"But I am innocent!" he protested, "therefore I have no fear what charges may be laid against me. They cannot be substantiated. The whole string of allegations is utterly ridiculous!"
"Eh bien! Then let us commence with the first," exclaimed Bézard, again referring to the file of secret reports before him. "On Wednesday, the fourteenth day of January, you went to Commercy, where, at the Café de la Cloche, you met a certain Belgian who passed under the name of Laloux."
"I recollect!" cried Le Pontois quickly. "I sold him a horse. He was a dealer."
"A dealer in forged notes," remarked one of the officials, with a faint smile.
"Was he a forger, then?" asked Le Pontois in entire surprise.
"Yes. He has entered France several times in the guise of a horsedealer," Pierrepont interrupted.
"But I only bought a horse of him," declared the prisoner vehemently.
"And you paid for it in English notes, apologising that you had no other money. He took them, for he passed them in Belgium into an English bank in Brussels. They were forged!"
"Again, on the sixteenth of May, you met the man Laloux at the same place," said Bézard.
"He had a mare to sell—I tried to buy it for my wife to drive, but he wanted too much."