“What is the uniform that he wears?”
“It is the uniform of the 2d battalion of the 53d regiment of the line.”
“Do you recognize him?”
“Not at all.”
“Are you sure that he does not belong to your regiment?”
“I can not say for certain: there are some conscripts at the Depot whom I have never seen. But I am ready to swear that he had never formed part of the 2d battalion—which, by the way, is mine, and in which I am sergeant-major.”
Lecoq, who had hitherto remained in the background, now stepped forward. “It might be as well,” he suggested, “to note the numbers marked on the other articles of clothing.”
“That is a very good idea,” said the commissary, approvingly.
“Here is his shako,” added the young police agent. “It bears the number 3,129.”
The officials followed Lecoq’s advice, and soon discovered that each article of clothing worn by the unfortunate man bore a different number.