"Did you hear that, Crochard?" asked the lawyer.

But the accused had recovered his self-control by a great effort; and he replied,- "I am not deaf." And there was in his voice the unmistakable accent of the former vagabond of Paris. "I hear perfectly well; only I don't understand."

The magistrate, finding that, where he was seated, he could not very well observe Crochard, had quietly gotten up, and was now standing near the mantle-piece, against which he rested.

"On the contrary," he said severely, "you understand but too well Lieut. Champcey says you are the man who tried to drown him in the Dong-Nai. He recognizes you."

"That's impossible!" exclaimed the accused. "That's impossible; for"- But the rest of the phrase remained in his throat. A sudden reflection had shown him the trap in which he had been caught,-a trap quite familiar to examining lawyers, and terrible by its very simplicity. But for that reflection, he would have gone on thus,- "That's impossible; for the night was too dark to distinguish a man's features."

And that would have been equivalent to a confession; and he would have had nothing to answer the magistrate, if the latter had asked at once,- "How do you know that the darkness was so great on the banks of the Dong-Nai? It seems you were there, eh?"

Quite pallid with fright, the accused simply said,- "The officer must be mistaken."

"I think not," replied the magistrate.

Turning to Daniel, he asked him,- "Do you persist in your declaration, lieutenant?"

"More than ever, sir; I declare upon honor that I recognize the man's voice. When he offered me a boat, he spoke a kind of almost unintelligible jargon, a mixture of English and Spanish words; but he did not think of changing his intonation and his accent."

Affecting an a.s.surance which he was far from really feeling, Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, shrugged his shoulders carelessly, and said,- "Do I know any English? Do I know any Spanish?"

"No, very likely not; but like all Frenchmen who live in this colony, and like all the marines, you no doubt know a certain number of words of these two languages."

To the great surprise of the doctor and of Daniel, the prisoner did not deny it; it looked as if he felt that he was on dangerous ground.

"Never mind!" he exclaimed in the most arrogant manner. "It is anyhow pretty hard to accuse an honest man of a crime, because his voice resembles the voice of a rascal."

The magistrate gently shook his head. He said,- "Do you pretend being an honest man?"

"What! I pretend? Let them send for my employers."

"That is not necessary. I know your antecedents, from the first petty theft that procured you four months' imprisonment, to the aggravated robbery for which you were sent to the penitentiary, when you were in the army."

Profound stupor lengthened all of Crochard's features; but he was not the man to give up a game in which his head was at stake, without fighting for it.

"Well, there you are mistaken," he said very coolly. "I have been condemned to ten years, that is true, when I was a soldier; but it was for having struck an officer who had punished me unjustly."

"You lie. A former soldier of your regiment, who is now in garrison here in Saigon, will prove it."

For the first time the accused seemed to be really troubled. He saw all of a sudden his past rising before him, which until now he had thought unknown or forgotten; and he knew full well the weight which antecedents like his would have in the scales of justice. So he changed his tactics; and, a.s.suming an abject humility, he said,- "One may have committed a fault, and still be incapable of murdering a man."

"That is not your case."

"Oh! how can you say such a thing?-I who would not harm a fly. Unlucky gun! Must I needs have such a mishap?"

The magistrate had for some time been looking at the accused with an air of the most profound disgust. He interrupted him rudely now, and said,- "Look here, my man! Spare us those useless denials. Justice knows everything it wants to know. That shot was the third attempt you made to murder a man."

Crochard drew back. He looked livid. But he had still the strength to say in a half-strangled voice,- "That is false!"

But the magistrate had too great an abundance of evidence to allow the examination to continue. He said simply,- "Who, then, threw, during the voyage, an enormous block at M. Champcey's head? Come, don't deny it. The emigrant who was near you, who saw you, and who promised he would not report you at that time, has spoken. Do you want to see him?"

Once more Crochard opened his lips to protest his innocence; but he could not utter a sound. He was crushed, annihilated; he trembled in all his limbs; and his teeth rattled in his mouth. In less than no time, his features had sunk in, as it were, till he looked like a man at the foot of the scaffold. It may be, that, feeling he was irretrievably lost, he had had a vision of the fatal instrument.

"Believe me," continued the lawyer, "do not insist upon the impossible; you had better tell the truth."

For another minute yet, the miserable man hesitated. Then, seeing no other chance of safety, except the mercy of the judges, he fell heavily on his knees, and stammered out,- "I am a wretched man."

At the same instant a cry of astonishment burst from the doctor, from Daniel, and the worthy Lefloch. But the man of law was not surprised. He knew in advance that the first victory would be easily won, and that the real difficulty would be to induce the prisoner to confess the name of his princ.i.p.al. Without giving him, therefore time to recover, he said,- "Now, what reasons had you for persecuting M. Champcey in this way?"

The accused rose again; and, making an effort, he said slowly,- "I hated him. Once during the voyage he had threatened to have me put in irons."

"The man lies!" said Daniel.

"Do you hear?" asked the lawyer. "So you will not tell the truth? Well, I will tell it for you. They had hired you to kill Lieut. Champcey, and you wanted to earn your money. You got a certain sum of money in advance; and you were to receive a larger sum after his death."

"I swear"- "Don't swear! The sum in your possession, which you cannot account for, is positive proof of what I say."

"Alas! I possess nothing. You may inquire. You may order a search."

Under the impa.s.sive mask of the lawyer, a certain degree of excitement could at this moment be easily discerned. The time had come to strike a decisive blow, and to judge of the value of his system of induction. Instead, therefore, of replying to the prisoner, he turned to the gendarmes who were present and said to them,- "Take the prisoner into the next room. Strip him, and examine all his clothes carefully: see to it that there is nothing hid in the lining."

The gendarmes advanced to seize the prisoner, when he suddenly jumped up, and said in a tone of ill-constrained rage,- "No need for that! I have three one thousand-franc-notes sewn into the lining of my trousers."

This time the pride of success got completely the better of the imperturbable coldness of the magistrate. He uttered a low cry of satisfaction, and could not refrain from casting a look of triumph at Daniel and the doctor, which said clearly,- "Well? What did I tell you?"

It was for a second only; the next instant his features resumed their icy immobility; and, turning to the accused, he said in a tone of command,- "Hand me the notes!"

Crochard did not stir; but his livid countenance betrayed the fierce suffering he endured. Certainly, at this moment, he did not play a part. To take from him his three thousand francs, the price of the meanest and most execrable crime; the three thousand francs for the sake of which he had risked the scaffold,-this was like tearing his entrails from him.

Like an enraged brute who sees that the enemy is all-powerful, he gathered all his strength, and, with a furious look, glanced around the room to see if he could escape anywhere, asking himself, perhaps, upon which of the men he ought to throw himself for the purpose.

"The notes!" repeated the inexorable lawyer. "Must I order force to be used?"

Convinced of the uselessness of resistance, and of the folly of any attempt at escape, the wretch hung his head.

"But I cannot undo the seams of my trousers with my nails," he said. "Let them give me a knife or a pair of scissors."

They were careful not to do so. But, at a sign given by the magistrate, one of the gendarmes approached, and, drawing a penknife from his pocket, ripped the seam at the place which the prisoner pointed out. A genuine convulsion of rage seized the a.s.sa.s.sin, when a little paper parcel appeared, folded up, and compressed to the smallest possible size. By a very curious phenomenon, which is, however, quite frequently observed in criminals, he was far more concerned about his money than about his life, which was in such imminent danger.

"That is my money!" he raged. "No one has a right to take it from me. It is infamous to ill use a man who has been unfortunate, and to rob him."

The magistrate, no doubt quite accustomed to such scenes, did not even listen to Crochard, but carefully opened the packet. It contained three notes of a thousand francs each, wrapped up in a sheet of letter-paper, which was all greasy, and worn out in the folds. The bank-notes had nothing peculiar; but on the sheet of paper, traces could be made out of lines of writing; and at least two words were distinctly legible,-University and Street.

"What paper is this, Crochard?" asked the lawyer.

"I don't know. I suppose I picked it up somewhere."

"What? Are you going to lie again? What is the use? Here is evidently the address of some one who lives in University Street."

Daniel was trembling on his bed.

"Ah, sir!" he exclaimed, "I used to live in University Street, Paris."

A slight blush pa.s.sed over the lawyer's face, a sign of unequivocal satisfaction in him. He uttered half loud, as if replying to certain objections in his own mind,- "Everything is becoming clear."

And yet, to the great surprise of his listeners, he abandoned this point; and, returning to the prisoner, he asked him,- "So you acknowledge having received money for the murder of Lieut. Champcey?"

"I never said so."

"No; but the three thousand francs found concealed on your person say so very clearly. From whom did you receive this money?"

"From n.o.body. They are my savings."

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders; and, looking very sternly at Crochard, he said,- "I have before compelled you to make a certain confession. I mean to do so again and again. You will gain nothing, believe me, by struggling against justice; and you cannot save the wretches who tempted you to commit this crime. There is only one way left to you, if you wish for mercy; and that is frankness. Do not forget that!"

The a.s.sa.s.sin was, perhaps, better able to appreciate the importance of such advice than anybody else there present. Still he remained silent for more than a minute, shaken by a kind of nervous tremor, as if a terrible struggle was going on in his heart. He was heard to mutter,- "I do not denounce anybody. A bargain is a bargain. I am not a tell- tale."

Then, all of a sudden, making up his mind, and showing himself just the man the magistrate had expected to find, he said with a cynic laugh,- "Upon my word, so much the worse for them! Since I am in the trap, let the others be caught as well! Besides, who would have gotten the big prize, if I had succeeded? Not I, most a.s.suredly; and yet it was I who risked most. Well, then, the man who hired me to 'do the lieutenant's business' is a certain Justin Cheva.s.sat."

The most intense disappointment seized both Daniel and the surgeon. This was not the name they had been looking for with such deep anxiety.

"Don't you deceive me, Crochard?" asked the lawyer, who alone had been able to conceal all he felt.

"You may take my head if I lie!"

Did he tell the truth? The lawyer thought he did; for, turning to Daniel, he asked,- "Do you know anybody by the name of Cheva.s.sat, M. Champcey?"

"No. It is the first time in my life I hear that name."

"Perhaps that Cheva.s.sat was only an agent," suggested the doctor.

"Yes, that may be," replied the lawyer; "although, in such matters, people generally do their own work."

And, continuing his examination, he asked the accused,- "Who is this Justin Cheva.s.sat?"

"One of my friends."

"A friend richer than yourself, I should think?"

"As to that-why, yes; since he has always plenty of money in his pockets, dresses in the last fashion, and drives his carriage."

"What is he doing? What is his profession?"

"Ah! as to that, I know nothing about it. I never asked him, and he never told me. I once said to him, 'Do you know you look like a prodigiously lucky fellow?' And he replied, 'Oh, not as much so as you think;' but that is all."

"Where does he live?"

"In Paris, Rue Louis, 39."

"Do you write to him there? For I dare say you have written to him since you have been in Saigon."

"I send my letters to M. X. O. X. 88."

It became evident now, that, so far from endeavoring to save his accomplices, Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, would do all he could to aid justice in discovering them. He began to show the system which the wretch was about to adopt,-to throw all the responsibility and all the odium of the crime on the man who had hired him, and to appear the poor devil, succ.u.mbing to dest.i.tution when he was tempted and dazzled by such magnificent promises, that he had not the strength to resist. The lawyer continued,- "Where and how did you make the acquaintance of this Justin Cheva.s.sat?"

"I made his acquaintance at the galleys."

"Ah! that is becoming interesting. And do you know for what crime he had been condemned?"

"For forgery, I believe, and also for theft."

"And what was he doing before he was condemned?"

"He was employed by a banker, or perhaps as cashier in some large establishment. At all events, he had money to handle; and it stuck to his fingers."

"I am surprised, as you are so well informed with regard to this man's antecedents, that you should know nothing of his present means of existence."

"He has money, plenty of money; that is all I know."

"Have you lost sight of him?"

"Why, yes. Cheva.s.sat was set free long before I was. I believe he was pardoned; and I had not met him for more than fifteen years."

"How did you find him again?"

"Oh! by the merest chance, and a very bad chance for me; since, but for him, I would not be here."

XXVI.

Never would a stranger who should have suddenly come into Daniel's chamber, upon seeing Crochard's att.i.tude, have imagined that the wretch was accused of a capital crime, and was standing there before a magistrate, in presence of the man whom he had tried three times to a.s.sa.s.sinate.

Quite at home in the law, as far as it was studied at the galleys, he had instantly recognized that his situation was by no means so desperate as he had at first supposed; that, if the jury rendered a verdict of guilty of death, it would be against the instigator of the crime, and that he would probably get off with a few years' penal servitude.

Hence he had made up his mind about his situation with that almost b.e.s.t.i.a.l indifference which characterizes people who are ready for everything, and prepared for everything. He had recovered from that stupor which the discovery of his crime had produced in him, and from the rage in which he had been thrown by the loss of his bank-notes. Now there appeared, under the odious personage of the murderer, the pretentious and ridiculous orator of the streets and prisons, who is accustomed to make himself heard, and displays his eloquence with great pride.

He a.s.sumed a studied position; and it was evident that he was preparing himself for his speech, although, afterwards, a good many words escaped him which are found in no dictionary, but belong to the jargon of the lowest cla.s.ses, and serve to express the vilest sentiments.

"It was," he began, "a Friday, an unlucky day,-a week, about, before 'The Conquest' sailed. It might have been two o'clock. I had eaten nothing; I had not a cent in my pockets and I was walking along the boulevards, loafing, and thinking how I could procure some money.