"For the present to the south of France."
"To—the—south—of—France," repeated Robeckal.
"To Toulon."
"To Toulon?" cried the wretch, in terror. "That is impossible!"
"And why should it be impossible?" asked Vidocq, smiling maliciously.
"Because—because," stammered Robeckal, faintly, "the sentence—"
"Was death by strangulation. Thanks to the efforts of your friends, it has been commuted to the galleys for life, and I think you ought to be satisfied with the change."
"But—the—promise?" whined the criminal. "But, come, now, you are only joking?"
"I never joke," said the detective, earnestly; "besides, you must have been very innocent to imagine any one would make a compact with a scoundrel like you. It would be a crime against society to allow you to continue your bad course. No, thank God, the judges in France know their duty."