"It is a drawn game monsieur," replied Gevrol. "We are baffled for the
present. The miscreant has taken his measures with great precaution;
but I will catch him. Before night, I shall have a dozen men in pursuit.
Besides, he is sure to fall into our hands. He has carried off the plate
and the jewels. He is lost!"
"Despite all that," said M. Daburon, "we are no further advanced than we
were this morning!"
"Well!" growled Gevrol. "A man can only do what he can!"
"Ah!" murmured Lecoq in a low tone, perfectly audible, however, "why is
not old Tirauclair here?"
"What could he do more than we have done?" retorted Gevrol, directing a
furious glance at his subordinate. Lecoq bowed his head and was silent,
inwardly delighted at having wounded his chief.
"Who is old Tirauclair?" asked M. Daburon. "It seems to me that I have
heard the name, but I can't remember where."
"He is an extraordinary man!" exclaimed Lecoq. "He was formerly a clerk
at the Mont de Piete," added Gevrol; "but he is now a rich old fellow,
whose real name is Tabaret. He goes in for playing the detective by way
of amusement."
"And to augment his revenues," insinuated the commissary.
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