To be condemned to death cannot be a very pleasant feeling, and Robeccal, though assured that he should not suffer, was naturally very uneasy. He did his best to keep up his courage, hoping every minute that some one would appear and furnish him with the means of leaving France. Finally the door opened, and Vidocq himself, the Chief of Police, entered.

Robeccal, in a state of suppressed delight, had the audacity to wink at him.

"At last!" said the prisoner. "Really, sir, I think I have had about enough of this. When am I to leave France?"

"I think, my dear sir," answered Vidocq, in a somewhat sarcastic voice, "that you will not leave France."

"Ah! I am glad to hear that."

"A residence has been assigned to you in a most delightful climate."

"And where may that be? What is the name of the place?"

"You will have no difficulty in remembering it, I fancy. Toulon is the name."

"Toulon!" repeated Robeccal, his eyes fairly starting from his head.

"Yes, your punishment has been changed. You are condemned, not to death, but to imprisonment for life."

Robeccal tried to smile. It was a joke, of course, but he did not like it.

"My dear sir," continued Vidocq, calmly and politely, "You are a scoundrel, and you accepted a base rÔle. You think we have broken faith with you, but faith can not be kept with creatures like yourself."

Robeccal protested and raved, all to no purpose.

Vidocq went to the door and called; four men, each Hercules, appeared.

"Take this fellow away," said Vidocq, "he is to go with the other prisoners to Toulon in the morning."

Robeccal began to curse and swear.

"You will gag him," added Vidocq, "it is better. Good-bye, Monsieur Robeccal, I don't think we are likely to meet again!"

Vidocq looked on with a satirical smile while Robeccal was carried off.

Some months later he endeavored to make his escape from Toulon, and was shot.