ay light stole in on the exposed bodies, bringing each muscle into
bold relief, revealing the ghastly tints of the lifeless flesh, and
imparting a sinister aspect to the tattered clothing hung around the
room to aid in the identification of the corpses. This clothing, after a
certain time, is sold--for nothing is wasted at the Morgue.

However, Lecoq was too occupied with his own thoughts to remark the
horrors of the scene. He scarcely bestowed a glance on the three
victims. He was looking for Father Absinthe, whom he could not perceive.
Had Gevrol intentionally or unintentionally failed to fulfil his
promise, or had Father Absinthe forgotten his duty in his morning dram?

Unable to explain the cause of his comrade's absence, Lecoq addressed
himself to the head keeper: "It would seem that no one has recognized
the victims," he remarked.

"No one. And yet, ever since opening, we have had an immense crowd. If I
were master here, on days like this, I would charge an admission fee of
two sous a head, with half-price for children. It would bring in a round
sum, more than enough to cover the expenses."

The keeper's reply seemed to offer an inducement to conversation, but
Lecoq did not seize it. "Excuse me," he interrupted, "didn't a detective
come here this morning?"

"Yes, there was one here."

"Has he gone away then? I don't see him anywhere?"

The keeper glanced suspiciously at his eager questioner, but after a
moment's hesitation, he ventured to inquire: "Are you one of them?"

"Yes, I am," replied Lecoq, exhibiting his card in support of his
assertion.

"And your name?"

"Is Lecoq."

The keeper's face brightened up. "In that case," said he, "I have a
letter for you, written by your comrade, who was obliged to go away.
Here it is."

The young detective at once tore open the envelope and read: "Monsieur
Lecoq--"

"Monsieur?" This simple formula of politeness brought a faint smile to
his lips. Was it not, on Father Absinthe's part, an evident recognition
of his colleague's superiority. Indeed, our hero accepted it as a token
of unquestioning devotion which it would be his duty to repay with a
master's kind protection toward his first disciple. However, he had no
time to waste in thought, and accordingly at once proceeded to peruse
the note, which ran as follows:

"Monsieur Lecoq--I had been standing on duty since the opening of the
Morgue, when at about nine o'clock three young men entered, arm-in-arm.