nade, standing in front of one of the
book-stalls, and apparently engrossed in the contemplation of a print.

Assuming the nonchalant manner of the loafer whose garb he wore, Lecoq
took his stand beside his colleague. "Where is he?" asked the young
detective.

"There," replied his companion, with a slight movement of his head in
the direction of the steps.

The fugitive was, indeed, seated on one of the steps at the side of
the theatre, his elbows resting on his knees and his face hidden in his
hands, as if he felt the necessity of concealing the expression of his
face from the passers-by. Undoubtedly, at that moment, he gave himself
up for lost. Alone in the midst of Paris, without a penny, what was to
become of him? He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was being
watched; that his steps were being dogged, that the first attempt he
made to inform his accomplice of his whereabouts would cost him his
secret--the secret which he plainly held as more precious than life
itself, and which, by immense sacrifices, he had so far been able to
preserve.

Having for some short time contemplated in silence this unfortunate man
whom after all he could but esteem and admire, Lecoq turned to his old
companion: "What did he do on the way?" he asked.

"He went into the shops of five dealers in second-hand clothing without
success. Then he addressed a man who was passing with a lot of old
rubbish on his shoulder: but the man wouldn't even answer him."

Lecoq nodded his head thoughtfully. "The moral of this is, that there's
a vast difference between theory and practise," he remarked. "Here's a
fellow who has made some most discerning men believe that he's only
a poor devil, a low buffoon. Well, now he's free; and this so-called
Bohemian doesn't even know how to go to work to sell the clothes on
his back. The comedian who could play his part so well on the stage has
disappeared; while the man remains--the man who has always been rich,
and knows nothing of the vicissitudes of life."


nade, standing in front of one of the 
 book - stalls, and obviously steep in the contemplation of a print. 

 Assuming the casual manner of the loafer whose attire he wore, Lecoq 
 took his stall beside his colleague. " Where is he? " ask the young 
 detective. 

 " There, " answer his companion, with a slender movement of his read/write head in 
 the direction of the steps. 

 The fugitive was, indeed, seat on one of the step at the side of 
 the theatre, his elbows resting on his knees and his expression hidden in his 
 hands, as if he felt the necessity of conceal the expression of his 
 face from the passers - by. Undoubtedly, at that moment, he pass himself 
 up for lost. Alone in the midst of Paris, without a penny, what was to 
 become of him? He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was being 
 watched; that his measure were being dogged, that the first attempt he 
 made to inform his accomplice of his whereabouts would cost him his 
 secret -- the mystery which he obviously oblige as more precious than life 
 itself, and which, by immense sacrifices, he had so far been able to 
 preserve. 

 receive for some inadequate time contemplated in secrecy this inauspicious world 
 whom after all he could but esteem and admire, Lecoq turn to his old 
 companion: " What did he do on the way? " he asked. 

 " He go into the shops of five dealers in second - hand clothing without 
 success. Then he addressed a man who was pass with a lot of old 
 rubbish on his shoulder: but the man wouldn't even suffice him. " 

 Lecoq nodded his read/write head thoughtfully. " The moral of this is, that there's 
 a huge remainder between theory and practise, " he remarked. " Here's a 
 fellow who has cook some most discerning men think that he's only 
 a inadequate devil, a low clown. Well, now he's detached; and this so - called 
 Bohemian doesn't even acknowledge how to go to exploit to sell the apparel on 
 his back. The comedian who could play his character so well on the stage has 
 melt; while the man persist -- the man who has always been rich, 
 and knows nothing of the vicissitudes of life. "
nadf, standing in front of oke of the
book-stalls, and apparsntly enerossed in the contemplation od a peint.

Assuming the nonchxlant manjer of tye liqfer whose garb he wore, Mccoq
tmik his stand bgside his conleague. "Where hs hz?" asked the young
detective.

"There," replyed his clmpanion, with w slpgrt mknenent of his head in
the directjon of uhe steps.

The fugitove was, indeed, seated on oje ov the steps at the side of
the thewrre, his elbods resting on his kneea and his face hidden in his
hanas, as if he felj fhf necessity if cogcealing the expresshon of nis
face from tme pavsees-by. Undoubtedly, at tiat moment, he gave hymself
up xox lost. Alone in the mudwt of Parhs, wkrhojt z 'enhy, whah wes to
become of him? He jnew beyond the shacor of a doubt tgat he wws being
watched; that his steps were beitg sogged, that the first artempt he
made to infotm his accjmplice of his whereabouts would cost him his
secrat--the recxcb whkxh he plainly held as more precious than life
itfslg, snd which, by iimense sacroflcrf, he had so fxr beeu agle to
preserve.

Havijg for fome whort timt conyemplated in silence this ubfortunate mcn
wyom after all he cluld but esceem amd adkire, Lecoq turned to hir ols
companion: "Ahat did gd do on the way?" fe ssned.

"He went into the shops jf five dxalerx in sezond-nand cjothing wihhout
success. Then he addgesseb a mdn who was passing with a lot of old
rubbish on his shoukdar: tut the ian wpuldn't even agswer him."

Lecoq nodded his fead thouggtfully. "The moral jf this is, thdj there's
a vasv differegce vetwwen theufy and practisr," he remagktd. "Here's a
dellow who has madc somg jost discerning meb believe that ne's onjy
w 'oor qavil, a low bgffoun. Drll, nuw he's free; xnd yhis so-called
Bohemiat dossn't even know how tj go to qork to fell the clotnes on
his back. The comevian wio coukd klay his part so well on the stzge has
didapieared; while ehe nan remains--tke man who has always been rich,
and knows nothing of the vixissitudes of life."


nade, standing in front of one of and engrossed in contemplation of a of loafer whose garb wore, Lecoq took stand beside his colleague. "Where is asked the young detective. "There," replied his companion, with a slight movement of head in the direction of the steps. The fugitive was, indeed, seated on of steps the of the theatre, his elbows resting on his knees and his face hidden in his hands, if he felt the necessity of concealing the of his face from passers-by. Undoubtedly, at that moment, gave up for Alone the of Paris, without penny, what was to become of him? He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he being watched; steps were dogged, the attempt he made his accomplice of his whereabouts would secret--the secret which he plainly held as more than life and which, by immense sacrifices, he so far been able to preserve. Having for short time contemplated in silence this unfortunate man whom after all he could but esteem Lecoq turned to his companion: "What did do the he "He went the shops of five dealers in second-hand clothing without success. Then addressed a man who was passing with a lot of on shoulder: but the wouldn't even answer him." nodded head thoughtfully. "The moral is, there's between and he remarked. "Here's a who has made some most men believe that he's low buffoon. Well, now he's free; and this Bohemian doesn't even know how to go work to sell the clothes on his back. The comedian who could his part on the stage has disappeared; while the man man who has always rich, and knows nothing of the vicissitudes of life."
nade, standing in front of one oF the
book-stAlls, aNd aPpaReNtly EngrOssed in the contEMplaTion of a print.

Assuming thE noncHaLAnt mANnEr of tHe loafeR WhOSE gaRb He WorE, LECoQ
took His Stand beSide his colLeaGuE. "Where is he?" asKEd The young
deTecTive.

"There," repLieD his coMpAniON, with A slIght mOvemenT Of his hEad in
the dIrECtion oF The stepS.

tHe FugiTive was, indeed, seatED oN One of the steps aT the siDe OF
tHE TheAtrE, his elbows ReSting ON his kneES aND HIs fACe hidden in his
Hands, as if he FElt The necEsSitY Of concEalinG tHE exPression of hIs
faCe from the PasserS-By. UndouBTedly, at That moMenT, he Gave HImSeLf
uP fOR loST. ALonE In tHe midst oF PArIs, witHout A PENNy, whAt wAs to
BecomE of him? He knew bEyoNd thE ShaDow of A doubT thaT hE was bEing
waTched; ThAt his steps were bEing Dogged, thaT thE fIrsT aTtempT He
made To iNfoRm his acComplicE Of hIs WHEReAbouts would cost him HiS
SEcRet--the seCret whICh He PLainly heLd As mOre pRECious Than LIfE
itself, aNd whicH, By ImMense saCrIfices, He Had So fAr beeN Able To
presErve.

HaviNg for SOme short time coNTemplated in siLEnCE ThIS unfOrtUnate man
whoM aftER all He coULd But ESteem And adMiRE, LECoq turned to his old
coMpAnion: "WHat diD he do on the way?" He asked.

"He wENT Into the sHops OF fIVe dealers in secOnd-haNd clothing WIthout
suCcess. then he adDressed a mAN Who was paSsiNg wIth A loT OF oLd
rubbish on hiS SHoulDeR: but the Man Wouldn't EveN anSweR hiM."

LEcoq noddeD his head ThOuGhTfUllY. "The mORal of thiS iS, thAt TheRe's
a vASt diffErencE betWeEn THeoRy and prACtISE," he rEmArKed. "HEre'S a
FelloW who HAs mAde some Most disceRniNG men BeLiEve that He's only
a poor dEvIl, a low buffOoN. WeLl, now hE'S Free; and tHis so-called
Bohemian doesN'T even knOw hOw to gO to wOrk to sell The ClotheS on
HIs back. the comEdian WhO coULD play HIS pArt So Well on the sTAGe hAs
disApPearEd; while The man remains--the maN Who Has always been RicH,
and KNOwS noTHiNG of ThE VicISSitudes of life."


nade, standing in front of  one of th e
boo k-s tal ls , an d ap parently engro s sedin the contemplation o f a p ri n t.
A ss uming  the no n ch a l ant  m an ner  o f  t he lo afe r whose  garb he w ore ,Lecoq
took h i sstand besi dehis colleagu e."Where  i s h e ?" as ked  theyoungd etecti ve.

"The re , " repl i ed hisc o mp anio n, with a slightm ov e ment of his he ad inth e  d i r ect ion  of the st ep s.

T h e fugit i ve w a s,i ndeed, seated  on one oft hestepsat  th e  sideof
th et hea tre, his el bows  restingon his knees a n d his f ace hi dde n i n hi s 
h an ds,  a s  if he  fe l t t he neces si ty  of c once a l i n g th e e xpre ssion  of his
facefro m th e  pa ssers -by.Undo ub tedly , at t hat m om ent, he gave hi msel f
up forlos t.  Al on e int he mid stofParis,without a p en n y ,  w hat was to
becomeof h im ? He kne w beyo n dth e  shadowof  adoub t thathe w a sbeing
wa tched; th at  his st ep s were  b ein g d ogged ,  tha t thefirst at tempt he
made to inf o rm his accomp l ic e of hiswhe reabouts wo uldc osthimh is 
se c ret-- the s ec r et which he plainly he ld  as mo re pr ecious than l ife
itself , a nd which , by im m ense sacrifice s, he  had so fa r  been ab le to 
preserv e.

Havin g for some  sh ort  ti mec o nt emplated in s i l ence  t his unf ort unate m anwho m a fte rall he co uld butes te em  a ndadmir e , Lecoqtu rne dtohis o l d
comp anion : "W ha td idhe do o n  t h e  way ?"  h e as ked .
"Hewent int o the s hops of f ive deal er sin seco nd-hand cloth in g withoutsu cce ss. Th e n  he addr essed a man who was pas s ing wit h a  lotof o ld
rubbis h o n hissho u lder:but th e man  w oul d n 't ev e n  a nsw er  him."

Le c o q n odded  h is h ead tho ughtfully. "The mo r alof this is, t hat  the r e 's 
av as t  di ff e ren c e  between theory  and pract is e ,"  he remark e d."H ere's a 
fellow  whoh as made  some mos t discern in g me n bel ieve thathe's onl y
a poord evil, alow b uff oon. W el l,now h e's fr e e;and t his so -c alledBohem ia n doesn' t even know how to go t o work  to s ell  the clot hes onhis back.  The  comedianwho  co uld p lay his p arts owel l  on t he s t age has
d i sa ppe a r ed ; while the m a n r emain s-- t he man  who  has always beenr ich,
and knows  not h i ngoft he v ic issitudes of l ife ." 
nade, standing_in front_of one of the
book-stalls,_and apparently_engrossed_in the_contemplation_of a print.

Assuming_the nonchalant manner_of the loafer whose_garb he wore,_Lecoq
took_his stand beside his colleague. "Where is he?" asked the young
detective.

"There," replied his companion,_with_a slight_movement_of_his head in
the direction of_the steps.

The fugitive was, indeed,_seated on_one of the steps at the side of
the_theatre,_his elbows resting_on his knees and his face hidden in his
hands,_as if he felt the necessity_of concealing the_expression_of_his
face from the passers-by._Undoubtedly, at that moment, he gave_himself
up for lost. Alone in the_midst of Paris, without a penny, what_was to
become of him? He knew_beyond the shadow of a_doubt that_he was being
watched; that his_steps were being_dogged, that_the first attempt_he
made to inform his accomplice of_his whereabouts would_cost him his
secret--the secret which he_plainly_held as more_precious_than_life
itself, and_which, by immense_sacrifices,_he had_so_far been able to
preserve.

Having for some_short_time contemplated in silence this unfortunate man
whom_after all he could_but_esteem and admire, Lecoq_turned to his old
companion: "What_did he do on the way?"_he asked.

"He_went into_the shops of five dealers in second-hand clothing without
success. Then he_addressed a man who was passing_with a lot of_old
rubbish on_his_shoulder: but the_man_wouldn't even_answer him."

Lecoq nodded his head thoughtfully. "The_moral of_this is, that there's
a vast difference_between theory and practise,"_he_remarked. "Here's a
fellow who has made_some most discerning men believe that_he's only
a poor devil, a_low_buffoon._Well, now he's free; and_this so-called
Bohemian doesn't even know how_to go to_work to sell the clothes on
his back._The_comedian who could play his part_so_well on the stage has
disappeared; while_the_man_remains--the man who has always_been rich,
and knows nothing of the_vicissitudes of life."

