brought them to me, Monsieur le Juge."

"Give them to me!" He then added: "Is Monsieur Bernardet here?"

"Yes, Monsieur le Juge."

"Very well."

Jacques Dantin remembered the little man with whom he had talked in the
journey from the house of death to the tomb, where he had heard some one
call "Bernardet." He did not know at the time, but the name had struck
him. Why did his presence seem of so much importance to this Examining
Magistrate? And he looked, in his turn, at M. Ginory, who, a little
near-sighted, was bending his head, with its sandy hair, its bald
forehead, on which the veins stood out like cords, over his notes,
which had been brought to him. Interesting notes--important, without
doubt--for, visibly satisfied, M. Ginory allowed a word or two to escape
him: "Good! Yes--Yes--Fine! Ah! Ah!--Very good!" Then suddenly Dantin
saw Ginory raise his head and look at him--as the saying is--in the
white of the eyes. He waited a moment before speaking, and suddenly put
this question, thrust at Dantin like a knife-blow:

"Are you a gambler, as I find?"

The question made Jacques Dantin fairly bound from his chair. A gambler!
Why did this man ask him if he was a gambler? What had his habits, his
customs, his vices even, to do with this cause for which he had been
cited, to do with Rovere's murder?

"You are a gambler," continued the Examining Magistrate, casting from
time to time a keen glance toward his notes. "One of the inspectors of
gambling dens saw you lose at the Cercle des Publicistes 25,000 francs
in one night."

"It is possible; the only important point is that I paid them!" The
response was short, crisp, showing a little irritation and stupefaction.

"Assuredly," said the Judge. "But you have no fortune. You have recently
borrowed a considerable sum from the usurers in order to pay for some
losses at the Bourse."

Dantin became very pale, his lips quivered, and his hands trembled.
These signs of emotion did not escape the eyes of M. Ginory nor the
registrar's.

"Is it from your little notes that you have learned all that?" he
demanded.

"Certainly," M. Ginory replied. "We have been seeking for some hours for
accurate information concerning you; started a sort of diary or rough
draught of your biography. You are fond of pleasure. You are seen, in
spite of your age--I pray you to pardon me, there is no malice in the
remark: I am older than you--everywhere where is found the famous
Tout-Paris whic