“And it was a very wise conclusion. With that idea in your lantern to light your path, you ought to have gone straight to the truth. But you are young, as I said before; and the very first circumstance you find that seems at all probable you quite forget the rule which, as you yourself admit, should have governed your conduct. As soon as you meet a fact that seems even more than probable, you swallow it as eagerly as a gudgeon swallows an angler’s bait.”
This comparison could but pique the young detective. “I don’t think I’ve been so simple as that,” protested he.
“Bah! What did you think, then, when you heard that M. d’Escorval had broken his leg in getting out of his carriage?”
“Believe! I believed what they told me, because—” He paused, and Tirauclair burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
“You believed it,” he said, “because it was a very plausible story.”
“What would you have believed had you been in my place?”
“Exactly the opposite of what they told me. I might have been mistaken; but it would be the logical conclusion as my first course of reasoning.”
This conclusion was so bold that Lecoq was disconcerted. “What!” he exclaimed; “do you suppose that M. d’Escorval’s fall was only a fiction? that he didn’t break his leg?”
Old Tabaret’s face suddenly assumed a serious expression. “I don’t suppose it,” he replied; “I’m sure of it.”