and of her grandson Toto, who had no one to look after them but her?

Still, when her name had been taken, and a keeper was ordered to remove
her, nature reasserted itself, and scarcely had she entered the corridor
than she was heard quarreling with the guard.

"You are wrong not to be polite," she said; "you are losing a good fee,
without counting many a good drink I would stand you when I get out of
here."

Lecoq was now free until M. d'Escorval's arrival. He wandered through
the gloomy corridors, from office to office, but finding himself
assailed with questions by every one he came across, he eventually left
the Depot, and went and sat down on one of the benches beside the quay.
Here he tried to collect his thoughts. His convictions were unchanged.
He was more than ever convinced that the prisoner was concealing his
real social standing, but, on the other hand, it was evident that he was
well acquainted with the prison and its usages.

He had also proved himself to be endowed with far more cleverness than
Lecoq had supposed. What self-control! What powers of dissimulation
he had displayed! He had not so much as frowned while undergoing the
severest ordeals, and he had managed to deceive the most experienced
eyes in Paris.

The young detective had waited during nearly three hours, as motionless
as the bench on which he was seated, and so absorbed in studying his
case that he had thought neither of the cold nor of the flight of
time, when a carriage drew up before the entrance of the prison, and M.
d'Escorval alighted, followed by his clerk.