The avocat, happily, was fertile in suggestions.  This, he said, was not a case for a witness.  Here was no question of appearing before a court.  With the foregone offences of either Lenoir or Bras de Fer, we had nothing to do; and to convict them of such offences formed no part of our plan.  We only sought to show that Lenoir and Bras de Fer were in truth “one and the same person,” and we could only do so upon the authority of some third party who had seen both.  Now Monsieur Mueller had seen Lenoir, but not Bras de Fer; and Guichet had seen Bras de Fer, but not Lenoir.  Here, then, was the real difficulty; and here, he hoped, its obvious solution.  Let Guichet be taken to some place where, being himself unseen, he may obtain a glimpse of Lenoir.  This done, he can, in a private interview of two minutes, state his conviction to Monsieur the Chef de Bureau—­voila tout!  If, however, the said Guichet can be persuaded by no considerations either of interest or justice, then another very simple course remains open.  Every newly-arrived convict in every penal establishment throughout France is photographed on his entrance into the Bagne, and these photographs are duly preserved for purposes of identification like the present.  Supposing therefore Bras de Fer had not escaped from Toulon before the introduction of this system, his portrait would exist in the official books to this day, and might doubtless be obtained, if proper application were made through an official channel.

Armed with this information, and knowing that any attempt to induce Guichet to move further in the matter would be useless, we then went back to the Bureau, and with much difficulty succeeded in persuading M. le Chef to send to Toulon for the photograph.  This done, we could only wait and be patient.

Briefly, then, we did wait and were patient—­though the last condition was not easy; for even I, who was by no means disposed to sympathize with Mueller in his solicitude for the fair Marie, could not but feel a strange contagion of excitement in this chasse au forcat.  And so a week or ten days went by, till one memorable afternoon, when Mueller came rushing round to my rooms in hot haste, about an hour before the time when we usually met to go to dinner, and greeted me with—­

“Good news, mon vieux! good news!  The photograph has come—­and I have been to the Bureau to see it—­and I have identified my man—­and he will be arrested to-night, as surely as that he carries T.F. on his shoulder!”

“You are certain he is the same?” I said.

“As certain as I am of my own face when I see it in the looking-glass.”

And then he went on to say that a party of soldiers were to be in readiness a couple of hours hence, in a shop commanding Madame Marot’s door; that he, Mueller, was to be there to watch with them till Lenoir either came out from or went into the house; and that as soon as he pointed him out to the sergeant in command, he was to be arrested, put into a cab waiting for the purpose, and conveyed to La Roquette.