"Philippon's?"
"I take no bribes," he muttered.
"Lescaut's?"
"Not a denier."
"Liar!" I exclaimed. "Liar, who devour widows' houses and poor
men's corn! Who grind the weak and say it is the King; and let
the rich go free. Answer me, and answer the truth. How much do
these men give you?"
"Nothing," he said defiantly.
"Very well," I answered; "then I will have the list. It is in
your shoe."
"I have no list," he said, beginning to tremble.
"It is in your shoe," I repeated, pointing to his gouty foot.
"Maignan, off with his shoe, and look in it."
Disregarding his shrieks of pain, they tore it off and looked in
it. There was no list.
"Off with his stocking," I said roundly.
"It is there."
He flung himself down at that, cursing and protesting by turns.
But I remembered the trampled corn, and the girl's bleeding face,
and I was inexorable. The stocking was drawn off, not too
tender]y, and turned inside out. Still no list was found.
"He has it," I persisted. "We have tried the shoe and we have
tried the stocking, now we must try the foot.
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