air of
a vagabond, a dirty blouse.'--'It is true,'" said my father, "'that this
description could apply to Putois.'--'You see! Besides, I called him. I
cried: "Putois!" and he turned around.'--'That is the method,' said
my father, 'that they employ to assure themselves of the identity of
evil-doers that they are hunting for.'--'I told you that it was he! I
know how to find him, your Putois. Very well! He has a bad face. You
had been very careless, you and your wife, to employ him. I understand
physiognomy, and though I only saw his back, I could swear that he is a
robber, and perhaps an assassin. The rims of his ears are flat, and that
is a sign that never fails.'--'Ah! you noticed that the rims of his ears
were flat?'--'Nothing escapes me. My dear Monsieur Bergeret, if you do
not wish to be assassinated with your wife and your children, do not let
Putois come into your house again. Take my advice: have all your
locks changed.'--Well, a few days afterward, it happened that Madame
Cornouiller had three melons stolen from her vegetable garden. The
robber not having been found, she suspected Putois. The gendarmes were
called to Montplaisir, and their report confirmed the suspicions of
Madame Cornouiller. Bands of marauders were ravaging the gardens of the
countryside. But this time the robbery seemed to have been committed by
one man, and with singular dexterity. No trace of anything broken, no
footprints in the damp earth. The robber could be no one but Putois.
That was the opinion of the corporal, who knew all about Putois, and
had tried hard to put his hand on that bird. The 'Journal of Saint-Omer'
devoted an article to the three melons of Madame Cornouiller, and
published a portrait of Putois from descriptions furnished by the town.
'He has,' said the paper, 'a low forehead, squinting eyes, a shifty
glance, crow's-feet, sharp cheek-bones, red and shining. No rims to
the ears. Thin, somewhat bent, feeble in appearance, in reality he is
unusually strong. He easily bends a five-franc piece between the first
finger and the thumb.' There were good reasons for attributing to him a
long series of robberies committed with surprising dexterity. The whole
town was talking of Putois. One day it was learned that he had been
arrested and locked up in prison. But it was soon recognized that the
man that had been taken for him was an almanac seller named Rigobert. As
no charge could be brought against him, he was discharged after four