d'institution, presented himself to the Bishop of
Nice, and ordained thirty-three abbés. The
game of prelacy, however, could not be safely
played long; Collet turned his face to Fréjus,
as an inspector-general, covered with military
decorations. At Draguignan he formed his
stuff, and at Toulon the préfet's son was
proud to become his private secretary; at
Marseilles he had a suite of twenty followers,
and took one hundred and thirty thousand
francs (five thousand two hundred pounds)
from the government chests. His people
must be fed. At Nîmes he took three
hundred thousand francs, or twelve thousand
pounds.

But, Anthelme Collet's theatricals were
drawing to a close; the game was getting
too warm for him. While breakfasting with
the préfet of Montpellier, the brilliant
inspector-general was seized by the police,
and his staff of dupes were summarily
incarcerated. For better security, he was put
into a dungeon below ground. He expected
nothing else than to be shot; when the
préfet, willing to gratify the curiosity of a
large dinner-party whom he had invited to
meet the inspector-general, and to whom he
was eager to show the lion under a new form,
ordered the prisoner to be brought up to be
looked at. While the guard went in to
announce him, he was left in the office, or
passage-room between the kitchen and the
dining-room, under the care of two sentinels.
Before they knew he had turned round, he
had put on a cook's cap, apron, and vest that
lay handy; seized a dish waiting to be carried
into the salle-à-manger; carried it in; and set
it down before the préfet; then he disappeared.
The sentinels had seen nothing but a cook
of the establishment pass through the office.
While the city was up in arms, and the police
were hunting everywhere, Collet, from the
window of a small room close to the
préfecture, watched their movements, laughed
at their dismay; in a fortnight's time, he
was safe out of the city. Such an escape was
unprecedented. People talked of magic and
compacts with unpleasant powers, and all
sorts of wild superstitions crept around the
name of Anthelme Collet. The truth only
came out when he was finally arrested, and
he told his adventures with a novellist's
delight.

He took refuge from the police of
Montpellier in the convent of the Brothers of
Christian Doctrine at Toulouse. He was a
boarder there, and enchanted them all by
his piety and munificence. He made them
wonderful promises—the Arabian Nights
were nothing to him; he did buy (but did
not pay for), a piece of land whereon to
build an establishment for novices; for, the
Brothers of Christian Doctrine were to take
the lead of every other monastic institution
in Toulouse. One day, while the good, simple,
credulous brothers went to inspect their new
domain, and to see how far the workmen had
got on with the noviciate establishment, their
kind patron loaded a carriage with the vases,
cups, ornaments, and jewelled relics of the
chapel; not forgetting all the money he
could find in the house. When the unhappy
brothers returned, they found their patron
and their wealth among the things that were
not.

Knowing that he would be hotly pursued,
Collet conceived and executed one of those
strokes of genius which are almost sublime.
He went to Roche-Beaucourt, and took
lodgings in the commissary's house. The
police, of course, looked too wide, and Collet
assisted in the search after himself. No one
suspected the commissary's guest, and the
pursuit slackened and finally died away.
Under the name of Galat, and in the guise
of a modest and honest rentier, our friend
turned next to Mans. He lodged in the parish
of Couture, and was remarked for his pious
exactitude in attending mass, vespers, and
the confessional, and for his wonderful
benevolence to the poor. He distributed large
quantities of bread daily—furnished on credit
by a rich baker; for, Galat's rents were not yet
due, and he was temporarily short of cash.
He bought much jewellery, too, on credit, and
mystified honest men by sending them to
look at a certain estate, which he had to sell
at a low price, and which they never could
find. Finally, he would buy a cabriolet of one
of the rich notables of the town. But, he
must try the cabriolet first. He did try it,
and drove it ten leagues away from Mans.
When safe at the end of his ten leagues, he
wrote a polite note to the owner, telling him
where he might find his property, thanking
him for a very useful loan; but declining
to purchase it, having no more occasion
for it.

Collet was arrested a short time after this,
after more than twenty years of successful
swindling; was condemned to twenty years'
travaux forçes at the Bagne, was branded
with the letters T. F. between his
shoulders, and was taken to Rochefort as a
galley-slave. He led the most luxurious
life a man could lead (even at this day,
French prisoners with money may buy
unheard of personal luxuries), no one knowing
where his immense resources came from.
When he died—which he did just before
the expiry of his sentence—a large quantity
of gold was found stitched in between
the lining and the outer covering of his
clothes.

The result of the Brussels lottery was to
be made known one evening in Paris. In
the time of the Empire, it was lawful to buy
tickets for the Brussels lottery, three hours
before the arrival of the courier with the list
of the winning numbers. With a margin of
three hours, there surely could be no foul
play, even among the clever sharpers of Paris.
Rather more than four hours before the