“I resume the account. The statements of the accused since his arrest
are too insignificant to be here reported. There is only one peculiarity
of importance for the prosecution, which may possibly serve to enable us
to trace the instigators of this crime. On three occasions, and in the
presence of, at least, three witnesses each time, Crochard has used, in
almost the same terms, these words,--
“‘No one would believe the strange acquaintances one makes in prisons.
You meet there young men of family, who have done a foolish thing,
and lots of people, who, wishing to make a fortune all at once, had no
chance. When they come out from there, many of these fellows get into
very good positions; and then, if you meet them, they don’t know you. I
have known some people there, who now ride in their carriages.’”
The doctor had become silent.
“Oh!” he said half aloud, “might not some of these people whom the
assassin has known in prison have put arms in his hand?”
“That is the very question I asked myself.”
“Because, you see, some of Daniel’s enemies are fearful people; and if
you knew what is in this letter here in my hand, which, no doubt, will
be the cause of that poor boy’s death”--
“Allow me to finish, doctor,” said the man of law. And then, more
rapidly, he went on,--
“Here follows a blank. How the accused lived in Paris, to which he
had returned after his release, is not known. Did he resort to mean
cheating, or to improper enterprises, in order to satisfy his passions?
The prosecution is reduced to conjectures, since Crochard has refused to
give details, and only makes very general statements as to these years.
“This fact only is established, that every thing he took with him when
he left Paris was new,--his tools, the linen in his valise, the clothes
he wore, from the cap on his head to his shoes. Why were they all new?”
As the magistrate had now reached the last line on the first sheet, the
surgeon rose, bowed low, and said,--
“Upon my word, sir, I surrender; and I do begin to hope that Lieut.
Champcey may still be avenged.”
A smile of pleased pride appeared for a moment on the lips of the
lawyer; but assuming his mask of impassiveness instantly again, as if he
had been ashamed of his weakness, he said with delicate irony,--
“I really think human justice may this time reach the guilty. But wait
before you congratulate me.”
The old surgeon was too candid to make even an attempt at concealing his
astonishment.
“What!” he said, “you have more evidence still?”