“What happened then?”

“Oh!  I went in; called for some one.  A woman came downstairs, and I asked her for a glass of brandy.  When she brought it, I sat down and lighted a cigar.  Then I looked about me.  The interior was almost enough to frighten one.  Three men and two women were drinking and chatting in low tones at another table.  My face did not seem to suit them.  One of them got up, came toward me, and said:  ’You are a police agent; you’ve come here to play the spy; that’s very plain.’  I answered that I wasn’t a police agent.  He replied that I was.  I again declared that I wasn’t.  In short, he swore that he was sure of it, and that my beard was false.  So saying, he caught hold of my beard and pulled it.  This made me mad.  I jumped up, and with a blow of my fist I felled him to the ground.  In an instant all the others were upon me!  I had my revolver—­you know the rest.”

“And while all this was going on what were the two women doing?”

“Ah!  I was too busy to pay any attention to them.  They disappeared!”

“But you saw them when you entered the place—­what were they like?”

“Oh! they were big, ugly creatures, as tall as grenadiers, and as dark as moles!”

Between plausible falsehood, and improbable truth, justice—­human justice, and therefore liable to error—­is compelled to decide as best it can.  For the past hour M. Segmuller had not been free from mental disquietude.  But all his doubts vanished when he heard the prisoner declare that the two women were tall and dark.  If he had said:  “The women were fair,” M. Segmuller would not have known what to believe, but in the magistrate’s opinion the audacious falsehood he had just heard proved that there was a perfect understanding between the supposed murderer and Widow Chupin.

Certainly, M. Segmuller’s satisfaction was great; but his face did not betray it.  It was of the utmost importance that the prisoner should believe that he had succeeded in deceiving his examiner.  “You must understand how necessary it is to find these women,” said the magistrate kindly.

“If their testimony corresponds with your allegations, your innocence will be proved conclusively.”

“Yes, I understand that; but how can I put my hand upon them?”

“The police can assist you—­our agents are always at the service of prisoners who desire to make use of them in establishing their innocence.  Did you make any observations which might aid in the discovery of these women?”

Lecoq, whose eyes never wandered from the prisoner’s face, fancied that he saw the faint shadow of a smile on the man’s lips.

“I remarked nothing,” said the prisoner coldly.

M. Segmuller had opened the drawer of his desk a moment before.  He now drew from it the earring which had been found on the scene of the tragedy, and handing it abruptly to the prisoner, he asked:  “So you didn’t notice this in the ear of one of the women?”