"That is a question."

"And I should have injured my reputation very seriously; for they would have called me one of those timid magistrates who are frightened at a nothing."

"That is as good a reputation as some others," broke in the commonwealth attorney.

He had vowed he would answer only in monosyllables; but his anger made him forget his oath. He added in a very severe tone,--

"Another man would not have been bent exclusively upon proving that M.

de Boiscoran was guilty."

"I certainly have proved it."

"Another man would have tried to solve the mystery."

"But I have solved it, I should think."

M. Daubigeon bowed ironically, and said,--

"I congratulate you. It must be delightful to know the secret of all things, only you may be mistaken. You are an excellent hand at such investigations; but I am an older man than you in the profession. The more I think in this case, the less I understand it. If you know every thing so perfectly well, I wish you would tell me what could have been the motive for the crime, for, after all, we do not run the risk of losing our head without some very powerful and tangible purpose. Where was Jacques's interest? You will tell me he hated Count Claudieuse. But is that an answer. Come, go for a moment to your own conscience. But stop! No one likes to do that."

M. Galpin was beginning to regret that he had ever come. He had hoped to find M. Daubigeon quite penitent, and here he was worse than ever.

"The Court of Inquiry has felt no such scruples," he said dryly.

"No; but the jury may feel some. They are, occasionally, men of sense."

"The jury will condemn M. de Boiscoran without hesitation."

"I would not swear to that."

"You would if you knew who will plead."

"Oh!"

"The prosecution will employ M. Gransiere!"

"Oh, oh!"

"You will not deny that he is a first-cla.s.s man?"

The magistrate was evidently becoming angry; his ears reddened up; and in the same proportion M. Daubigeon regained his calmness.

"G.o.d forbid that I should deny M. Gransiere's eloquence. He is a powerful speaker, and rarely misses his man. But then, you know, cases are like books: they have their luck or ill luck. Jacques will be well defended."

"I am not afraid of M. Magloire."

"But Mr. Folgat?"

"A young man with no weight. I should be far more afraid of M. Lachant."

"Do you know the plan of the defence?"

This was evidently the place where the shoe pinched; but M. Galpin took care not to let it be seen, and replied,--

"I do not. But that does not matter. M. de Boiscoran's friends at first thought of making capital out of Cocoleu; but they have given that up.

I am sure of that! The police-agent whom I have charged to keep his eyes on the idiot tells me that Dr. Seignebos does not trouble himself about the man any more."

M. Daubigeon smiled sarcastically, and said, much more for the purpose of teasing his visitor than because he believed it himself,--

"Take care! do not trust appearances. You have to do with very clever people. I always told you Cocoleu is probably the mainspring of the whole case. The very fact that M. Gransiere will speak ought to make you tremble. If he should not succeed, he would, of course, blame you, and never forgive you in all his life. Now, you know he may fail. 'There is many a slip between the cup and the lip.'

"And I am disposed to think with Villon,--

'Nothing is so certain as uncertain things.'"

M. Galpin could tell very well that he should gain nothing by prolonging the discussion, and so he said,--

"Happen what may, I shall always know that my conscience supports me."

Then he made great haste to take leave, lest an answer should come from M. Daubigeon. He went out; and as he descended the stairs, he said to himself,--

"It is losing time to reason with that old fogy who sees in the events of the day only so many opportunities for quotations."

But he struggled in vain against his own feelings; he had lost his self-confidence. M. Daubigeon had revealed to him a new danger which he had not foreseen. And what a danger!--the resentment of one of the most eminent men of the French bar, one of those bitter, bilious men who never forgive. M. Galpin had, no doubt, thought of the possibility of failure, that is to say, of an acquittal; but he had never considered the consequences of such a check.

Who would have to pay for it? The prosecuting attorney first and foremost, because, in France, the prosecuting attorney makes the accusation a personal matter, and considers himself insulted and humiliated, if he misses his man.

Now, what would happen in such a case?

M. Gransiere, no doubt, would hold him responsible. He would say,--

"I had to draw my arguments from your part of the work. I did not obtain a condemnation, because your work was imperfect. A man like myself ought not to be exposed to such an humiliation, and, least of all, in a case which is sure to create an immense sensation. You do not understand your business."

Such words were a public disgrace. Instead of the hoped-for promotion, they would bring him an order to go into exile, to Corsica, or to Algiers.

M. Galpin shuddered at the idea. He saw himself buried under the ruins of his castles in Spain. And, unluckily, he went once more over all the papers of the investigation, a.n.a.lyzing the evidence he had, like a soldier, who, on the eve of a battle, furbishes up his arms. However, he only found one objection, the same which M. Daubigeon had made,--what interest could Jacques have had in committing so great a crime?

"There," he said, "is evidently the weak part of the armor; and I would do well to point it out to M. Gransiere. Jacques's counsel are capable of making that the turning-point of their plea."

And, in spite of all he had said to M. Daubigeon, he was very much afraid of the counsel for the defence. He knew perfectly well the prestige which M. Magloire derived from his integrity and disinterestedness. It was no secret to him, that a cause which M.

Magloire espoused was at once considered a good cause. They said of him,--

"He may be mistaken; but whatever he says he believes." He could not but have a powerful influence, therefore, not on judges who came into court with well-established opinions, but with jurymen who are under the influence of the moment, and may be carried off by the eloquence of a speech. It is true, M. Magloire did not possess that burning eloquence which thrills a crowd, but M. Folgat had it, and in an uncommon degree.

M. Galpin had made inquiries; and one of his Paris friends had written to him,--

"Mistrust Folgat. He is a far more dangerous logician than Lachant, and possesses the same skill in troubling the consciences of jurymen, in moving them, drawing tears from them, and forcing them into an acquittal. Mind, especially, any incidents that may happen during the trial; for he has always some kind of surprise in reserve."

"These are my adversaries," thought M. Galpin. "What surprise, I wonder, is there in store for me? Have they really given up all idea of using Cocoleu?"