eir head, and long for hope so blindly that they believe
anything; indeed, there is nothing too absurd for them to accept it. An
instance will suffice to show how far the simplicity of a criminal
who has been _nabbed_ will carry him. Bibi-Lupin, not long before, had
extracted a confession from a murderer of nineteen by making him believe
that no one under age was ever executed. When this lad was transferred
to the Conciergerie to be sentenced after the rejection of his appeal,
this terrible man came to see him.

"Are you sure you are not yet twenty?" said he.

"Yes, I am only nineteen and a half."

"Well, then," replied Bibi-Lupin, "you may be quite sure of one
thing--you will never see twenty."

"Why?"

"Because you will be scragged within three days," replied the police
agent.

The murderer, who had believed, even after sentence was passed, that a
minor would never be executed, collapsed like an omelette soufflee.

Such men, cruel only from the necessity for suppressive evidence,
for they murder only to get rid of witnesses (and this is one of
the arguments adduced by those who desire the abrogation of capital
punishment),--these giants of dexterity and skill, whose sleight of
hand, whose rapid sight, whose every sense is as alert as that of a
savage, are heroes of evil only on the stage of their exploits. Not only
do their difficulties begin as soon as the crime is committed, for they
are as much bewildered by the need for concealing the stolen goods as
they were depressed by necessity--but they are as weak as a woman in
childbed. The vehemence of their schemes is terrific; in success they
become like children. In a word, their nature is that of the wild
beast--easy to kill when it is full fed. In prison these strange beings
are men in dissimulation and in secretiveness, which never yields till
the last moment, when they are crushed and broken by the tedium of
imprisonment.

It may hence be understood how it was that the three convicts, instead
of betraying their chief, were eager to serve him; and as they suspected
he was now the owner of the stolen seven hundred and fifty thousand
francs, they admired him for his calm resignation, under bolt and bar of
the Conciergerie, believing him capable of protecting them all.

When Monsieur Gault left the sham priest, he returned through the parlor
to his office, and went in search of Bibi-Lupin, who for twenty minutes,
since Jacques Collin had gone downstairs,