When Lucien’s body was lowered into the grave, Jacques Collin fell in a dead faint. This strong man could not endure the light rattle of the spadefuls of earth thrown by the gravediggers on the coffin as a hint for their payment.
Just then two men of the corps of Public Safety came up; they recognized Jacques Collin, lifted him up, and carried him to a hackney coach.
“What is up now?” asked Jacques Collin when he recovered consciousness and had looked about him.
He saw himself between two constables, one of whom was Ruffard; and he gave him a look which pierced the murderer’s soul to the very depths of la Gonore’s secret.
“Why, the public prosecutor wants you,” replied Ruffard, “and we have been hunting for you everywhere, and found you in the cemetery, where you had nearly taken a header into that boy’s grave.”
Jacques Collin was silent for a moment.
“Is it Bibi-Lupin that is after me?” he asked the other man.
“No. Monsieur Garnery sent us to find you.”
“And he told you nothing?”
The two men looked at each other, holding council in expressive pantomime.