no doubt said to
himself: 'I can't investigate the offenses of a man I hate!' He was
certainly terribly perplexed. When you tried to speak to him, as he was
leaving the prison, he harshly told you to wait till the next day; and a
quarter of an hour later he pretended to fall down and break his leg."

"Then you think that M. d'Escorval and May are enemies?" inquired Lecoq.

"Don't the facts prove that beyond a doubt?" retorted Tabaret. "If they
had been friends, the magistrate might have acted in the same manner;
but then the prisoner wouldn't have attempted to strangle himself. But
thanks to you; his life was saved; for he owes his life to you. During
the night, confined in a straight-waistcoat, he was powerless to injure
himself. Ah! how he must have suffered that night! What agony! So,
in the morning, when he was conducted to the magistrate's room for
examination, it was with a sort of frenzy that he dashed into the
dreaded presence of his enemy. He expected to find M. d'Escorval there,
ready to triumph over his misfortunes; and he intended to say: 'Yes,
it's I. There is a fatality in it. I have killed three men, and I am
in your power. But there is a mortal feud between us, and for that
very reason you haven't the right to prolong my tortures! It would be
infamous cowardice if you did so.' However, instead of M. d'Escorval,
he sees M. Segmuller. Then what happens? He is surprised, and his eyes
betray the astonishment he feels when he realizes the generosity of his
enemy--an enemy from whom he had expected no indulgence. Then a smile
comes to his lips--a smile of hope; for he thinks, since M. d'Escorval
has not betrayed his secret, that he may be able to keep it, and emerge,
perhaps, from this shadow of shame and crime with his name and honor
still untarnished."

Old Tabaret paused, and then, with a sudden change of tone and an
ironical gesture, he added: "And that--is my explanation."

Father Absinthe had risen, frantic with delight. "Cristi!" he exclaimed,
"that's it! that's it!"

Lecoq's approbation was none the less evident although unspoken. He
could appreciate this rapid and wonderful work of induction far better
than his companion.

For a moment or two old Tabaret reclined upon his pillows enjoying
the sweets of admiration; then he continued: "Do you wish for further
proofs, my boy? Recollect the perseverance M. d'Escorval displayed in
sending to M. Segmuller for information. I admit that a man may have