As he spoke, the murderer extended his arm toward Lecoq, and then, in a tone of crushing scorn, he added:  “A man must have great confidence in himself, or a wild longing for advancement, to try and get a man guillotined on such evidence as that!”

At these words, Goguet, the smiling clerk, whose pen was rapidly flying across the paper, could not help remarking to himself:  “The arrow has entered the bull’s-eye this time!”

The comment was not without foundation:  for Lecoq was evidently cut to the quick.  Indeed, he was so incensed that, forgetful of his subordinate position, he sprang to his feet, exclaiming:  “This circumstance would be of slight importance if it were not one of a long chain—­”

“Be good enough to keep silent,” interrupted the magistrate, who, turning to the prisoner, added:  “The court does not utilize the proofs and testimony collected by the police until it has examined and weighed them.”

“No matter,” murmured the prisoner.  “I should like to see this cab-driver.”

“Have no fear about that; he shall repeat his evidence in your presence.”

“Very well.  I am satisfied then.  I will ask him how he can distinguish people’s faces when it is as dark as—­”

He checked himself, apparently enlightened by a sudden inspiration.

“How stupid I am!” he exclaimed.  “I’m losing my temper about these people when you know all the while who they are.  For of course the cabmen drove them home.”

M. Segmuller saw that the prisoner understood him.  He perceived, moreover, that the latter was doing all he could to increase the mystery that enshrouded this essential point of the case—­a point upon which the prosecution was particularly anxious to obtain information.

The prisoner was truly an incomparable comedian, for his last observation was made in a tone of remarkable candor, just tinged with sufficient irony to show that he felt he had nothing to fear in this direction.

“If you are consistent with yourself,” remarked the magistrate, “you will also deny the existence of an accomplice, of a—­comrade.”

“What would be the use denying it, since you believe nothing that I say?  Only a moment ago you insinuated that my former employer was an imaginary personage; so what need I say about my pretended accomplice?  According to your agents, he’s at all events a most faithful friend.  Indeed, this wonderful being—­invented by Monsieur” (with these words the prisoner pointed to Lecoq)—­“was seemingly not satisfied at having once escaped the police, for, according to your account, he voluntarily placed himself in their clutches a second time.  You gentlemen pretend that he conferred first of all with me, and next with the Widow Chupin.  How did that happen?  Perhaps after removing him from my cell, some of your agents obligingly shut him up with the old woman.”

Goguet, the clerk, wrote all this down admiringly.  “Here,” thought he, “is a man of brain, who understands his case.  He won’t need any lawyer’s eloquence to put his defense favorably before a jury.”