rom the
decisive moment he looked forward to seemed as it were a century; and he
resorted to every possible expedient to hasten the passing of the time.
At length, after giving precise instructions to Father Absinthe, he
retired to his loft for the night. The hours seemed interminable, and
such was his nervous excitement that he found it quite impossible to
sleep. On rising at daybreak he discovered that the prisoner was already
awake. May was sitting on the foot of his bed, apparently plunged in
thought. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and paced restlessly to and
fro. He was evidently in an unusually agitated frame of mind: for he
gesticulated wildly, and at intervals repeated: "What misery! My God!
what misery!"

"Ah! my fine fellow," thought Lecoq, "you are anxious about the daily
letter you failed to receive yesterday. Patience, patience! One of my
writing will soon arrive."

At last the young detective heard the stir usually preceding the
distribution of the food. People were running to and fro, sabots clicked
noisily in the corridors, and the keepers could be heard engaged in loud
conversation. By and by the prison bell began to toll. It was eleven
o'clock, and soon afterward the prisoner commenced to sing his favorite
song:

"Diogene! Sous ton manteau, libre et content--"

Before he commenced the third line the slight sound caused by the
fragment of bread as it fell upon the stone floor caused him to pause
abruptly.

Lecoq, at the opening in the ceiling above, was holding his breath
and watching with both eyes. He did not miss one of the prisoner's
movements--not so much as the quiver of an eyelid. May looked first at
the window, and then all round the cell, as if it were impossible for
him to explain the arrival of this projectile. It was not until some
little time had elapsed that he decided to pick it up. He held it in
the hollow of his hand, and examined it with apparent curiosity. His
features expressed intense surprise, and any one would have sworn that
he was innocent of all complicity. Soon a smile gathered round his lips,
and after a slight shrug of the shoulders, which might be interpreted,
"Am I a fool?" he hastily broke the pellet in half. The sight of the
paper which it contained seemed to amaze him.

"What does all this mean?" wondered Lecoq.

The prisoner had opened the note, and was examining with knitted brows
the figures which were apparently destitute of all meaning to him. Then,
sudde