“Lacheneur?  No, this is the first time I’ve heard that name.”

“Take care.  The police have means of finding out a great many things.”

The scapegrace did not flinch.  “I am telling the truth, sir,” he retorted.  “What interest could I possibly have in deceiving you?”

Scarcely had he finished speaking than the door suddenly opened and Toinon the Virtuous entered the room, carrying her child in her arms.  On perceiving her husband, she uttered a joyful exclamation, and sprang toward him.  But Polyte, stepping back, gave her such a threatening glance that she remained rooted to the spot.

“It must be an enemy who pretends that I know any one named Lacheneur!” cried the barriere bully.  “I should like to kill the person who uttered such a falsehood.  Yes, kill him; I will never forgive it.”

The messenger whom M. Segmuller had instructed to go in search of Lecoq was not at all displeased with the errand; for it enabled him to leave his post and take a pleasant little stroll through the neighborhood.  He first of all proceeded to the Prefecture of Police, going the longest way round as a matter of course, but, on reaching his destination, he could find no one who had seen the young detective.

Accordingly, M. Segmuller’s envoy retraced his steps, and leisurely sauntered through the restaurants, cafes, and wine shops installed in the vicinity of the Palais de Justice, and dependent on the customers it brought them.  Being of a conscientious turn of mind, he entered each establishment in succession and meeting now and again various acquaintances, he felt compelled to proffer and accept numerous glasses of the favorite morning beverage—­white wine.  Turn which way he would, however, loiter as long as he might, there were still no signs of Lecoq.  He was returning in haste, a trifle uneasy on account of the length of his absence, when he perceived a cab pull up in front of the Palais gateway.  A second glance, and oh, great good fortune, he saw Lecoq, Father Absinthe, and the virtuous Toinon alight from this very vehicle.  His peace of mind at once returned; and it was in a very important and somewhat husky tone that he delivered the order for Lecoq to follow him without a minute’s delay.  “M.  Segmuller has asked for you a number of times,” said he, “He has been extremely impatient, and he is in a very bad humor, so you may expect to have your head snapped off in the most expeditious manner.”

Lecoq smiled as he went up the stairs.  Was he not bringing with him the most potent of justifications?  He thought of the agreeable surprise he had in store for the magistrate, and fancied he could picture the sudden brightening of that functionary’s gloomy face.