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?‰mile, 1836-1873

"Monsieur Lecoq"


Polyte listened with a nonchalant and even ironical air. In fact, this
indirect threat scarcely touched him. Having previously made inquiries
he had ascertained that he could not be condemned to more than six
months' imprisonment for the offense for which he had been arrested; and
what did a month more or less matter to him?
The magistrate, who read this thought in Polyte's eyes, cut his preamble
short. "Justice," said he, "now requires some information from you
concerning the frequenters of your mother's establishment."
"There are a great many of them, sir," answered Polyte in a harsh voice.
"Do you know one of them named Gustave?"
"No, sir."
To insist would probably awaken suspicion in Polyte's mind; accordingly,
M. Segmuller continued: "You must, however, remember Lacheneur?"
"Lacheneur? No, this is the first time I've heard that name."
"Take care. The police have means of finding out a great many things."
The scapegrace did not flinch. "I am telling the truth, sir," he
retorted. "What interest could I possibly have in deceiving you?"
Scarcely had he finished speaking than the door suddenly opened and
Toinon the Virtuous entered the room, carrying her child in her arms.
On perceiving her husband, she uttered a joyful exclamation, and sprang
toward him. But Polyte, stepping back, gave her such a threatening
glance that she remained rooted to the spot.
"It must be an enemy who pretends that I know any one named Lacheneur!"
cried the barriere bully.


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