“Not one of them recognized him,” said Monsieur Gault, “and Napolitas, who is on duty, did not hear a word. The poor priest all through the night, in his deep distress, did not say a word which could imply that his gown covers Jacques Collin.”
“That shows that he is used to prison life,” said the police agent.
Napolitas, Bibi-Lupin’s secretary, being unknown to the criminals then in the Conciergerie, was playing the part of the young gentlemen imprisoned for forgery.
“Well, but he wishes to be allowed to hear the confession of the young fellow who is sentenced to death,” said the governor.
“To be sure! That is our last chance,” cried Bibi-Lupin. “I had forgotten that. Theodore Calvi, the young Corsican, was the man chained to Jacques Collin; they say that on the hulks Jacques Collin made him famous pads——”
The convicts on the galleys contrive a kind of pad to slip between their skin and the fetters to deaden the pressure of the iron ring on their ankles and instep; these pads, made of tow and rags, are known as patarasses.
“Who is warder over the man?” asked Bibi-Lupin.
“Coeur la Virole.”
“Very well, I will go and make up as a gendarme, and be on the watch; I shall hear what they say. I will be even with them.”
“But if it should be Jacques Collin are you not afraid of his recognizing you and throttling you?” said the governor to Bibi-Lupin.