inquired Lecoq, timidly.

"At once."

The judge had already turned toward the door when the young policeman
stopped him.

"I have one more favor to ask, Monsieur," he said, entreatingly. "You
are so good; you are the first person who gave me any encouragement--who
had faith in me."

"Speak, my brave fellow."

"Ah! Monsieur, will you not give me a message for Monsieur d'Escorval?
Any insignificant message--inform him of the prisoner's escape. I will
be the bearer of the message, and then--Oh! fear nothing, Monsieur; I
will be prudent."

"Very well!" replied the judge.

When he left the office of his chief, Lecoq was fully authorized to
proceed with his investigations, and in his pocket was a note for M.
d'Escorval from M. Segmuller. His joy was so intense that he did not
deign to notice the sneers which were bestowed upon him as he passed
through the corridors. On the threshold his enemy Gevrol, the so-called
general, was watching for him.

"Ah, ha!" he laughed, as Lecoq passed out, "here is one of those
simpletons who fish for whales and do not catch even a gudgeon."

For an instant Lecoq was angry. He turned abruptly and looked Gevrol
full in the face.

"That is better than assisting prisoners to carry on a surreptitious
correspondence with people outside," he retorted, in the tone of a man
who knows what he is saying.

In his surprise, Gevrol almost lost countenance, and his blush was
equivalent to a confession.

But Lecoq said no more. What did it matter to him now if Gevrol had
betrayed him! Was he not about to win a glorious revenge?

He spent the remainder of the day in preparing his plan of action,
and in thinking what he should say when he took M. Segmuller's note to
Maurice d'Escorval.

The next morning about eleven o'clock he presented himself at the house
of M. d'Escorval.

"Monsieur is in his study with a young man," replied the servant; "but,
as he gave me no orders to the contrary, you may go in."

Lecoq entered.

The study was unoccupied. But from the adjoining room, separated
from the study only by a velvet _portiere_, came a sound of stifled
exclamations, and of sobs mingled with kisses.

Not knowing whether to remain or retire, the young policeman stood for a
moment undecided; then he observed an open letter lying upon the carpet.

Impelled to do it by an impulse stronger than his own will, Lecoq picked
up the letter. It read as follows:

"The bearer of this letter is Mar