t reasons--speak; your words will not be
taken down."

"Well, then," Jacques Collin went on, taken in by Camusot's apparent
goodwill, "I know what that poor boy is suffering at this moment; he is
capable of trying to kill himself when he finds himself a prisoner----"

"Oh! as to that!" said Camusot with a shrug.

"You do not know whom you will oblige by obliging me," added Jacques
Collin, trying to harp on another string. "You will be doing a service
to others more powerful than any Comtesse de Serizy or Duchesse de
Maufrigneuse, who will never forgive you for having had their letters in
your chambers----" and he pointed to two packets of perfumed papers. "My
Order has a good memory."

"Monsieur," said Camusot, "that is enough. You must find better reasons
to give me. I am as much interested in the prisoner as in public
vengeance."

"Believe me, then, I know Lucien; he has a soul of a woman, of a poet,
and a southerner, without persistency or will," said Jacques Collin, who
fancied that he saw that he had won the judge over. "You are convinced
of the young man's innocence, do not torture him, do not question him.
Give him that letter, tell him that he is Esther's heir, and restore him
to freedom. If you act otherwise, you will bring despair on yourself;
whereas, if you simply release him, I will explain to you--keep me still
in solitary confinement--to-morrow or this evening, everything that
may strike you as mysterious in the case, and the reasons for the
persecution of which I am the object. But it will be at the risk of my
life, a price has been set on my head these six years past.... Lucien
free, rich, and married to Clotilde de Grandlieu, and my task on earth
will be done; I shall no longer try to save my skin.--My persecutor was
a spy under your late King."

"What, Corentin?"

"Ah! Is his name Corentin? Thank you, monsieur. Well, will you promise
to do as I ask you?"

"A magistrate can make no promises.--Coquart, tell the usher and the
gendarmes to take the prisoner back to the Conciergerie.--I will give
orders that you are to have a private room," he added pleasantly, with a
slight nod to the convict.

Struck by Jacques Collin's request, and remembering how he had insisted
that he wished to be examined first as a privilege to his state of
health, Camusot's suspicions were aroused once more. Allowing his vague
doubts to make themselves heard, he noticed that the self-styled dying
man was walking off wi