to the Morgue. There they will doubtless be identified." He reflected
for a moment, and then added: "And to think that one of these dead men
is perhaps Lacheneur himself!"

"That is scarcely possible," said Lecoq. "The spurious soldier, being
the last to die, had seen his companions fall. If he had supposed
Lacheneur to be dead, he would not have spoken of vengeance."

Gevrol, who for the past two hours had pretended to pay no attention to
the proceedings, now approached. He was not the man to yield even to the
strongest evidence. "If Monsieur, the Commissary, will listen to me, he
shall hear my opinion, which is a trifle more definite than M. Lecoq's
fancies."

Before he could say any more, the sound of a vehicle stopping before
the door of the cabin interrupted him, and an instant afterward the
investigating magistrate entered the room.

All the officials assembled at the Poivriere knew at least by sight the
magistrate who now made his appearance, and Gevrol, an old habitue
of the Palais de Justice, mechanically murmured his name: "M. Maurice
d'Escorval."

He was the son of that famous Baron d'Escorval, who, in 1815, sealed his
devotion to the empire with his blood, and upon whom Napoleon, in the
Memorial of St. Helena, pronounced this magnificent eulogium: "Men
as honest as he may, I believe, exist; but more honest, no, it is not
possible."

Having entered upon his duties as magistrate early in life, and being