“Because—because—”
“Because you would not believe in the logical
sequence of your premises; but I am consistent, and
I say that it seems impossible the murderer arrested
in the Widow Chupin’s drinking den should be
the Duc de Sairmeuse. Hence, the murderer arrested
there, May, the pretended buffoon, is the Duc de Sairmeuse!”
How this idea had entered old Tabaret’s head,
Lecoq could not understand. A vague suspicion
had, it is true, flitted through his own mind; but
it was in a moment of despair when he was distracted
at having lost May, and when certain of Couturier’s
remarks furnished the excuse for any ridiculous supposition.
And yet now Father Tirauclair calmly proclaimed this
suspicion—which Lecoq had not dared seriously
to entertain, even for an instant—to be
an undoubted fact.
“You look as if you had suddenly fallen from
the clouds,” exclaimed the oracle, noticing
his visitor’s amazement. “Do you suppose
that I spoke at random like a parrot?”
“No, certainly not, but—”
“Tush! You are surprised because you know
nothing of contemporary history. If you don’t
wish to remain all your life a common detective, like
your friend Gevrol, you must read, and make yourself
familiar with all the leading events of the century.”
“I must confess that I don’t see the connection.”
M. Tabaret did not deign to reply. Turning to
Father Absinthe, he requested the old detective, in
the most affable tones, to go to the library and fetch
two large volumes entitled: “General Biography
of the Men of the Present Age,” which he would
find in the bookcase on the right. Father Absinthe
hastened to obey; and as soon as the books were brought,
M. Tabaret began turning the pages with an eager hand,
like a person seeking some word in a dictionary.
“Esbayron,” he muttered, “Escars,
Escayrac, Escher, Escodica—at last we have
it—Escorval! Listen attentively, my
boy, and you will be enlightened.”
This injunction was entirely unnecessary. Never
had the young detective’s faculties been more
keenly on the alert. It was in an emphatic voice
that the sick man then read: “Escorval (Louis-Guillaume,
baron d’).—Diplomatist and politician,
born at Montaignac, December 3d, 1769; of an old family
of lawyers. He was completing his studies in
Paris at the outbreak of the Revolution and embraced
the popular cause with all the ardor of youth.
But, soon disapproving the excesses committed in the
name of Liberty, he sided with the Reactionists, advised,
perhaps, by Roederer, who was one of his relatives.
Commended to the favor of the First Counsel by M.
de Talleyrand, he began his diplomatic career with
a mission to Switzerland; and during the existence
of the First Empire he was entrusted with many important
negotiations. Devoted to the Emperor, he found
himself gravely compromised at the advent of the Second
