tly stark mad the day when he first had the idea of seeking
employment in the Rue de Jerusalem. A noble hobby, truly, for a man of
his age, a good quiet citizen of Paris, rich, and esteemed by all! And
to think that he had been proud of his exploits, that he had boasted of
his cunning, that he had plumed himself on his keenness of scent, that
he had been flattered by that ridiculous sobriquet, "Tirauclair." Old
fool! What could he hope to gain from that bloodhound calling? All sorts
of annoyance, the contempt of the world, without counting the danger of
contributing to the conviction of an innocent man. Why had he not taken
warning by the little tailor's case.

Recalling his few satisfactions of the past, and comparing them with his
present anguish, he resolved that he would have no more to do with it.
Albert once saved, he would seek some less dangerous amusement, and one
more generally appreciated. He would break the connection of which he
was ashamed, and the police and justice might get on the best they could
without him.

At last the day, which he had awaited with feverish impatience, dawned.
To pass the time, he dressed himself slowly, with much care, trying to
occupy his mind with needless details, and to deceive himself as to the
time by looking constantly at the clock, to see if it had not stopped.
In spite of all this delay, it was not eight o'clock when he presented
himself at the magistrate's house, begging him to excuse, on account of
the importance of his business, a visit too early not to be indiscreet.

Excuses were superfluous. M. Daburon was never disturbed by a call at
eight o'clock in the morning. He was already at work. He received the
old amateur detective with his usual kindness, and even joked with him
a little about his excitement of the previous evening. Who would have
thought his nerves were so sensitive? Doubtless the night had brought
deliberation. Had he recovered his reason? or had he put his hand on the
true criminal?

This trifling tone in a magistrate, who was accused of being grave
even to a fault, troubled the old man. Did not this quizzing hide a
determination not to be influenced by anything that he could say?
He believed it did; and it was without the least deception that he
commenced his pleading.

He put the case more calmly this time, but with all the energy of a
well-digested conviction. He had appealed to the heart, he now appealed
to reason; but, although doubt is essent