“Let us proceed,” he said to Polyte, who had not moved since his wife had been taken from the room, being to all appearances sublimely indifferent to everything passing around him.  To the magistrate’s proposal he carelessly nodded assent.

“Was that your wife who came in just now?” asked M. Segmuller.

“Yes.”

“She wished to embrace you, and you repulsed her.”

“I didn’t repulse her.”

“You kept her at a distance at all events.  If you had a spark of affection in your nature, you would at least have looked at your child, which she held out to you.  Why did you behave in that manner?”

“It wasn’t the time for sentiment.”

“You are not telling the truth.  You simply desired to attract her attention, to influence her evidence.”

“I—­I influence her evidence!  I don’t understand you.”

“But for that supposition, your words would have been meaningless?”

“What words?”

The magistrate turned to his clerk:  “Goguet,” said he, “read the last remark you took down.”

In a monotonous voice, the smiling clerk repeated:  “I should like to kill the person who dared to say that I knew Lacheneur.”

“Well, then!” insisted M. Segmuller, “what did you mean by that?”

“It’s very easy to understand, sir.”

M. Segmuller rose.  “Don’t prevaricate any longer,” he said.  “You certainly ordered your wife not to say anything about Lacheneur.  That’s evident.  Why did you do so?  What are you afraid of her telling us?  Do you suppose the police are ignorant of your acquaintance with Lacheneur—­of your conversation with him when he came in a cab to the corner of the waste ground near your mother’s wine-shop; and of the hopes of fortune you based upon his promises?  Be guided by me; confess everything, while there is yet time; and abandon the present course which may lead you into serious danger.  One may be an accomplice in more ways than one.”

As these words fell on Polyte’s ears, it was evident his impudence and indifference had received a severe shock.  He seemed confounded, and hung his head as if thoroughly abashed.  Still, he preserved an obstinate silence; and the magistrate finding that this last thrust had failed to produce any effect, gave up the fight in despair.  He rang the bell, and ordered the guard to conduct the witness back to prison, and to take every precaution to prevent him seeing his wife again.

When Polyte had departed, Lecoq reentered the room.  “Ah, sir,” said he, despondently, “to think that I didn’t draw out of this woman everything she knew, when I might have done so easily.  But I thought you would be waiting for me, and made haste to bring her here.  I thought I was acting for the best—­”

“Never mind, the misfortune can be repaired.”

“No, sir, no.  Since she has seen her husband, it is quite impossible to get her to speak.  She loves that rascal intensely, and he has a wonderful influence over her.  You heard what he said.  He threatened her with death if she breathed a word about Lacheneur, and she is so terrified that there is no hope of making her speak.”