"Yes; at least once a year, after the inspection."

"And are not the articles thus sold marked in some way?"

"Assuredly."

"Then see if there isn't some mark of the kind on this poor wretch's
uniform."

The sergeant turned up the collar of the coat and examined the
waist-band of the pantaloons. "You are right," he said, "these are
condemned garments."

The eyes of the young police agent sparkled. "We must then believe that
the poor devil purchased this costume," he observed. "Where? Necessarily
at the Temple, from one of the dealers in military clothing. There are
only five or six of these establishments. I will go from one to another
of them, and the person who sold these clothes will certainly recognize
them by some trade mark."

"And that will assist us very much," growled Gevrol. The sergeant-major,
to his great relief, now received permission to retire, but not without
having been warned that very probably the commissary would require his
deposition. The moment had come to search the garments of the pretended
soldier, and the commissary, who performed this duty himself, hoped that
some clue as to the man's identity would be forthcoming. He proceeded
with his task, at the same time dictating to one of the men a
_proces-verbal_ of the search; that is to say, a minute description of
all the articles he found upon the dead man's person. In the right hand
trousers pocket some tobacco, a pipe, and a few matches were found; in