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

M. Magloire let them see it clearly, in the most delicate manner, to be sure, but still so as to leave no doubt. He had spent the day in court, and there had heard the opinions of the members of the court, which was by no means favorable to the accused. Under such circumstances, it would have evidently been a grave blunder to yield to Jacques’s wishes, and to apply for a change of venue from M. Galpin to some other magistrate.

“The investigation will last a year,” cried Dionysia, “since M. Galpin is determined to obtain from Jacques the confession of a crime which he has not committed.”

M. Magloire shook his head, and replied,—

“I believe, on the contrary, madam, that the investigation will be very soon concluded.”

“But if Jacques keeps silent?”

“Neither the silence of an accused, nor any other caprice or obstinacy of his, can interfere with the regular process. Called upon to produce his justification, if he refuses to do so, the law proceeds without him.”

“Still, sir, if an accused person has reasons”—

“There are no reasons which can force a man to let himself be accused unjustly. But even that case has been foreseen. The accused is at liberty not to answer a question which may inculpate him. Nemo tenetur prodere se ipsum. But you must admit that such a refusal to answer justifies a judge in believing that the charges are true which the accused does not refute.”

The great calmness of the distinguished lawyer of Sauveterre terrified his listeners more and more, except M. Folgat. When they heard him use all those technical terms, they felt chilled through and through like the friends of a wounded man who hear the grating noise of the surgeon’s knife.

“My son’s situation appears to you very serious, sir?” asked the marchioness in a feeble voice.

“I said it was dangerous, madam.”

“You think, as M. Folgat does, that every day adds to the danger to which he is exposed?”

“I am but too sure of that. And if M. de Boiscoran is really innocent”—

“Ah, M. Magloire!” broke in Dionysia, “how can you, who are a friend of Jacques’s, say so?”

M. Magloire looked at the young girl with an air of deep and sincere pity, and then said,—

“It is precisely because I am his friend, madam, that I am bound to tell you the truth. Yes, I know and I appreciate all the noble qualities which distinguish M. de Boiscoran. I have loved him, and I love him still. But this is a matter which we have to look at with the mind, and not with the heart. Jacques is a man; and he will be judged by men. There is clear, public, and absolute evidence of his guilt on hand. What evidence has he to offer of his innocence? Moral evidence only.”

“O God!” murmured Dionysia.

“I think, therefore, with my honorable brother”—

And M. Magloire bowed to M. Folgat.

“I think, that, if M. de Boiscoran is innocent, he has adopted an unfortunate system. Ah! if luckily there should be an alibi. He ought to make haste, great haste, to establish it. He ought not to allow matters to go on till he is sent up into court. Once there, an accused is three-fourths condemned already.”

For once it looked as if the crimson in M. de Chandore’s cheeks was growing pale.

“And yet,” he exclaimed, “Jacques will not change his system: any one who knows his mulish obstinacy might be quite sure of that.”

“And unfortunately he has made up his mind,” said Dionysia, “as M. Magloire, who knows him so well, will see from this letter of his.”

Until now nothing had been said to let the Sauveterre lawyer suspect that communications had been opened with the prisoner. Now that the letter had been alluded to, it became necessary to take him into confidence. At first he was astonished, then he looked displeased; and, when he had been told every thing, he said,—

“This is great imprudence! This is too daring!”

Then looking at M. Folgat, he added,—

“Our profession has certain rules which cannot be broken without causing trouble. To bribe a clerk, to profit by his weakness and his sympathy”—

The Paris lawyer had blushed imperceptibly. He said,—

“I should never have advised such imprudence; but, when it was once committed, I did not feel bound to insist upon its being abandoned: and even if I should be blamed for it, or more, I mean to profit by it.”

M. Magloire did not reply; but, after having read Jacques’s letter, he said,—

“I am at M. de Boiscoran’s disposal; and I shall go to him as soon as he is no longer in close confinement. I think, as Miss Dionysia does, that he will insist upon saying nothing. However, as we have the means of reaching him by letter,—well, here I am myself ready to profit by the imprudence that has been committed!—beseech him, in the name of his own interest, in the name of all that is dear to him, to speak, to explain, to prove his innocence.”

Thereupon M. Magloire bowed, and withdrew suddenly, leaving his audience in consternation, so very evident was it, that he left so suddenly in order to conceal the painful impression which Jacques’s letter had produced upon him.

“Certainly,” said M. de Chandore, “we will write to him; but we might just as well whistle. He will wait for the end of the investigation.”

“Who knows?” murmured Dionysia.

And, after a moment’s reflection, she added,—

“We can try, however.”

And, without vouchsafing any further explanation, she left the room, and hastened to her chamber to write the following letter:—

“I must speak to you. There is a little gate in our garden which opens upon Charity Lane, I will wait for you there. However late it may be when you get these lines, come!

“DIONYSIA.”

Then having put the note into an envelope, she called the old nurse, who had brought her up, and, with all the recommendations which extreme prudence could suggest, she said to her,—

“You must see to it that M. Mechinet the clerk gets this note to-night. Go! make haste!”

IX.

During the last twenty-four hours, Mechinet had changed so much, that his sisters recognized him no longer. Immediately after Dionysia’s departure, they had come to him, hoping to hear at last what was meant by that mysterious interview; but at the first word he had cried out with a tone of voice which frightened his sisters to death,—