I wouldn't like my worst
enemy to be subjected to such torture as this."
The prisoner's description of his sufferings did not seem at all
exaggerated. His hair was saturated with perspiration, and big drops of
sweat rested on his pallid brow, or coursed down his cheeks on to his
beard.
"I am not your enemy," said the magistrate more gently. "A magistrate is
neither a prisoner's friend nor enemy, he is simply the friend of truth
and the executor of the law. I am not seeking either for an innocent man
or for a culprit; I merely wish to arrive at the truth. I must know who
you are--and I do know--"
"Ah!--if the assertion costs me my life--I'm May and none other."
"No, you are not."
"Who am I then? Some great man in disguise? Ah! I wish I were! In that
case, I should have satisfactory papers to show you; and then you would
set me free, for you know very well, my good sir, that I am as innocent
as you are."
The magistrate had left his desk, and taken a seat by the fireplace
within a yard of the prisoner. "Do not insist," said he. Then, suddenly
changing both manner and tone, he added with the urbanity that a man of
the world displays when addressing an equal:
"Do me the honor, sir, to believe me gifted with sufficient perspicuity
to recognize, under the difficult part you play to such perfection, a
very superior gentleman--a man endowed with remarkable talents."
Lecoq perceived that this sudden change of manner had unnerved the
prisoner.
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