“Her successor would order me off,” exclaimed May.  “I came to reclaim the money I paid for a room I never occupied.”

“Such money is never refunded.”

May uttered some incoherent threat, in which such words as “downright robbery” and “justice” could be distinguished, and then abruptly walked back into the street, slamming the door behind him.

“Well! did I answer properly?” asked Fritz triumphantly as Lecoq emerged from his hiding-place.

“Yes, perfectly,” replied the detective.  And then pushing aside the boy, who was standing in his way, he dashed after May.

A vague fear almost suffocated him.  It had struck him that the fugitive had not been either surprised or deeply affected by the news he had heard.  He had come to the hotel depending upon Madame Milner’s assistance, and the news of this woman’s departure would naturally have alarmed him, for was she not the mysterious accomplice’s confidential friend?  Had May, then, guessed the trick that had been played upon him?  And if so, how?

Lecoq’s good sense told him plainly that the fugitive must have been put on his guard, and on rejoining Father Absinthe, he immediately exclaimed:  “May spoke to some one on his way to the hotel.”

“Why, how could you know that?” exclaimed the worthy man, greatly astonished.

“Ah!  I was sure of it!  Who did he speak to?”

“To a very pretty woman, upon my word!—­fair and plump as a partridge!”

“Ah! fate is against us!” exclaimed Lecoq with an oath.  “I run on in advance to Madame Milner’s house, so that May shan’t see her.  I invent an excuse to send her out of the hotel, and yet they meet each other.”

Father Absinthe gave a despairing gesture.  “Ah! if I had known!” he murmured; “but you did not tell me to prevent May from speaking to the passers-by.”

“Never mind, my old friend,” said Lecoq, consolingly; “it couldn’t have been helped.”

While this conversation was going on, the fugitive had reached the Faubourg Montmartre, and his pursuers were obliged to hasten forward and get closer to their man, so that they might not lose him in the crowd.

“Now,” resumed Lecoq when they had overtaken him, “give me the particulars.  Where did they meet?”

“In the Rue Saint-Quentin.”

“Which saw the other first?”

“May.”

“What did the woman say?  Did you hear any cry of surprise?”

“I heard nothing, for I was quite fifty yards off; but by the woman’s manner I could see she was stupefied.”

Ah! if Lecoq could have witnessed the scene, what valuable deductions he might have drawn from it.  “Did they talk for a long time?” he asked.

“For less than a quarter of an hour.”

“Do you know whether Madame Milner gave May money or not?”

“I can’t say.  They gesticulated like mad—­so violently, indeed, that I thought they were quarreling.”