“Before we attempt any thing, we must know how the matter stands. You
will leave for Sauveterre this evening.”
“Alone?”
“No. I will find some able lawyer,--a reliable jurist, who is not a
politician,--if such a one can be found nowadays. He will tell you what
to do, and will write to me, so that I can do here whatever may be
best. Dionysia is right. Jacques must be the victim of some abominable
intrigue. Nevertheless, we shall save him; but we must keep cool,
perfectly cool.”
And as he said this he rang the bell so violently, that a number of
servants came rushing in at once.
“Quick,” he said; “send for my lawyer, Mr. Chapelain. Take a carriage.”
The servant who took the order was so expeditious, that, in less than
twenty minutes, M. Chapelain arrived.
“Ah! we want all your experience, my friend,” said the marquis to him.
“Look here. Read these telegrams.”
Fortunately, the lawyer had such control over himself, that he did not
betray what he felt; for he believed Jacques guilty, knowing as he did
how reluctant courts generally are to order the arrest of a suspected
person.
“I know the man for the marchioness,” he said at last.
“Ah!”
“A young man whose modesty alone has kept him from distinguishing
himself so far, although I know he is one of the best jurists at the
bar, and an admirable speaker.”
“What is his name?”
“Manuel Folgat. I shall send him to you at once.”
Two hours later, M. Chapelain’s _protégé_ appeared at the house of
the Boiscorans. He was a man of thirty-one or thirty-two, with large,
wide-open eyes, whose whole appearance was breathing intelligence and
energy.
The marquis was pleased with him, and after having told him all he knew
about Jacques’s position, endeavored to inform him as to the people
down at Sauveterre,--who would be likely to be friends, and who enemies,
recommending to him, above all, to trust M. Seneschal, an old friend of
the family, and a most influential man in that community.
“Whatever is humanly possible shall be done, sir,” said the lawyer.
That same evening, at fifteen minutes past eight, the Marchioness of
Boiscoran and Manuel Folgat took their seats in the train for Orleans.