“Explain yourself,” they both said in the same breath.
But the vagrant shook his head, pointing at the gendarmes; and, as a man
who is quite cognizant of all the formalities of the law, he replied,--
“But it is a great secret; and, when one confesses, one does not like
anybody else to hear it but the priest. Besides, I should like my
deposition to be taken down in writing.”
Upon a sign made by M. Galpin, the gendarmes withdrew; and Mechinet took
his seat at a table, with a blank sheet of paper before him.
“Now we can talk,” said Trumence: “that’s the way I like it. I was not
thinking myself of running away. I was pretty well off in jail; winter
is coming, I had not a cent; and I knew, that, if I were retaken, I
should fare rather badly. But M. Jacques de Boiscoran had a notion to
spend a night outside.”
“Mind what you are saying,” M. Galpin broke in severely. “You cannot
play with the law, and go off unpunished.”
“May I die if I do not tell the truth!” cried Trumence. “M. Jacques has
spent a whole night out of jail.”
The magistrate trembled.
“What a story that is!” he said again.
“I have my proof,” replied Trumence coldly, “and you shall hear. Well,
as he wanted to leave, M. Jacques came to me, and we agreed, that in
consideration of a certain sum of money which he has paid me, and of
which you have seen just now all that is left, I should make a hole in
the wall, and that I should run off altogether, while he was to come
back when he had done his business.”
“And the jailer?” asked M. Daubigeon.
Like a true peasant of his promise, Trumence was far too cunning
to expose Blangin unnecessarily. Assuming, therefore, the whole
responsibility of the evasion, he replied,--
“The jailer saw nothing. We had no use for him. Was not I, so to say,
under-jailer? Had not I been charged by you yourself, M. Galpin, with
keeping watch over M. Jacques? Was it not I who opened and locked his
door, who took him to the parlor, and brought him back again?”
That was the exact truth.
“Go on!” said M. Galpin harshly.
“Well,” said Trumence, “every thing was done as agreed upon. One
evening, about nine o’clock, I make my hole in the wall, and here we
are, M. Jacques and I, on the ramparts. There he slips a package of
banknotes into my hand, and tells me to run for it, while he goes about
his business. I thought he was innocent then; but you see I should not
exactly have gone through the fire for him as yet. I said to myself,
that perhaps he was making fun of me, and that, once on the wing, he
would not be such a fool as to go back into the cage. This made me
curious, as he was going off, to see which way he was going,--and there
I was, following him close upon his heels!”
The magistrate and the commonwealth attorney, accustomed as they both
were, by the nature of their profession, to conceal their feelings,
could hardly restrain now,--one, the hope trembling within him, and the
other, the vague apprehensions which began to fill his heart.
Mechinet, who knew already all that was coming, laughed in his sleeve
while his pen was flying rapidly over the paper.
“He was afraid he might be recognized,” continued the vagrant, “and so
M. Jacques had been running ever so fast, keeping close to the wall, and
choosing the narrowest lanes. Fortunately, I have a pair of very good
legs. He goes through Sauveterre like a race-horse; and, when he reaches
Mautrec Street, he begins to ring the bell at a large gate.”
“At Count Claudieuse’s house!”
“I know now what house it was; but I did not know then. Well, he rings.
A servant comes and opens. He speaks to her, and immediately she invites
him in, and that so eagerly, that she forgets to close the gate again.”