XXII
It was six o’clock, and the dawn was just breaking when Father Absinthe and his companion reached the station-house, where they found the superintendent seated at a small table, making out his report. He did not move when they entered, failing to recognize them under their disguises. But when they mentioned their names, he rose with evident cordiality, and held out his hand.
“Upon my word!” said he, “I congratulate you on your capture last night.”
Father Absinthe and Lecoq exchanged an anxious look. “What capture?” they both asked in a breath.
“Why, that individual you sent me last night so carefully bound.”
“Well, what about him?”
The superintendent burst into a hearty laugh. “So you are ignorant of your good fortune,” said he. “Ah! luck has favored you, and you will receive a handsome reward.”
“Pray tell us what we’ve captured?” asked Father Absinthe, impatiently.
“A scoundrel of the deepest dye, an escaped convict, who has been missing for three months. You must have a description of him in your pocket—Joseph Couturier, in short.”