er had no daughter, and no trace
is to be found of the transference of Mme. Thiboust to Caen. The other
version is no more admissible. Scarcely out of the Temple, we are
assured, the outlaw would not have been able to resist the desire to see
his son, and would have sent to beg Mme. Thiboust--by whom again?--to
bring him to the Passage des Panoramas. Naturally the police would
follow the woman and child, and Le Chevalier be taken in their arms. It
is difficult to imagine so sharp a man setting such a childish trap for
himself, even if his adventurous life had not accustomed him for a long
time to live apart from his family.

The truth is certainly far otherwise. It is necessary, first of all, to
know who let Le Chevalier out of prison. Mme. de Noel, one of his
relations, said later, that "they had offered employment to the prisoner
if he would denounce his accomplice," which offer he haughtily refused.
As his presence was embarrassing, his gaolers were ordered "to let him
go out on parole in the hope that he would not come back," and could
then be condemned for escaping. Le Chevalier profited by the favour, but
returned at the appointed time. This toleration was not at all
surprising in this strange prison, the theatre of so many adventures
that will always remain mysteries. Desmarets tells how the concierge
Boniface allowed an important prisoner, Sir Sidney Smith, to leave the
Temple, "to walk, take baths, dine in town, and even go out hunting;"
the commodore never failed to return to sleep in his cell, and "took
back his parole in reentering."

It was necessary then, for some one to undertake to get Le Chevalier out
of the Temple, as he would not break his parole when he was outside; and
this explains the simulated escape. What cannot be established,
unfortunately, is the part taken by Fouche and Real. Were they the
instigators or the dupes? Did they esteem it better to feign ignorance,
or was it in reality the act of subalterns working unknown to their
chiefs? In any case, no one for a moment believed in the wall two yards
thick bored through in one night by the aid of a fork, any more than in
the rope-ladder made from a pair of nankeen breeches. Real, in revenge,
dismissed the concierge of the prison, put the gaoler Savard in irons,
and exacted a report on "all the circumstances that could throw any
light on the acquaintances the prisoner must have had in the prison to
facilitate his escape."

It seems very proba