"But am I to understand that you deny his identity?" said the officer,
turning sharply on Plon. "Speak up, man!"
M. Plon looked round, bewildered. "How could he have got into the
house?"
"Never mind that. What we want is 'yes' or 'no' Is it Jean Didier? Come
close and see for yourself."
"It is like him," said the landlord, examining him from head to foot,
"certainly it is like him; I could almost believe it was he, only--how
could he have got into the house?"
"As to that--where there's a woman--" said Leblanc, turning away. They
were all watching him, except Perine, who was sobbing stormily on the
wooden stool, and he said shortly, "There is something more in my
note-book."
"More!" repeated Jean with alarm.
"Would you rather not have it?"
Marie, who had not taken her eyes from him, advanced with her hands
pressed upon her heart.
"Courage, my friend," she said breathlessly. "Yes, _M. le
Commissaire_, we will hear."
It had struck her that he was smiling.
He began to read in his sing-song voice, "Fort, convicted of forgery,
died last month in the Grande Roquette. Before his death he confessed
his denunciation of Jean Didier to have been false."
Jean Didier's wife turned round, opened her arms and fell upon her
husband's neck, speechless.
* * * * *
So this was the end of that affair.
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