“Still, never mind,” the young detective mentally exclaimed, “no one ever tastes perfect happiness here below.”
And concentrating all his thoughts on the task before him, he hurried on his way.
VII
When, after a rapid walk of twenty minutes, Lecoq reached the police station near the Barriere d’Italie, the doorkeeper, with his pipe in his mouth, was pacing slowly to and fro before the guard-house. His thoughtful air, and the anxious glances he cast every now and then toward one of the little grated windows of the building sufficed to indicate that some very rare bird indeed had been entrusted to his keeping. As soon as he recognized Lecoq, his brow cleared, and he paused in his promenade.
“Ah, well!” he inquired, “what news do you bring?”
“I have an order to conduct the prisoners to the prefecture.”
The keeper rubbed his hands, and his smile of satisfaction plainly implied that he felt a load the less on his shoulders.
“Capital! capital!” he exclaimed. “The Black Maria, the prison van, will pass here in less than an hour; we will throw them in, and hurry the driver off—”
Lecoq was obliged to interrupt the keeper’s transports of satisfaction. “Are the prisoners alone?” he inquired.