"No," he cried hoarsely, "I won't do it, I'll never do it!"
Both the judge and Coquenil gave satisfied nods at this sign of a breakdown, but they rejoiced too soon, for by a marvelous effort of the will, the man recovered his self-mastery and calm.
"After all," he corrected himself, "what does it matter? I'll put the things on," and, with his old impassive air, he went to the table and, aided by the guard, quickly donned the boots and garments of the wood carver. He even smiled contemptuously as he did so.
"What a man! What a man!" thought Coquenil, watching him admiringly.
"There!" said the prisoner when the thing was done.
But the judge shook his head. "You've forgotten the beard and the wig. Suppose you help make up his face," he said to the detective.
M. Paul fell to work zealously at this task and, using an elaborate collection of paints, powders, and brushes that were in the bag, he presently had accomplished a startling change in the unresisting prisoner—he had literally transformed him into the wood carver.
"If you're not Groener now," said Coquenil, surveying his work with a satisfied smile, "I'll swear you're his twin brother. It's the best disguise I ever saw, I'll take my hat off to you on that."
"Extraordinary!" murmured the judge. "Groener, do you still deny that this disguise belongs to you?"