Detective and mystery stories; French fiction -- Translations into English
Accordingly, M. Segmuller’s envoy retraced his steps, and leisurely
sauntered through the restaurants, cafes, and wine shops installed in
the vicinity of the Palais de Justice, and dependent on the customers
it brought them. Being of a conscientious turn of mind, he entered
each establishment in succession and meeting now and again various
acquaintances, he felt compelled to proffer and accept numerous glasses
of the favorite morning beverage--white wine. Turn which way he would,
however, loiter as long as he might, there were still no signs of Lecoq.
He was returning in haste, a trifle uneasy on account of the length
of his absence, when he perceived a cab pull up in front of the Palais
gateway. A second glance, and oh, great good fortune, he saw Lecoq,
Father Absinthe, and the virtuous Toinon alight from this very vehicle.
His peace of mind at once returned; and it was in a very important and
somewhat husky tone that he delivered the order for Lecoq to follow him
without a minute’s delay. “M. Segmuller has asked for you a number of
times,” said he, “He has been extremely impatient, and he is in a very
bad humor, so you may expect to have your head snapped off in the most
expeditious manner.”
Lecoq smiled as he went up the stairs. Was he not bringing with him the
most potent of justifications? He thought of the agreeable surprise he
had in store for the magistrate, and fancied he could picture the sudden
brightening of that functionary’s gloomy face.
And yet, fate so willed it that the doorkeeper’s message and his urgent
appeal that Lecoq should not loiter on the way, produced the most
unfortunate results. Believing that M. Segmuller was anxiously waiting
for him, Lecoq saw nothing wrong in opening the door of the magistrate’s
room without previously knocking; and being anxious to justify his
absence, he yielded, moreover, to the impulse that led him to push
forward the poor woman whose testimony might prove so decisive. When he
saw, however, that the magistrate was not alone, and when he recognized
Polyte Chupin--the original of the photograph--in the man M. Segmuller
was examining, his stupefaction became intense. He instantly perceived
his mistake and understood its consequences.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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