The magistrate shook his head gravely. He said,--

"You are not telling the truth."

"Sir!"

"Your boots there at the foot of the bed speak against you. Where does the mud come from with which they are covered?"

"The meadows around Boiscoran are very wet."

"Do not attempt to deny it. You have been seen there."

"But"--

"Young Ribot met you at the moment when you were crossing the ca.n.a.l."

M. de Boiscoran made no reply.

"Where were you going?" asked the magistrate.

For the first time a real embarra.s.sment appeared in the features of the accused,--the embarra.s.sment of a man who suddenly sees an abyss opening before him. He hesitated; and, seeing that it was useless to deny, he said,--

"I was going to Brechy."

"To whom?"

"To my wood-merchant, who has bought all this year's wood. I did not find him at home, and came back on the high road."

M. Galpin stopped him by a gesture.

"That is not so," he said severely.

"Oh!"

"You never went to Brechy."

"I beg your pardon."

"And the proof is, that, about eleven o'clock, you were hurriedly crossing the forest of Rochepommier."

"I?"

"Yes, you! And do not say No; for there are your trousers torn to pieces by the thorns and briers through which you must have made your way."

"There are briers elsewhere as well as in the forest."

"To be sure; but you were seen there."

"By whom?"

"By Gaudry the poacher. And he saw so much of you, that he could tell us in what a bad humor you were. You were very angry. You were talking loud, and pulling the leaves from the trees."

As he said so, the magistrate got up and took the shooting-jacket, which was lying on a chair not far from him. He searched the pockets, and pulled out of one a handful of leaves.

"Look here! you see, Gaudry has told the truth."

"There are leaves everywhere," said M. de Boiscoran half aloud.

"Yes; but a woman, Mrs. Courtois, saw you come out of the forest of Rochepommier. You helped her to put a sack of flour on her a.s.s, which she could not lift alone. Do you deny it? No, you are right; for, look here! on the sleeve of your coat I see something white, which, no doubt, is flour from her bag."

M. de Boiscoran hung his head. The magistrate went on,--

"You confess, then, that last night, between ten and eleven you were at Valpinson?"

"No, sir, I do not."

"But this cartridge-case which I have just shown you was picked up at Valpinson, close by the ruins of the old castle."

"Well, sir, have I not told you before that I have seen a hundred times children pick up these cases to play with? Besides, if I had really been at Valpinson, why should I deny it?"

M. Galpin rose to his full height, and said in the most solemn manner,--

"I am going to tell you why! Last night, between ten and eleven, Valpinson was set on fire; and it has been burnt to the ground."

"Oh!"

"Last night Count Claudieuse was fired at twice."

"Great G.o.d!"

"And it is thought, in fact there are strong reasons to think, that you, Jacques de Boiscoran, are the incendiary and the a.s.sa.s.sin."

IX.

M. de Boiscoran looked around him like a man who has suddenly been seized with vertigo, pale, as if all his blood had rushed to his heart.

He saw nothing but mournful, dismayed faces.

Anthony, his old trusted servant, was leaning against the doorpost, as if he feared to fall. The clerk was mending his pen in the air, overcome with amazement. M. Daubigeon hung his head.

"This is horrible!" he murmured: "this is horrible!"

He fell heavily into a chair, pressing his hands on his heart, as if to keep down the sobs that threatened to rise. M. Galpin alone seemed to remain perfectly cool. The law, which he imagined he was representing in all its dignity, knows nothing of emotions. His thin lips even trembled a little, as if a slight smile was about to burst forth: it was the cold smile of the ambitious man, who thinks he has played his little part well.

Did not every thing tend to prove that Jacques de Boiscoran was the guilty man, and that, in the alternative between a friend, and an opportunity of gaining high distinction, he had chosen well? After the silence of a minute, which seemed to be a century, he went and stood, with arms crossed on his chest, before the accused, and asked him,--

"Do you confess?"