The cell-door again opened, and the jailer’s gruff voice once more called out:
“It is time for you to appear before the court.”
He instantly obeyed the order.
But his step was no longer unsteady, as a few days previous: a complete change had taken place within him. He walked with a firm step, head erect, and the fire of resolution in his eye.
He knew the way now, and he walked a little ahead of the constable who escorted him.
As he was passing through the room full of policemen, he met the man with gold spectacles, who had watched him so intently the day he was searched.
“Courage, M. Prosper Bertomy,” he said: “if you are innocent, there are those who will help you.”
Prosper started with surprise, and was about to reply, when the man disappeared.
“Who is that gentleman?” he asked of the policeman.
“Is it possible that you don’t know him?” replied the policeman with surprise. “Why, it is M. Lecoq, of the police service.”