[Illustration:  “‘No nonsense, or you’ll break your arm.’”]

The prisoner had not spoken a word; now he flashed at Coquenil a look of withering contempt that the detective long remembered, and, leaning close, he whispered:  “You poor fool!”

CHAPTER XXIII

GROENER AT BAY

Two hours later (it was nearly seven) Judge Hauteville sat in his office at the Palais de Justice, hurrying through a meal that had been brought in from a restaurant.

“There,” he muttered, wiping his mouth, “that will keep me going for a few hours,” and he touched the bell.

“Is M. Coquenil back yet?” he asked when the clerk appeared.

“Yes, sir,” replied the latter, “he’s waiting.”

“Good!  I’ll see him.”

The clerk withdrew and presently ushered in the detective.

“Sit down,” motioned the judge.  “Coquenil, I’ve done a hard day’s work and I’m tired, but I’m going to examine this man of yours to-night.”

“I’m glad of that,” said M. Paul, “I think it’s important.”

“Important?  Humph!  The morning would do just as well—­however, we’ll let that go.  Remember, you have no standing in this case.  The work has been done by Tignol, the warrant was served by Tignol, and the witnesses have been summoned by Tignol.  Is that understood?”

“Of course.”

“That is my official attitude,” smiled Hauteville, unbending a little; “I needn’t add that, between ourselves, I appreciate what you have done, and if this affair turns out as I hope it will, I shall do my best to have your services properly recognized.”

Coquenil bowed.

“Now then,” continued the judge, “have you got the witnesses?”

“They are all here except Father Anselm.  He has been called to the bedside of a dying woman, but we have his signed statement that he had nothing to do with the girl’s escape.”

“Of course not, we knew that, anyway.  And the girl?”

“I went for her myself.  She is outside.”

“And the prisoner?”

“He’s in another room under guard.  I thought it best he shouldn’t see the witnesses.”

“Quite right.  He’d better not see them when he comes through the outer office.  You attend to that.”

“Bien!”

“Is there anything else before I send for him?  Oh, the things he wore?  Did you find them?”

The detective nodded.  “We found that he has a room on the fifth floor, over Madam Cecile’s.  He keeps it by the year.  He made his change there, and we found everything that he took off—­the wig, the beard, and the rough clothes.”

The judge rubbed his hands.  “Capital!  Capital!  It’s a great coup.  We may as well begin.  I want you to be present, Coquenil, at the examination.”

“Ah, that’s kind of you!” exclaimed M. Paul.

“Not kind at all, you’ll be of great service.  Get those witnesses out of sight and then bring in the man.”