He seemed to have become altogether a better fellow; more frank,
communicative, and submissive. He eagerly embraced every opportunity
to babble about his past, and over and over again did he recount the
adventures of the roving life he had led while in the employ of M.
Simpson, the showman. He had, of course, traveled a great deal; and
he remembered everything he had seen; possessing, moreover, an
inexhaustible fund of amusing stories, with which he entertained his
custodians. His manner and his words were so natural that head keepers
and subordinate turnkeys alike were quite willing to give credit to his
assertions.
The governor of the Depot alone remained unconvinced. He had declared
that this pretended buffoon must be some dangerous criminal who had
escaped from Cayenne, and who for this reason was determined to conceal
his antecedents. Such being this functionary's opinion, he tried every
means to substantiate it. Accordingly, during an entire fortnight,
May was submitted to the scrutiny of innumerable members of the police
force, to whom were added all the more notable private detectives of the
capital. No one recognized him, however, and although his photograph was
sent to all the prisons and police stations of the empire, not one of
the officials could recognize his features.
Other circumstances occurred, each of which had its influence, and one
and all of them speaking in the prisoner's favor. For instance, the
second bureau of the Prefecture de Police found positive traces of the
existence of a strolling artist, named Tringlot, who was probably the
man referred to in May's story.
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