The prisoner’s imperturbable coolness of demeanor did not forsake him.  He took the jewel in his hand, examined it attentively, held it up to the light, admired its brilliant scintillations, and said:  “It is a very handsome stone, but I didn’t notice it.”

“This stone,” remarked the magistrate, “is a diamond.”

“Ah!”

“Yes; and worth several thousand francs.”

“So much as that!”

This exclamation may have been in accordance with the spirit of the part assumed by the prisoner; though, at the same time, its simplicity was undoubtedly far-fetched.  It was strange that a nomad, such as the murderer pretended to have been, acquainted with most of the countries and capitals of Europe, should have displayed this astonishment on learning the value of a diamond.  Still, M. Segmuller did not seem to notice the discrepancy.

“Another thing,” said he.  “When you threw down your pistol, crying, ‘Come and take me,’ what did you intend to do?”

“I intended to make my escape.”

“In what way?”

“Why, of course, by the door, sir—­by—­”

“Yes, by the back door,” retorted the magistrate, with freezing irony.  “It remains for you to explain how you—­you who had just entered that hovel for the first time—­could have known of this door’s existence.”

For once, in the course of the examination, the prisoner seemed troubled.  For an instant all his assurance forsook him.  He evidently perceived the danger of his position, and after a considerable effort he contrived to burst out in a laugh.  His laugh was a poor one, however; it rang false, and failed to conceal a sensation of deep anxiety.  Growing gradually bolder, he at length exclaimed:  “That’s nonsense, I had just seen these two women go out by that very door.”

“Excuse me, you declared a minute ago that you did not see these women leave:  that you were too busy to watch their movements.”

“Did I say that?”

“Word for word; the passage shall be shown you.  Goguet, find it.”

The clerk at once read the passage referred to, whereupon the prisoner undertook to show that the remark had been misunderstood.  He had not said—­at least, he did not intend to say—­that; they had quite misinterpreted his words.  With such remarks did he try to palliate the effect of his apparent blunders.

In the mean while, Lecoq was jubilant.  “Ah, my fine fellow,” thought he, “you are contradicting yourself—­you are in deep water already—­you are lost.  There’s no hope for you.”

The prisoner’s situation was indeed not unlike that of a bather, who, unable to swim, imprudently advances into the sea until the water rises above his chin.  He may for a while have preserved his equilibrium, despite the buffeting of the waves, but now he totters, loses his footing—­another second, and he will sink!

“Enough—­enough!” said the magistrate, cutting the prisoner’s embarrassed explanation short.  “Now, if you started out merely with the intention of amusing yourself, how did it happen that you took your revolver with you?”