“Chevassat cheat me! _cochonnere_! I would have--but no; he knows me; he
would never have dared”--
The magistrate had caught the prisoner’s eye, and, fixing him sternly,
he said good-naturedly,--
“Why did you tell me, then, that that man magnetized you, and frightened
you out of your wits?”
The wretch had gone into the snare, and, instead of answering, hung his
head, and tried to sob.
“Repentance is all very well,” said the lawyer, who did not seem to
be in the least touched; “but just now it would be better for you
to explain how your trip to Cochin China was arranged. Come, collect
yourself, and give us the details.”
“As to that,” he resumed his account, “you see Chevassat explained to
me everything at breakfast; and the very same day he gave me the address
which you found on the paper in which the bank-notes were wrapped up.”
“What did he give you M. Champcey’s address for?”
“So that I might know him personally.”
“Well, go on.”
“At first, when I heard he was a lieutenant in the navy, I said I must
give it up, knowing as I did that with such men there is no trifling.
But Chevassat scolded me so terribly, and called me such hard names,
that I finally got mad, and promised everything.
“‘Besides,’ he said to me, ‘listen to my plan. The navy department wants
mechanics to go to Saigon. They have not gotten their full number yet:
so you go and offer yourself. They will accept you, and even pay your
journey to Rochefort: a boat will carry you out to the roadstead on
board the frigate “Conquest.” Do you know whom you will find on board?
Our man, Lieut. Champcey. Well, now, I tell you! that if any accident
should happen to him, either during the voyage, or at Saigon,
that accident will pass unnoticed, as a letter passes through the
post-office.’
“Yes, that’s what he told me, every word of it; and I think I hear him
now. And I--I was so completely bewildered, that I had nothing to say in
return. However, there was one thing which troubled me; and I thought,
‘Well, after all, they won’t accept me at the navy department, with my
antecedents.’
“But, when I mentioned the difficulty to Chevassat, he laughed. Oh, but
he laughed! it made me mad.
“‘You are surely more of a fool than I thought,’ he said. ‘Are your
condemnations written on your face? No, I should say. Well, as you will
exhibit your papers in excellent order, they will take you.’
“I opened my eyes wide, and said, ‘That’s all very pretty, what you say;
but the mischief is, that, as I have not worked at my profession
for more than fifteen years, I have no papers at all.’ He shrugs his
shoulders, and says, ‘You shall have your papers.’ That worries me; and
I reply, ‘If I have to steal somebody’s papers, and change my name,
I won’t do it.’ But the brigand had his notions. ‘You shall keep your
name,’ he said, touching me on the shoulder. ‘You shall always remain
Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet; and you shall have your papers as engraver
on metal as perfect as anybody can have them.’
“And, to be sure, the second day after that he gave me a set of papers,
signatures, seals, all in perfect order.”
“The papers found in your room, you mean?” asked the lawyer.
“Exactly.”
“Where did Chevassat get them?”
“Get them? Why, he had made them himself. He can do anything he chooses
with his pen, the scamp! If he takes it into his head to imitate your
own handwriting, you would never suspect it.”
Daniel and the old surgeon exchanged glances. This was a strong and very
important point in connection with the forged letter that had been sent
to the navy department, and claimed to be signed by Daniel himself. The
magistrate was as much struck by the fact as they were; but his features
remained unchanged; and, pursuing his plan in spite of all the incidents
of the examination, he asked,--
“These papers caused no suspicion?”
“None whatever. I had only to show them, and they accepted me. Besides,
Chevassat said he would enlist some people in my behalf; perhaps I had
been specially recommended.”
“And thus you sailed?”
“Yes. They gave me my ticket, some money for travelling expenses;
and, five days after my meeting with Chevassat, I was on board ‘The
Conquest.’ Lieut. Champcey was not there. Ah! I began to hope he would
not go out on the expedition at all. Unfortunately, he arrived forty-
eight hours afterwards, and we sailed at once.”
The marvellous coolness of the wretch showed clearly under his affected
trouble; and, while it confounded Daniel and the old surgeon, it
filled the faithful Lefloch with growing indignation. He spoke of this
abominable plot, of this assassination which had been so carefully
plotted, and of the price agreed upon, and partly paid in advance, as if
the whole had been a fair commercial operation.
“Now, Crochard,” said the lawyer, “I cannot impress it too strongly on
your mind, how important it is for your own interests that you should
tell the truth. Remember, all your statements will be verified. Do you
know whether Chevassat lives in Paris under an assumed name?”
“No, sir! I have always heard him called Chevassat by everybody.”
“What? By everybody?”
“Well, I mean his concierge, his servants.”
The magistrate seemed for a moment to consider how he should frame his
next question; and then he asked, all of a sudden,--
“Suppose that the--accident, as you call it, had succeeded, you would
have taken ship; you would have arrived in France; you reach Paris; how
would you have found Chevassat to claim your six thousand francs?”
“I should have gone to his house, where I breakfasted with him; and, if
he had left, the concierge would have told me where he lived now.”
“Then you really think you saw him at his own rooms? Consider. If you
left him only for a couple of hours, between the time when you first
met him and the visit you paid him afterwards, he might very well have
improvised a new domicile for himself.”
“Ah! I did not lie, sir. When dinner was over, I had lost my
consciousness, and I did not get wide awake again till noon on the next
day. Chevassat had the whole night and next morning.”
Then, as a suspicion suddenly flashed through Crochard’s mind, he
exclaimed,--
“Ah, the brigand! Why did he urge me never to write to him otherwise
than ‘to be called for’?”
The magistrate had turned to his clerk.
“Go down,” he said, “and see if any of the merchants in town have a
Paris Directory.”
The clerk went off like an arrow, and appeared promptly back again with
the volume in question. The magistrate hastened to look up the address
given by the prisoner, and found it entered thus: “_Langlois_, sumptuous
apartments for families and single persons. Superior attendance.”
“I was almost sure of it,” he said to himself.
Then handing Daniel the paper on which the words “University” and
“Street” could be deciphered, he asked,--
“Do you know that handwriting, M. Champcey?”
Too full of the lawyer’s shrewd surmises to express any surprise, Daniel
looked at the words, and said coolly,--
“That is Maxime de Brevan’s handwriting.”
A rush of blood colored instantly the pale face of Crochard. He was
furious at the idea of having been duped by his accomplice, by the
instigator of the crime he had committed, and for which he would
probably never have received the promised reward.
“Ah, the brigand!” he exclaimed. “And I, who was very near not
denouncing him at all!”
A slight smile passed over the lawyer’s face. His end had been attained.
He had foreseen this wrath on the part of the prisoner; he had prepared
it carefully, and caused it to break out fully; for he knew it would
bring him full light on the whole subject.
“To cheat me, me!” Crochard went on with extraordinary vehemence,--“to
cheat a friend, an old comrade! Ah the rascal! But he sha’n’t go to
paradise, if I can help it! Let them cut my throat, I don’t mind it; I
shall be quite content even, provided I see his throat cut first.”
“He has not even been arrested yet.”
“But nothing is easier than to catch him, sir. He must be uneasy at not
hearing from me; and I am sure he is going every day to the post-office
to inquire if there are no letters yet for M. X. O. X. 88. I can write
to him. Do you want me to write to him? I can tell him that I have once
more missed it, and that I have been caught even, but that the police
have found out nothing, and that they have set me free again. I am sure,
after that, the scamp will keep quiet; and the police will have nothing
to do but to take the omnibus, and arrest him at his lodgings.”
The magistrate had allowed the prisoner to give free vent to his fury,
knowing full well by experience how intensely criminals hate those of
their accomplices by whom they find themselves betrayed. And he was in
hopes that the rage of this man might suggest a new idea, or furnish him
with new facts. When he saw he was not likely to gain much, he said,--
“Justice cannot stoop to such expedients.” Then he added, seeing how
disappointed Crochard looked,--
“You had better try and recollect all you can. Have you forgotten
or concealed nothing that might assist us in carrying out this
examination?”
“No; I think I have told you every thing.”
“You cannot furnish any additional evidence of the complicity of Justin
Chevassat, of his efforts to tempt you to commit this crime, or of the
forgery he committed in getting up a false set of papers for you?”
“No! Ah, he is a clever one, and leaves no trace behind him that could
convict him. But, strong as he is, if we could be confronted in court,
I’d undertake, just by looking at him, to get the truth out of him
somehow.”
“You shall be confronted, I promise you.”
The prisoner seemed to be amazed.
“Are you going to send for Chevassat?” he asked.
“No. You will be sent home, to be tried there.”
A flash of joy shone in the eyes of the wretch. He knew the voyage would
not be a pleasant one; but the prospect of being tried in France was
as good as an escape from capital punishment to his mind. Besides, he
delighted in advance in the idea of seeing Chevassat in court, seated by
his side as a fellow-prisoner.
“Then,” he asked again, “they will send me home?”
“On the first national vessel that leaves Saigon.”
The magistrate went and sat down at the table where the clerk was
writing, and rapidly ran his eye over the long examination, seeing if
anything had been overlooked. When he had done, he said,--
“Now give me as accurate a description of Justin Chevassat as you can.”
Crochard passed his hand repeatedly over his forehead; and then, his
eyes staring at empty space, and his neck stretched out, as if he saw a
phantom which he had suddenly called up, he said,--
“Chevassat is a man of my age; but he does not look more than twenty
seven or eight. That is what made me hesitate at first, when I met him
on the boulevard. He is a handsome fellow, very well made, and wears
all his beard. He looks clever, with soft eyes; and his face inspires
confidence at once.”
“Ah! that is Maxime all over,” broke in Daniel.
And, suddenly remembering something, he called Lefloch. The sailor
started, and almost mechanically assumed the respectful position of a
sailor standing before his officer.
“Lieutenant?” he said.
“Since I have been sick, they have brought part of my baggage here; have
they not?”
“Yes, lieutenant, all of it.”
“Well. Go and look for a big red book with silver clasps. You have no
doubt seen me look at it often.”
“Yes, lieutenant; and I know where it is.”
And he immediately opened one of the trunks that were piled up in a
corner of the room, and took from it a photograph album, which, upon a
sign from Daniel, he handed to the lawyer.
“Will you please,” said Daniel at the same time, “ask the prisoner, if,
among the sixty or seventy portraits in that book, he knows any one?”
The album was handed to Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, who turned over
leaf after leaf, till all of a sudden, and almost beside himself, he
cried out,--
“Here he is, Justin Chevassat! Oh! that’s he, no doubt about it.”