the other laughed harshly. "A lady would naturally tell the truth
in such a predicament, wouldn't she?"

At this the judge leaned over to Coquenil and, after some low words, he
spoke to the clerk who bowed and went out.

"You denied a moment ago," resumed the questioner, "that your name is
Groener. Also that you were disguised this afternoon as a wood carver. Do
you deny that you have a room, rented by the year, in the house where Madam
Cecile has her apartment? Ah, that went home!" he exclaimed. "You thought
we would overlook the little fifth-floor room, eh?"

"I know nothing about such a room," declared the other.

"I suppose you didn't go there to change your clothes before you called at
Madam Cecile's?"

"Certainly not."

"Call Jules," said Hauteville to the sleepy guard standing at the door, and
straightway the clerk reappeared with a large leather bag.

"Open it," directed the magistrate. "Spread the things on the table. Let
the prisoner look at them. Now then, my stubborn friend, what about these
garments? What about this wig and false beard?"

Groener rose wearily from his chair, walked deliberately to the table and
glanced at the exposed objects without betraying the slightest interest or
confusion.

"I've never seen these things before, I know nothing about them," he said.

"Name of a camel!" muttered Coquenil. "He's got his nerve with him all
right!"

The judge sat silent, playing with his lead pencil, then he folded a sheet
of paper and proceeded to mark it with a series of rough geometrical
patterns, afterwards going over them again, shading them carefully. Finally
he looked up and said quietly to the guard: "Take off his handcuffs."

The guard obeyed.

"Now take off his coat."

This was done also, the prisoner offering no resistance.

"Now his shirt," and the shirt was taken off.

"Now his boots and trousers."

All this was done, and a few moments later the accused stood in his socks
and underclothing. And still he made no protest.

Here M. Paul whispered to Hauteville, who nodded in assent.

"Certainly. Take off his garters and pull up his drawers. I want his legs
bare below the knees."

"It's an outrage!" cried Groener, for the first time showing feeling.

"Silence, sir!" glared the magistrate.

"You'll be bare _above_ the knees in the morning when your measurements are
taken." Then to the guard: "Do what I said."

Again the guard obeyed, and Coquenil stood by in eager watchfu