Robelot made an effort; it was painful, with his broken jaw, to speak.
"I came to rob; I confess it."
"To rob—what?"
"I don't know."
"But you didn't scale a wall and risk the jail without a definite object?"
"Well, then, I wanted—"
He stopped.
"What? Go on."
"To get some rare flowers in the conservatory."
"With your cutlass, hey?" said M. Lecoq. Robelot gave him a terrible look; the detective continued: