"
A bucket of ice-water falling on M. Plantat's head could not have
surprised him more, or more disagreeably, than this speech.
"What!" stammered he, with an air of frank amazement, "do you, a
man of experience, who--"
Delighted with the success of his ruse, Lecoq could not keep his
countenance, and Plantat, who perceived that he had been caught in
the snare, laughed heartily. Not a word, however, was exchanged
between these two men, both subtle in the science of life, and
equally cunning in its mysteries. They quite understood each other.
"My worthy old buck," said the detective to himself, "you've got
something in your sack; only it's so big, so monstrous, that you
won't exhibit it, not for a cannon-ball. You wish your hand forced,
do you? Ve-ry well!"
"He's sly," thought M. Plantat. "He knows that I've got an idea;
he's trying to get at it--and I believe he will."
M. Lecoq had restored his lozenge-box to his pocket, as he always
did when he went seriously to work. His amour-propre was enlisted;
he played a part--and he was a rare comedian.
"Now," cried he, "let's to horse. According to the mayor's account,
the instrument with which all these things were broken has been
found.
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