In the Days of My Youth: A NovelEdwards, Amelia B.
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In the Days of My Youth: A Novel
Edwards, Amelia B.
Love stories; Medical students -- Fiction; Paris (France) -- Fiction
The avocat, happily, was fertile in suggestions. This, he said, was not
a case for a witness. Here was no question of appearing before a court.
With the foregone offences of either Lenoir or Bras de Fer, we had
nothing to do; and to convict them of such offences formed no part of
our plan. We only sought to show that Lenoir and Bras de Fer were in
truth "one and the same person," and we could only do so upon the
authority of some third party who had seen both. Now Monsieur Müller had
seen Lenoir, but not Bras de Fer; and Guichet had seen Bras de Fer, but
not Lenoir. Here, then, was the real difficulty; and here, he hoped, its
obvious solution. Let Guichet be taken to some place where, being
himself unseen, he may obtain a glimpse of Lenoir. This done, he can, in
a private interview of two minutes, state his conviction to Monsieur the
Chef de Bureau--_voilà tout_! If, however, the said Guichet can be
persuaded by no considerations either of interest or justice, then
another very simple course remains open. Every newly-arrived convict in
every penal establishment throughout France is photographed on his
entrance into the Bagne, and these photographs are duly preserved for
purposes of identification like the present. Supposing therefore Bras de
Fer had not escaped from Toulon before the introduction of this system,
his portrait would exist in the official books to this day, and might
doubtless be obtained, if proper application were made through an
official channel.
Armed with this information, and knowing that any attempt to induce
Guichet to move further in the matter would be useless, we then went
back to the Bureau, and with much difficulty succeeded in persuading M.
le Chef to send to Toulon for the photograph. This done, we could only
wait and be patient.
Briefly, then, we did wait and were patient--though the last condition
was not easy; for even I, who was by no means disposed to sympathize
with Müller in his solicitude for the fair Marie, could not but feel a
strange contagion of excitement in this _chasse au forçat_. And so a
week or ten days went by, till one memorable afternoon, when Müller came
rushing round to my rooms in hot haste, about an hour before the time
when we usually met to go to dinner, and greeted me with--
"Good news, _mon vieux_! good news! The photograph has come--and I have
been to the Bureau to see it--and I have identified my man--and he will
be arrested to-night, as surely as that he carries T.F. on his
shoulder!"
"You are certain he is the same?" I said.
"As certain as I am of my own face when I see it in the looking-glass."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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