After a moment’s hesitation, M. Plantat went on: 

“I have put my life in your hands, Monsieur Lecoq; I can, of course, confide my honor to you.  I know you.  I know that, happen what may—­”

“I shall keep my mouth shut, on my honor.”

“Very well.  The day that I caught Tremorel at the mayor’s, I wished to verify the suspicions I had, and so I broke the seal of Sauvresy’s package of papers.”

“And you did not use them?”

“I was dismayed at my abuse of confidence.  Besides, had I the right to deprive poor Sauvresy, who was dying in order to avenge himself, of his vengeance?”

“But you gave the papers to Madame de Tremorel?”

“True; but Bertha had a vague presentiment of the fate that was in store for her.  About a fortnight before her death she came and confided to me her husband’s manuscript, which she had taken care to complete.  I broke the seals and read it, to see if he had died a violent death.”

“Why, then, didn’t you tell me?  Why did you let me hunt, hesitate, grope about—­”

“I love Laurence, Monsieur Lecoq, and to deliver up Tremorel was to open an abyss between her and me.”

The detective bowed.  “The deuce,” thought he, “the old justice is shrewd—­as shrewd as I am.  Well, I like him, and I’m going to give him a surprise.”

M. Plantat yearned to question his host and to know what the sole means of which he spoke were, which might be successful in preventing a trial and saving Laurence, but he did not dare to do so.

The detective bent over his desk lost in thought.  He held a pencil in his hand and mechanically drew fantastic figures on a large sheet of white paper which lay before him.  He suddenly came out of his revery.  He had just solved a last difficulty; his plan was now entire and complete.  He glanced at the clock.

“Two o’clock,” cried he, “and I have an appointment between three and four with Madame Charman about Jenny.”

“I am at your disposal,” returned his guest.

“All right.  When Jenny is disposed of we must look after Tremorel; so let’s take our measures to finish it up to-day.”

“What! do you hope to do everything to-day—­”

“Certainly.  Rapidity is above all necessary in our profession.  It often takes a month to regain an hour lost.  We’ve a chance now of catching Hector by surprise; to-morrow it will be too late.  Either we shall have him within four-and-twenty hours or we must change our batteries.  Each of my three men has a carriage and a good horse; they may be able to finish with the upholsterers within an hour from now.  If I calculate aright, we shall have the address in an hour, or at most in two hours, and then we will act.”

Lecoq, as he spoke, took a sheet of paper surmounted by his arms out of his portfolio, and rapidly wrote several lines.

“See here,” said he, “what I’ve written to one of my lieutenants.”