"
"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.
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