We knocked at the door. A man about forty opened it. He recognized M. Leduc.
“My dear fellow,” M. Leduc said to him, “this is one of my learned friends—”
“Come, come,” I exclaimed, interrupting him, “no nonsense.”
“Who contends,” continued M. Leduc, “that the prison is no longer the same as it was in the last century?”
“That is true, M. Leduc, it was torn down and rebuilt in 1816.”
“Then the interior arrangements are no longer the same?”
“Oh! no, sir, everything was changed.”
“Could I see the old plan?”
“M. Martin, the architect, might perhaps be able to find one for you.”
“Is he any relation to M. Martin, the lawyer?”