"Here are your hundred and thirty-six francs and eight sous," said he,
"and also your knife, your handkerchief, and four cigars."

An expression of lively contentment was discernible on the prisoner's
features.

"Now," resumed the clerk, "will you answer?"

But the governor perceived the futility of further questioning; and
silencing the clerk by a gesture, he told the prisoner to take off his
boots.

Lecoq thought the assassin's glance wavered as he heard this order. Was
it only a fancy?

"Why must I do that?" asked the culprit.

"To pass under the beam," replied the clerk. "We must make a note of
your exact height."

The prisoner made no reply, but sat down and drew off his heavy boots.
The heel of the right one was worn down on the inside. It was, moreover,
noticed that the prisoner wore no socks, and that his feet were coated
with mud.

"You only wear boots on Sundays, then?" remarked Lecoq.

"Why do you think that?"

"By the mud with which your feet are covered, as high as the