“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!”