The permission which Lecoq obtained to remain in charge of the bodies was his first triumph of the best possible augury; but he knew how to dissimulate, and it was in a tone of the utmost indifference that he requested one of his comrades to remain with him.  Then, while the others were making ready to depart, he seated himself upon the corner of the table, apparently oblivious of all that was passing around.  He did not dare to lift his head, for fear of betraying his joy, so much did he fear that his companions might read his hopes and plans in the expression of his face.

Inwardly he was wild with impatience.  Though the murderer submitted with good grace to the precautions that were taken to prevent his escape, it required some time to bind the hands of the Widow Chupin, who fought and howled as if they were burning her alive.  “They will never go!” Lecoq murmured to himself.

They did so at last, however.  Gevrol gave the order to start, and left the house, addressing a laughing good-by to his subordinate.  The latter made no reply.  He followed his comrades as far as the threshold to make sure that they were really going, for he trembled at the thought that Gevrol might reflect, change his mind, and return to solve the mystery, as was his right.

His anxiety was needless, however.  The squad gradually faded away in the distance, and the cries of Widow Chupin died away in the stillness of the night.  It was only then that Lecoq reentered the room.  He could no longer conceal his delight; his eyes sparkled as might those of a conqueror taking possession of some vast empire:  he stamped his foot upon the floor and exclaimed with exultation:  “Now the mystery belongs to us two alone!”

Authorized by Gevrol to choose one of his comrades to remain with him at the Poivriere, Lecoq had requested the least intelligent of the party to keep him company.  He was not influenced by a fear of being obliged to share the fruits of success with his companion, but by the necessity of having an assistant from whom he could, in case of need, exact implicit obedience.

The comrade Lecoq selected was a man of about fifty, who, after a term of cavalry service, had become an agent of the prefecture.  In the humble office that he occupied he had seen prefect succeed prefect, and might probably have filled an entire prison with the culprits he had arrested with his own hands.  Experience had not, however, made him any the shrewder or any the more zealous.  Still he had this merit, when he received an order he executed it with military exactitude, so far as he understood it.  Of course if he had failed to understand it, so much the worse.  It might, indeed, be said of him, that he discharged his duties like a blind man, like an old horse trained for a riding school.

When he had a moment’s leisure, and a little money in his pocket, he invariably got drunk.  Indeed, he spent his life between two fits of intoxication, without ever rising above a condition of semi-lucidity.  His comrades had known, but had forgotten, his name, and his partiality for a certain beverage had accordingly induced them to call him “Father Absinthe.”