The door at which he had knocked soon opened, and the grave, clean-shaven face of Otto, the duke’s first valet de chambre, showed itself.  “What the deuce do you want?” he asked in surly tones.

“To enter Monseigneur’s room,” replied the Suisse, “in order to see if the fugitive has not taken refuge there.”

“Are you crazy?” exclaimed the head valet de chambre.  “How could any one have entered here?  Besides, I can’t suffer Monsieur le Duc to be disturbed.  He has been at work all night, and he is just going to take a bath before going to bed.”

The Suisse seemed very vexed at this rebuff; and Lecoq was presenting his excuses, when another voice was heard exclaiming.  “Let these worthy men do their duty, Otto.”

“Ah! do you hear that!” exclaimed the Suisse triumphantly.

“Very well, since Monsieur le Duc permits it.  Come in, I will light you through the apartments.”

Lecoq entered, but it was only for form’s sake that he walked through the different apartments; a library, an admirable study, and a charming smoking-room.  As he was passing through the bed-chamber, he had the honor of seeing the Duc de Sairmeuse through the half-open door of a small, white, marble bath-room.

“Ah, well!” cried the duke, affably, “is the fugitive still invisible?”

“Still invisible, monsieur,” Lecoq respectfully replied.

The valet de chambre did not share his master’s good humor.  “I think, gentlemen,” said he, “that you may spare yourselves the trouble of visiting the apartments of the duchess.  It is a duty we have taken upon ourselves—­the women and I—­and we have looked even in the bureau drawers.”

Upon the landing the old footman, who had not ventured to enter his master’s apartments, was awaiting the detectives.  He had doubtless received his orders, for he politely inquired if they desired anything, and if, after such a fatiguing night, they would not find some cold meat and a glass of wine acceptable.  Father Absinthe’s eyes sparkled.  He probably thought that in this royal abode they must have delicious things to eat and drink—­such viands, indeed, as he had never tasted in his life.  But Lecoq civilly refused, and left the Hotel de Sairmeuse, reluctantly followed by his old companion.

He was eager to be alone.  For several hours he had been making immense efforts to conceal his rage and despair.  May escaped! vanished! evaporated!  The thought drove him almost mad.  What he had declared to be impossible had nevertheless occurred.  In his confidence and pride, he had sworn to answer for the prisoner’s head with his own life; and yet he had allowed him to slip between his fingers.

When he was once more in the street, he paused in front of Father Absinthe, and crossing his arms, inquired:  “Well, my friend, what do you think of all this?”

The old detective shook his head, and in serene unconsciousness of his want of tact, responded:  “I think that Gevrol will chuckle with delight.”