let’s imitate my men; I know a restaurant just by here where you can dine capitally; we’ll patronize it.”
And without awaiting a reply, he led M. Plantat to a restaurant in the Passage du Havre. But at the moment he was about to open the door, he stopped and made a signal. Palot immediately appeared.
“I give you two hours to get yourself up so that the porter won’t recognize you, and to have some dinner. You are an upholsterer’s apprentice. Now clear out; I shall wait for you here.”
M. Lecoq was right when he said that a capital dinner was to be had in the Passage du Havre; unfortunately M. Plantat was not in a state to appreciate it. As in the morning, he found it difficult to swallow anything, he was so anxious and depressed. He longed to know the detective’s plans; but M. Lecoq remained impenetrable, answering all inquiries with:
“Let me act, and trust me.”
M. Plantat’s confidence was indeed very great; but the more he reflected, the more perilous and difficult seemed the attempt to save Tremorel from a trial. The most poignant doubts troubled and tortured his mind. His own life was at stake; for he had sworn to himself that he would not survive the ruin of Laurence in being forced to confess in full court her dishonor and her love for Hector.
M. Lecoq tried hard to make his companion eat something, to take at least some soup and a glass of old Bordeaux; but he soon saw the uselessness of his efforts and went on with his dinner as if he were alone. He was very thoughtful, but any uncertainty of the result of his plans never entered his head. He drank much and often, and soon emptied his bottle of Leoville. Night having now come on the waiters began to light the chandeliers, and the two friends found themselves almost alone.
“Isn’t it time to begin?” asked the old justice, timidly.
“We have still nearly an hour,” replied M. Lecoq, consulting his watch; “but I shall make my preparations now.”
He called a waiter, and ordered a cup of coffee and writing materials.
“You see,” said he, while they were waiting to be served, “we must try to get at Laurence without Tremorel’s knowing it. We must have a ten minutes’ talk with her alone, and in the house. That is a condition absolutely necessary to our success.”
M. Plantat had evidently been expecting some immediate and decisive action, for M. Lecoq’s remark filled him with alarm.
“If that’s so,” said he mournfully, “it’s all over with our project.”
“How so?”
“Because Tremorel will not leave Laurence by herself for a moment.”
“Then I’ll try to entice him out.”
“And you, you who are usually so clear-sighted, really think that he will let himself be taken in by a trick! You don’t consider his situation at this moment. He must be a prey to boundless terrors. We know that Sauvresy’s declaration will not be found, but he does not; he thinks that perhaps it has been found, that suspicions have been aroused, and that he is already being searched for and pursued by the police.”
“I’ve considered all that,” responded M. Lecoq with a triumphant smile, “and many other things besides. Well, it isn’t easy to decoy Tremorel out of the house. I’ve been cudgelling my brain about it a good deal, and have found a way at last. The idea occurred to me just as we were coming in here. The Count de Tremorel, in an hour from now, will be in the Faubourg St. Germain. It’s true it will cost me a forgery, but you will forgive me under the circumstances. Besides, he who seeks the end must use the means.”
He took up a pen, and as he smoked his cigar, rapidly wrote the following:
“Monsieur Wilson:
“Four of the thousand-franc notes which you paid me are counterfeits; I have just found it out by sending them to my banker’s. If you are not here to explain the matter before ten o’clock, I shall be obliged to put in a complaint this evening before the procureur.
“Rech.”
“Now,” said M. Lecoq, passing the letter to his companion. “Do you comprehend?”
The old justice read it at a glance and could not repress a joyful exclamation, which caused the waiters to turn around and stare at him.
“Yes,” said he, “this letter will catch him; it’ll frighten him out of all his other terrors. He will say to himself that he might have slipped some counterfeit notes among those paid to the upholsterer, that a complaint against him will provoke an inquiry, and that he will have to prove that he is really Monsieur Wilson or he is lost.”
“So you think he’ll come out?”
“I’m sure of it, unless he has become a fool.”
“I tell you we shall succeed then, for this is the only serious obstacle—”
He suddenly interrupted himself. The restaurant door opened ajar, and a man passed his head in and withdrew it immediately.
“That’s my man,” said M. Lecoq, calling the waiter to pay for the dinner, “he is waiting for us in the passage; let us go.”
A young man dressed like a journeyman upholsterer was standing in the passage looking in at the shop-windows. He had long brown locks, and his mustache and eyebrows were coal-black. M. Plantat certainly did not recognize him as Palot, but M. Lecoq did, and even seemed dissatisfied with his get-up.
“Bad,” growled he, “pitiable. Do you think it is enough, in order to disguise yourself, to change the color of your beard? Look in that glass, and tell me if the expression of your face is not just what it was before? Aren’t your eye and smile the same? Then your cap is too much on one side, it is not natural; and your hand is put in your pocket awkwardly.”
“I’ll try to do better another time, Monsieur Lecoq,” Palot modestly replied.
“I hope so; but I guess your porter won’t recognize you to-night, and that is all we want.”
“And now what must I do?”
“I’ll give you your orders; and be very careful not to blunder. First, hire a carriage, with a good horse; then go to the wine-shop for one of our men, who will accompany you to Monsieur Wilson’s house. When you get there ring, enter alone and give the porter this letter, saying that it is of the utmost importance. This done, put yourself with your companion in ambuscade before the house. If Monsieur Wilson goes out—and he will go out or I am not Lecoq —send your comrade to me at once. As for you, you will follow Monsieur Wilson and not lose sight of him. He will take a carriage, and you will follow him with yours, getting up on the hackman’s seat and keeping a lookout from there. Have your eyes open, for he is a rascal who may feel inclined to jump out of his cab and leave you in pursuit of an empty vehicle.”
“Yes, and the moment I am informed—”
“Silence, please, when I am speaking. He will probably go to the upholsterer’s in the Rue des Saints-Peres, but I may be mistaken. He may order himself to be carried to one of the railway stations, and may take the first train which leaves. In this case, you must get into the same railway carriage that he does, and follow him everywhere he goes; and be sure and send me a despatch as soon as you can.”
“Very
