s necessary to prove your innocence."

"What must I do to prove it?"

"Tell the truth, the whole truth: answer my questions honestly without
reserve."

"As for that, you may depend upon me." As he spoke the prisoner lifted
his hand, as if to call upon God to witness his sincerity.

But M. Segmuller immediately intervened: "Prisoners do not take the
oath," said he.

"Indeed!" ejaculated the man with an astonished air, "that's strange!"

Although the magistrate had apparently paid but little attention to the
prisoner, he had in point of fact carefully noted his attitude, his tone
of voice, his looks and gestures. M. Segmuller had, moreover, done
his utmost to set the culprit's mind at ease, to quiet all possible
suspicion of a trap, and his inspection of the prisoner's person led him
to believe that this result had been attained.

"Now," said he, "you will give me your attention; and do not forget that
your liberty depends upon your frankness. What is your name?"

"May."

"What is your Christian name?"

"I have none."

"That is impossible."

"I have been told that already three times since yesterday," rejoined
the prisoner impatiently. "And yet it's the truth. If I were a liar, I
could easily tell you that my name was Peter, James, or John. But
lying is not in my line. Really, I have no Christian name. If it were a
question of surnames, it would be quite another thing. I have had plenty
of them."

"What were they?"

"Let me see--to commence with, when I was with Father Fougasse, I was
called Affiloir, because you see--"

"Who was this Father Fougasse?"

"The great wild beast tamer, sir. Ah! he could boast of a menagerie
and no mistake! Lions, tigers, and bears, serpents as big round as your
thigh, parrakeets of every color under the sun. Ah! it was a wonderful
collection. But unfortunately--"

Was the man jesting, or was he in earnest? It was so hard to decide,
that M. Segmuller and Lecoq were equally in doubt. As for Goguet, the
smiling clerk, he chuckled to himself as his pen ran over the paper.

"Enough," interrupted the magistrate. "How old are you?"

"Forty-four or forty-five years of age."

"Where were you born?"

"In Brittany, probably."

M. Segmuller thought he could detect a hidden vein of irony in this
reply.

"I warn you," said he, severely, "that if you go on in this way your
chances of recovering your liberty will be greatly compromised. Each of
your answers is a breach of prop