Chương Chương 3 · The two last depositions awakened in M. Daburon’s mind some slight

gleams of hope. In the midst of darkness, the humblest rush-light

acquires brilliancy.

“I will go at once to Bougival, sir, if you approve of this step,”

suggested Gevrol.

“Perhaps you would do well to wait a little,” answered M. Daburon. “This

man was seen on Sunday morning; we will inquire into Widow Lerouge’s

movements on that day.”

Three neighbours were called. They all declared that the widow had

kept her bed all Sunday. To one woman who, hearing she was unwell,

had visited her, she said, “Ah! I had last night a terrible accident.”

Nobody at the time attached any significance to these words.

“The man with the rings in his ears becomes more and important,” said

the magistrate, when the woman had retired. “To find him again is

indispensable: you must see to this, M. Gevrol.”

“Before eight days, I shall have him,” replied the chief of detective

police, “if I have to search every boat on the Seine, from its source

to the ocean. I know the name of the captain, Gervais. The navigation

office will tell me something.”

He was interrupted by Lecoq, who rushed into the house breathless. “Here

is old Tabaret,” he said. “I met him just as he was going out. What a

man! He wouldn’t wait for the train, but gave I don’t know how much to a

cabman; and we drove here in fifty minutes!”

Almost immediately, a man appeared at the door, whose aspect it must be

admitted was not at all what one would have expected of a person who had

joined the police for honour alone. He was certainly sixty years old and

did not look a bit younger. Short, thin, and rather bent, he leant

on the carved ivory handle of a stout cane. His round face wore that

expression of perpetual astonishment, mingled with uneasiness, which

has made the fortunes of two comic actors of the Palais-Royal theatre.

Scrupulously shaved, he presented a very short chin, large and good

natured lips, and a nose disagreeably elevated, like the broad end of

one of Sax’s horns. His eyes of a dull gray, were small and red at the

lids, and absolutely void of expression; yet they fatigued the observer

by their insupportable restlessness. A few straight hairs shaded his

forehead, which receded like that of a greyhound, and through their

scantiness barely concealed his long ugly ears. He was very comfortably

dressed, clean as a new franc piece, displaying linen of dazzling

whiteness, and wearing silk gloves and leather gaiters. A long and

massive gold chain, very vulgar-looking, was twisted thrice round his

neck, and fell in cascades into the pocket of his waistcoat.