and seemed about to
speak to him, then suddenly changed his mind, and sat down again.

In spite of his own troubles, Prosper could not help seeing that this
man kept his eyes fastened upon him. Did he know him? Vainly did he try
to recollect having met him before.

This man, treated with all the deference due to a chief, was no less a
personage than M. Lecoq, a celebrated member of the detective corps.

When the men who were searching Prosper were about to take off his
boots, saying that a knife might be concealed in them. M. Lecoq waved
them aside with an air of authority, and said:

"You have done enough."

He was obeyed. All the formalities being ended, the unfortunate cashier
was taken to a narrow cell; the heavily barred door was swung to and
locked upon him; he breathed freely; at last he was alone.

Yes, he believed himself to be alone. He was ignorant that a prison is
made of glass, that the accused is like a miserable insect under the
microscope of an entomologist. He knew not that the walls have stretched
ears and watchful eyes.

He was so sure of being alone that he at once gave vent to his
suppressed feelings, and, dropping his mask of impassibility, burst
into a flood of tears. His long-restrained anger now flashed out like a
smouldering fire.

In a paroxysm of rage he uttered imprecations and curses. He dashed
himself against the prison-walls like a wild beast in a cage.

Prosper Bertomy was not the man he appeared to be.

This haughty, correct gentleman had ardent passions and a fiery
temperament.

One day, when he was about twenty-four years of age, he had become
suddenly fired by ambition. While all of his desires were repressed,
imprisoned in his low estate, like an athlete in a strait-jacket, seeing
around him all these rich people with whom money assumed the place of
the wand in the fairy-tale, he envied their lot.

He studied the beginnings of these financial princes, and found that at
the starting-point they possessed far less than himself.

How, then, had they succeeded? By force of energy, industry, and
assurance.

He determined to imitate and excel them.

From this day, with a force of will much less rare than we think, he
imposed silence upon his instincts. He reformed not his morals, but his
manners; and so strictly did he conform to the rules of decorum, that
he was regarded as a model of propriety by those who knew him, and had
faith in his character; and his capabilities