The appearance of this man corresponded exactly with the description given of him by the porters at Chatou, and by the gatekeeper at the bridge.
Finally, the old man thought he was on the track of some one who entered the same carriage as the breathless passenger. He had been told of a baker living at Asnieres, and he had written to him, asking him to call at his house.
Such was old Tabaret’s information, when on the Monday morning he called at the Palais de Justice, in order to find out if the record of Widow Lerouge’s past life had been received. He found that nothing had arrived, but in the passage he met Gevrol and his man.
The chief of detectives was triumphant, and showed it too. As soon as he saw Tabaret, he called out, “Well, my illustrious mare’s-nest hunter, what news? Have you had any more scoundrels guillotined since the other day? Ah, you old rogue, you want to oust me from my place I can see!”
The old man was sadly changed.
The consciousness of his mistake made him humble and meek. These pleasantries, which a few days before would have made him angry, now did not touch him. Instead of retaliating, he bowed his head in such a penitent manner that Gevrol was astonished.
“Jeer at me, my good M. Gevrol,” he replied, “mock me without pity; you are right, I deserve it all.”
“Ah, come now,” said the chief, “have you then performed some new masterpiece, you impetuous old fellow?”
Old Tabaret shook his head sadly.
“I have delivered up an innocent man,” he said, “and justice will not restore him his freedom.”