit him.
"Certainly."
The chains clanked and the locks scraped, and presently Goulard made his
appearance. He had donned his best clothes, with spotless linen, and a
very high collar. He was respectful, and stood as stiffly as a
well-drilled grenadier before his sergeant.
"What the deuce brought you here?" said M. Lecoq, sternly. "And who
dared to give you my address?"
"Monsieur," said Goulard, visibly intimidated by his reception, "please
excuse me; I was sent by Doctor Gendron with this letter for Monsieur
Plantat."
"Oh," cried M. Plantat, "I asked the doctor, last evening, to let me
know the result of the autopsy, and not knowing where I should put up,
took the liberty of giving your address."
M. Lecoq took the letter and handed it to his guest. "Read it, read it,"
said the latter. "There is nothing in it to conceal."
"All right; but come into the other room. Janouille, give this man some
breakfast. Make yourself at home, Goulard, and empty a bottle to my
health."
When the door of the other room was closed, M. Lecoq broke the seal of
the letter, and read:
"MY DEAR PLANTAT:
"You asked me for a word, so I scratch off a line or two which I shall
send to our sorcerer's--"
"Oh, ho," cried M. Lecoq. "Monsieur Gendron is too good, too flattering,
really!"
No matter, the compliment touched his heart. He resumed the letter:
"At three this morning we exhumed poor Sauvresy's body. I certainly
deplore the frightful circumstances of this worthy man's death as much
as anyone; but on the other hand, I cannot help rejoicing at this
excellent opportunity to test the efficacy of my sensitive paper--"
"Confound these men of science," cried the indignant Plantat. "They are
all alike!"
"Why so? I can very well comprehend the doctor's involuntary sensations.
Am I not ravished when I encounter a fine crime?"
And without waiting for his guest's reply, he continued reading the
letter:
"The experiments promised to be all the more conclusive as aconitine is
one of those drugs which conceal themselves most obstinately from
analysis. I proceed thus: After heating the suspected substances in
twice their weight of alcohol, I drop the liquid gently into a vase with
edges a little elevated, at the bottom of which is a piece of paper on
which I have placed my tests. If my paper retains its color, there is no
poison; if it changes, the poison is there. In this case my paper was of
a light yellow color, and if we were not mistaken, it ought either to
become covered with brown spots, or completely brown. I explained this
experiment beforehand to the judge of instruction and the experts who
were assisting me. Ah, my friend, what a success I had! When the first
drops of alcohol fell, the paper at once became a dark brown; your
suspicions are thus proved to be quite correct. The substances which I
submitted to the test were liberally saturated with aconitine. I never
obtained more decisive results in my laboratory. I expect that my
conclusions will be disputed in court; but I have means of verifying
them, so that I shall surely confound all the chemists who oppose me. I
think, my dear friend, that you will not be indifferent to the
satisfaction I feel--"