Within an Inch of His Life by Emile Gaboriau (good summer reads .TXT) 📖

[Examination of the Accused.]

PRESIDENT.—Accused, rise and answer clearly. During the preliminary investigation, you have refused to answer several questions. Now the matter must be cleared up. And I am bound to tell you it is to your interest to answer frankly.

ACCUSED.—No one desires more than I do that the truth be known. I am ready to answer.

P.—Why were you so reticent in your first examination?

A.—I though it important for my interests to answer only in court.

P.—You have heard of what crimes you are accused?

A.—I am innocent. And, first of all, I beg you will allow me to say one thing. The crime committed at Valpinson is an atrocious, cowardly crime; but it is at the same time an absurdly stupid crime, more like the unconscious act of a madman. Now, I have always been looked upon as not lacking exactly in intelligence.

P.—That is a discussion.

A.—Still, Mr. President—

P.—Hereafter you shall have full liberty to state your argument. For the present you must be content to answer the questions which I shall ask you.

A.—I submit.

P.—Were you not soon to be married?

At this question all eyes are turned towards Miss Chandore, who blushes till she is as red as a poppy, but does not cast down her eyes.

A.—(In a low voice.) Yes.

P.—Did you not write to your betrothed a few hours before the crime was committed?

A.—Yes, sir; and I sent her my letter by the son of one of my tenants, Michael.

P.—What did you write to her?

A.—That important business would prevent me from spending the evening with her.

P.—What was that business?

At the moment when the accused opened his lips to reply, the president stopped him by a gesture, and said,—

P.—Take care! You were asked this question during the preliminary investigation, and you replied that you had to go to Brechy to see your wood-merchant.

A.—I did indeed make that reply on the spur of the moment. It was not exact.

P.—Why did you tell a falsehood?

A.—(After an expression of indignation, which was noticed by all.) I could not believe that I was in danger. It seemed to me impossible that I should be reached by an accusation, which nevertheless, has brought me into this court. Hence I did not deem it necessary to make my private affairs public.

P.—But you very soon found out that you were in danger?

A.—Yes, I did.

P.—Why did you not tell the truth then?

A.—Because the magistrate who carried on the investigation had been too intimate a friend of mine to inspire me with confidence.

P.—Explain yourself more fully.

A.—I must ask leave to say no more. I might, in speaking of M. Galpin, be found to be wanting in moderation.

A low murmur accompanies this reply made by the accused.

P.—Such murmurs are improper, and I remind the audience of the respect due to the court.

M. Gransiere, the prosecuting attorney, rises,—

“We cannot tolerate such recriminations against a magistrate who has done his duty nobly, and in spite of the pain it caused him. If the accused had well-founded objections to the magistrate, why did he not make them known? He cannot plead ignorance: he knows the law, he is a lawyer himself. His counsel, moreover, are men of experience.”

M. Magloire replies, in his seat,—

“We were of the opinion that the accused ought to ask for a change of venue. He declined to follow our advice, being confident, as he said, that his cause was a good one.”

M. Gransiere, resuming his seat,—

“The jury will judge of this plea.”

P.—(To the accused.) And now are you ready to tell the truth with regard to that business which prevented you from spending the evening with your betrothed?

A.—Yes, sir. My wedding was to take place at the church in Brechy, and I had to make my arrangements with the priest about the ceremony. I had, besides, to fulfil certain religious duties. The priest at Brechy, who is a friend of mine, will tell you, that, although no day had been fixed, it had been agreed upon between us that I should come to confession on one of the evenings of the week since he insisted upon it.

The audience, which had been expecting some very exciting revelations, seemed to be much disappointed; and ironical laughter was heard in various directions.

P.—(In a severe tone of voice.) This laughter is indecent and objectionable. Sheriff, take out the persons who presume to laugh. And once more I give notice, that, at the first disturbance, I shall order the room to be cleared.

Then, turning again to the accused, he said,—

P.—Go on!

A.—I went therefore to the priest at Brechy, that evening: unluckily there was no one at home at the parsonage when I got there. I was ringing the third or fourth time in vain, when a little peasant-girl came by, who told me that she had just met the priest at the Marshalls’ Cross-roads. I thought at once I would go and meet him, and went in that direction. But I walked more than four miles without meeting him. I thought the girl must have been mistaken, and went home again.

P.—Is that your explanation?

A.—Yes.

P.—And you think it a plausible one?

A.—I have promised to say not what is plausible, but what is true. I may confess, however, that, precisely because the explanation is so simple, I did not venture at first to give it. And yet if no crime had been committed, and I had said the day after, “Yesterday I went to see the priest at Brechy, and did not find him,” who would have seen any thing unnatural in my statement?

P.—And, in order to fulfil so simple a duty, you chose a roundabout way, which is not only troublesome, but actually dangerous, right across the swamps?

A.—I chose the shortest way.

P.—Then, why were you so frightened upon meeting young Ribot at the Seille Canal?

A.—I was not frightened,