“So he too wants to save Lucien!” thought Camusot, going on by the Quai des Lunettes, while the Public Prosecutor entered the Palais through the Cour de Harlay.

On reaching the courtyard of the Conciergerie, Camusot went to the Governor’s room and led him into the middle of the pavement, where no one could overhear them.

“My dear sir, do me the favor of going to La Force, and inquiring of your colleague there whether he happens at this moment to have there any convicts who were on the hulks at Toulon between 1810 and 1815; or have you any imprisoned here?  We will transfer those of La Force here for a few days, and you will let me know whether this so-called Spanish priest is known to them as Jacques Collin, otherwise Trompe-la-Mort.”

“Very good, Monsieur Camusot.—­But Bibi-Lupin is come . . .”

“What, already?” said the judge.

“He was at Melun.  He was told that Trompe-la-Mort had to be identified, and he smiled with joy.  He awaits your orders.”

“Send him to me.”

The Governor was then able to lay before Monsieur Camusot Jacques Collin’s request, and he described the man’s deplorable condition.

“I intended to examine him first,” replied the magistrate, “but not on account of his health.  I received a note this morning from the Governor of La Force.  Well, this rascal, who described himself to you as having been dying for twenty-four hours past, slept so soundly that they went into his cell there, with the doctor for whom the Governor had sent, without his hearing them; the doctor did not even feel his pulse, he left him to sleep—­which proves that his conscience is as tough as his health.  I shall accept this feigned illness only so far as it may enable me to study my man,” added Monsieur Camusot, smiling.

“We live to learn every day with these various grades of prisoners,” said the Governor of the prison.

The Prefecture of police adjoins the Conciergerie, and the magistrates, like the Governor, knowing all the subterranean passages, can get to and fro with the greatest rapidity.  This explains the miraculous ease with which information can be conveyed, during the sitting of the Courts, to the officials and the presidents of the Assize Courts.  And by the time Monsieur Camusot had reached the top of the stairs leading to his chambers, Bibi-Lupin was there too, having come by the Salle des Pas-Perdus.

“What zeal!” said Camusot, with a smile.

“Ah, well, you see if it is he,” replied the man, “you will see great fun in the prison-yard if by chance there are any old stagers here.”

“Why?”

“Trompe-la-Mort sneaked their chips, and I know that they have vowed to be the death of him.”

They were the convicts whose money, intrusted to Trompe-la-Mort, had all been made away with by him for Lucien, as has been told.

“Could you lay your hand on the witnesses of his former arrest?”