“Which you will acquaint me with, when I ask for them,” interrupted the magistrate. And oblivious of Lecoq’s chagrin, he drew from his clerk’s portfolio two forms, which he filled up and handed to Gevrol, saying: “Here are two orders; take them to the station, where the murderer and the landlady of this cabin are confined, and have them conducted to the prefecture, where they will be privately examined.” Having given these directions, M. d’Escorval was turning toward the physicians, when Lecoq, at the risk of a second rebuff, interposed. “May I venture, sir, to beg of you to confide this message to me?” he asked of the investigating magistrate. “Impossible, I may have need of you here.” “I desired, sir, to collect certain evidence and an opportunity to do so may not present itself again.” The magistrate perhaps fathomed the young man’s motive. “Then, let it be so,” he replied, “but after your task is completed you must wait for me at the prefecture, where I shall proceed as soon as I have finished here. You may go.” Lecoq did not wait for the order to be repeated. He snatched up the papers, and hastened away. He literally flew over the ground, and strange to say he no longer experienced any fatigue from the labors of the preceding night. Never had he felt so strong and alert, either in body or mind. He was very hopeful of success. He had every confidence in himself, and his happiness would indeed have been complete if he had had another judge to deal with. But M. d’Escorval overawed him to such a degree that he became almost paralyzed in his presence. With what a disdainful glance the magistrate had surveyed him! With what an imperious tone he had imposed silence upon him--and that, too, when he had found his work deserving of commendation. “Still, never mind,” the young detective mentally exclaimed, “no one ever tastes perfect happiness here below.” And concentrating all his thoughts on the task before him, he hurried on his way. VII When, after a rapid walk of twenty minutes, Lecoq reached the police station near the Barriere d’Italie, the doorkeeper, with his pipe in his mouth, was pacing slowly to and fro before the guard-house. His thoughtful air, and the anxious glances he cast every now and then toward one of the little grated windows of the building sufficed to indicate that some very rare bird indeed had been entrusted to his keeping. As soon as he recognized Lecoq, his brow cleared, and he paused in his promenade. “Ah, well!” he inquired, “what news do you bring?” “I have an order to conduct the prisoners to the prefecture.” The keeper rubbed his hands, and his smile of satisfaction plainly implied that he felt a load the less on his shoulders. “Capital! capital!” he exclaimed. “The Black Maria, the prison van, will pass here in less than an hour; we will throw them in, and hurry the driver off--” Lecoq was obliged to interrupt the keeper’s transports of satisfaction. “Are the prisoners alone?” he inquired.