se yourself," said the magistrate in a benevolent tone; "if you
are too weak to remain standing, take a seat."

Already, with a powerful effort, the man had recovered his
self-possession. A momentary gleam flashed from his eyes. "Many thanks
for your kindness," he replied, "but this is nothing. I felt a slight
sensation of dizziness, but it is over now."

"Is it long since you have eaten anything?"

"I have eaten nothing since that man"--and so saying he pointed to
Lecoq--"brought me some bread and wine at the station house."

"Wouldn't you like to take something?"

"No--and yet--if you would be so kind--I should like a glass of water."

"Will you not have some wine with it?"

"I should prefer pure water."

His request was at once complied with. He drained a first glassful at
a single draft; the glass was then replenished and he drank again, this
time, however, more slowly. One might have supposed that he was drinking
in life itself. Certainly, when he laid down the empty glass, he seemed
quite another man.

Eighteen out of every twenty criminals who appear before our
investigating magistrates come prepared with a more or less complete
plan of defense, which they have conceived during their preliminary
confinement. Innocent or guilty, they have resolved, on playing some
part or other, which they begin to act as soon as they cross the
threshold of the room where the magistrate awaits them.

The moment they enter his presence, the magistrate needs to bring all
his powers of penetration into play; for such a culprit's first attitude
as surely betrays his plan of defense as an index reveals a book's
contents. In this case, however, M. Segmuller did not think that
appearances were deceitful. It seemed evident to him that the prisoner
was not feigning, but that the excited frenzy which marked his entrance
was as real as his after stupor.

At all events, there seemed no fear of the danger the governor of the
Depot had spoken of, and accordingly M. Segmuller seated himself at his
desk. Here he felt stronger and more at ease for his back being turned
to the window, his face was half hidden in shadow; and in case of need,
he could, by bending over his papers, conceal any sign of surprise or
discomfiture.

The prisoner, on the contrary, stood in the full light, and not a
movement of his features, not the fluttering of an eyelid could escape
the magistrate's attention. He seemed to have completely recovered
from his