“What is the matter, pray?”
The clerk had certainly acted so well, that they could have no secret
from him; and he so was fully committed, that there was no danger in
relying upon his discretion. Still M. Folgat did not dare to mention the
name of the Countess Claudieuse; and he replied evasively,--
“This is the matter: M. de Boiscoran explains fully; but he had no
proofs for his statement, and we are busy collecting proofs.”
Then he went and sat down by M. Magloire, who was already deep in the
papers. With the help of those documents, it was easy to follow step by
step M. Galpin’s work, to see the efforts he had made, and to comprehend
his strategy.
First of all, the two lawyers looked for the papers concerning Cocoleu.
They found none. Of the statement of the idiot on the night of the
fire, of the efforts made since to obtain from him a repetition of this
evidence, of the report of the experts,--of all this there was not a
trace to be found.
M. Galpin dropped Cocoleu. He had a right to do so. The prosecution, of
course, only keeps those witnesses which it thinks useful, and drops all
the others.
“Ah, the scamp is clever!” growled M. Magloire in his disappointment.
It was really very well done. M. Galpin deprived by this step the
defence of one of their surest means, of one of those incidents in a
trial which are apt to affect the mind of the jury so powerfully.
“We can, however, summon him at any time,” said M. Magloire.
They might do so, it is true; but what a difference it would make! If
Cocoleu appeared for M. Galpin, he was a witness for the prosecution,
and the defence could exclaim with indignation,--
“What! You suspect the prisoner upon the evidence of such a creature?”
But, if he had to be summoned by the defence, he became prisoner’s
evidence, that is to say, one of those witnesses whom the jury always
suspect; and then the prosecution would exclaim,--
“What do you hope for from a poor idiot, whose mental condition is such,
that we refused his evidence when it might have been most useful to us?”
“If we have to go into court,” murmured M. Folgat, “here is certainly a
considerable chance of which we are deprived. The whole character of the
case is changed. But, then, how can M. Galpin prove the guilt?”
Oh! in the simplest possible manner. He started from the fact that Count
Claudieuse was able to give the precise hour at which the crime was
committed. Thence he passed on immediately to the deposition of young
Ribot, who had met M. de Boiscoran on his way to Valpinson, crossing the
marshes, before the crime, and to that of Gaudry, who had seen him come
back from Valpinson through the woods, after the crime. Three other
witnesses who had turned up during the investigation confirmed this
evidence; and by these means alone, and by comparing the hours, M.
Galpin succeeded in proving, almost beyond doubt, that the accused had
gone to Valpinson, and nowhere else, and that he had been there at the
time the crime was committed.
What was he doing there?
To this question the prosecution replied by the evidence taken on the
first day of the inquiry, by the water in which Jacques had washed his
hands, the cartridge-case found near the house, and the identity of the
shot extracted from the count’s wounds with those seized with the gun at
Boiscoran.
Every thing was plain, precise, and formidable, admitting of no
discussion, no doubt, no suggestion. It looked like a mathematical
deduction.
“Whether he be innocent or guilty,” said M. Magloire to his young
colleague, “Jacques is lost, if we cannot get hold of some evidence
against the Countess Claudieuse. And even in that case, even if it
should be established that she is guilty, Jacques will always be looked
upon as her accomplice.”
Nevertheless, they spent a part of the night in going over all the
papers carefully, and in studying every point made by the prosecution.
Next morning, about nine o’clock, having had only a few hours’ sleep,
they went together to the prison.