oes not say he is innocent.

"Whereas there do not exist sufficient charges against the accused,
Prosper Bertomy, in pursuance of Article 128 of the Criminal Code,
we hereby declare that we find no grounds for prosecution against the
aforesaid prisoner at this present time; and we order that he shall be
released from the prison where he is confined, and set at liberty by the
jailer," etc.

"Well," he said to the clerk, "here is another one of those crimes
which justice cannot clear up. The mystery remains to be solved. This is
another file to be stowed away among the archives of the record-office."

And with his own hand he wrote on the cover of the bundle of papers
relating to Prosper's case, the number of the package, File No. 113.

VII

Prosper had been languishing in his private cell for nine days, when on
Thursday morning the jailer came to inform him of the judge's decision.
He was conducted before the officer who had searched him when he was
arrested; and the contents of his pocket, his watch, penknife, and
several little pieces of jewelry, were restored to him; then he was told
to sign a large sheet of paper, which he did.

He was next led across a dark passage, and almost pushed through a door,
which was abruptly shut upon him.

He found himself on the quay: he was alone; he was free.

Free! Justice had confessed her inability to convict him of the crime of
which he was accused.

Free! He could walk about, he could breathe the pure air; but every door
would be closed against him.

Only acquittal after due trial would restore him to his former position
among men.

A decision of "Not proven" had left him covered with suspicion.

The torments inflicted by public opinion are more fearful than those
suffered in a prison cell.

At the moment of his restoration to liberty, Prosper so cruelly suffered
from the horror of his situation, that he could not repress a cry of
rage and despair.

"I am innocent! God knows I am innocent!" he cried out. But of what use
was his anger?

Two strangers, who were passing, stopped to look at him, and said,
pityingly, "He is crazy."

The Seine was at his feet. A thought of suicide crossed his mind.

"No," he said, "no! I have not even the right to kill myself. No: I will
not die until I have vindicated my innocence!"

Often, day and night, had Prosper repeated these words, as he walked
his cell. With a heart filled with a bitter, determined thirst for
venge