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"Improper ones," said the General.
The Commissary shook his head. He had been employed in Paris, and had
been frequently sent to the headquarters of the staff at the Tuileries,
to General Changarnier. He knew him very well.
"
This is too much!" exclaimed the police agents. They blustered,
declared that they were police functionaries on a special service, that
they had instructions to conduct to the frontier this Leblanc, expelled
for political reasons, swore by all the gods, and gave their word of
honor that the so-called Leblanc was really named Leblanc.
"I do not much believe in words of honor," said the Commissary.
"Honest Commissary," muttered Changarnier, "you are right. Since the 2d
of December words of honor and oaths are no more than worthless paper
money."
And then he began to smile.
The Commissary became more and more perplexed. The police agents ended
by invoking the testimony of the prisoner himself.
"
Now, sir, tell him your name yourself."
"Get out of the difficulty yourselves," answered Changarnier.
All this appeared most irregular to the mind of a provincial alguazil.
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