“See here,” said he to Guespin, “I took you for a young man of sense, and you are only an ass.  Do you imagine that we don’t know anything?  Listen:  On the night of Madame Denis’s wedding, you were getting ready to go off with your comrades, and had just borrowed twenty francs from the valet, when the count called you.  He made you promise absolute secrecy (a promise which, to do you justice, you kept); he told you to leave the other servants at the station and go to Vulcan’s Forges, where you were to buy for him a hammer, a file, a chisel, and a dirk; these you were to carry to a certain woman.  Then he gave you this famous five-hundred-franc note, telling you to bring him back the change when you returned next day.  Isn’t that so?”

An affirmative response glistened in the prisoner’s eyes; still, he answered, “I don’t recollect it.”

“Now,” pursued M. Lecoq, “I’m going to tell you what happened afterwards.  You drank something and got tipsy, and in short spent a part of the change of the note.  That explains your fright when you were seized yesterday morning, before anybody said a word to you.  You thought you were being arrested for spending that money.  Then, when you learned that the count had been murdered during the night, recollecting that on the evening before you had bought all kinds of instruments of theft and murder, and that you didn’t know either the address or the name of the woman to whom you gave up the package, convinced that if you explained the source of the money found in your pocket, you would not be believed—­then, instead of thinking of the means to prove your innocence, you became afraid, and thought you would save yourself by holding your tongue.”

The prisoner’s countenance visibly changed; his nerves relaxed; his tight lips fell apart; his mind opened itself to hope.  But he still resisted.

“Do with me as you like,” said he.

“Eh!  What should we do with such a fool as you?” cried M. Lecoq angrily.  “I begin to think you are a rascal too.  A decent fellow would see that we wanted to get him out of a scrape, and he’d tell us the truth.  You are prolonging your imprisonment by your own will.  You’d better learn that the greatest shrewdness consists in telling the truth.  A last time, will you answer?”

Guespin shook his head; no.

“Go back to prison, then; since it pleases you,” concluded the detective.  He looked at the judge for his approval, and added: 

“Gendarmes, remove the prisoner.”

The judge’s last doubt was dissipated like the mist before the sun.  He was, to tell the truth, a little uneasy at having treated the detective so rudely; and he tried to repair it as much as he could.

“You are an able man, Monsieur Lecoq,” said he.  “Without speaking of your clearsightedness, which is so prompt as to seem almost like second sight, your examination just now was a master-piece of its kind.  Receive my congratulations, to say nothing of the reward which I propose to recommend in your favor to your chiefs.”