Chapter II.30
"What scene? What witness? That is what I wanted to hear from you, and why I was waiting so impatiently for you," said Dr. Seignebos to M. Folgat. "I have seen and stated the results: now it is for you to give me the cause."
Nevertheless, he did not seem to be in the least surprised by what the young advocate told him of Jacques's desperate enterprise, and of the tragic result. As soon as he had heard it all, he exclaimed,--
"I thought so: yes, upon my word! By racking my brains all night long, I had very nearly guessed the whole story. And who, in Jacques's place, would not have been desirous to make one last effort? But certainly fate is against him."
"Who knows?" said M. Folgat. And, without giving the doctor time to reply, he went on,--
"In what are our chances worse than they were before? In no way. We can to-day, just as well as we could yesterday, lay our hands upon those proofs which we know do exist, and which would save us. Who tells us that at this moment Sir Francis Burnett and Suky Wood may not have been found? Is your confidence in Goudar shaken?"
"Oh, as to that, not at all! I saw him this morning at the hospital, when I paid my usual visit; and he found an opportunity to tell me that he was almost certain of success."
"Well?"
"I am persuaded Cocoleu will speak. But will he speak in time? That is the question. Ah, if we had but a month's time, I should say Jacques is safe. But our hours are counted, you know. The court will be held next week. I am told the presiding judge has already arrived, and M. Gransiere has engaged rooms at the hotel. What do you mean to do if nothing new occurs in the meantime?"
"M. Magloire and I will obstinately adhere to our plan of defence."
"And if Count Claudieuse keeps his promise, and declares that he recognized Jacques in the act of firing at him?"
"We shall say he is mistaken." "And Jacques will be condemned." "Well," said the young advocate.
And lowering his voice, as if he did not wish to be overheard, he added,--
"Only the sentence will not be a fatal sentence. Ah, do not interrupt me, doctor, and upon your life, upon Jacques's life, do not say a word of what I am going to tell you. A suspicion which should cross M. Galpin's mind would destroy my last hope; for it would give him an opportunity of correcting a blunder which he has committed, and which justifies me in saying to you, 'Even if the count should give evidence, even if sentence should be passed, nothing would be lost yet.' "
He had become animated; and his accent and his gestures made you feel that he was sure of himself.
"No," he repeated, "nothing would be lost; and then we should have time before us, while waiting for a second trial, to hunt up our witnesses, and to force Cocoleu to tell the truth. Let the count say what he chooses, I like it all the better: I shall thus be relieved of my last scruples. It seemed to me odious to betray the countess, because I thought the most cruelly punished would be the count. But, if the count attacks us, we are on the defence; and public opinion will be on our side. More than that, they will admire us for having sacrificed our honor to a woman's honor, and for having allowed ourselves to be condemned rather than to give up the name of her who has given herself to us."
The physician did not seem to be convinced; but the young advocate paid no attention. He went on,--
"No, our success in a second trial would be almost certain. The scene in Mautrec Street has been seen by a witness: his iron-shod shoes have left, as you say, their marks under the linden-trees nearest to the parlor-window, and little Martha has watched his movements. Who can this witness be unless it is Trumence? Well, we shall lay hands upon him. He was standing so that he could see every thing, and hear every word. He will tell what he saw and what he heard. He will tell how Count Claudieuse called out to M. de Boiscoran, 'No, I do not want to kill you! I have a surer vengeance than that: you shall go to the galleys.' "
Dr. Seignebos sadly shook his head as he said,--
"I hope your expectations may be realized, my dear sir."
But they came again for the doctor the third time to-day. Shaking hands with the young advocate, he parted with his young friend, who after a short visit to M. Magloire, whom he thought it his duty to keep well informed of all that was going on, hastened to the house of M. de Chandore. As soon as he looked into Dionysia's face, he knew that he had nothing to tell her; that she knew all the facts, and how unjust her suspicions had been.
"What did I tell you, madam?" he said very modestly.
She blushed, ashamed at having let him see the secret doubts which had troubled her so sorely, and, instead of replying, she said,--
"There are some letters for you, M. Folgat. They have carried them up stairs to your room."
He found two letters,--one from Mrs. Goudar, the other from the agent who had been sent to England.
The former was of no importance. Mrs. Goudar only asked him to send a note, which she enclosed, to her husband.
The second, on the other hand, was of the very greatest interest. The agent wrote,--
"Not without great difficulties, and especially not without a heavy outlay of money, I have at length discovered Sir Francis Burnett's brother in London, the former cashier of the house of Gilmour and Benson.
"Our Sir Francis is not dead. He was sent by his father to Madras, to attend to very important financial matters, and is expected back by the next mail steamer. We shall be informed of his arrival on the very day on which he lands.
"I have had less trouble in discovering Suky Wood's family. They are people very well off, who keep a sailor's tavern in Folkstone. They had news from their daughter about three weeks ago; but, although they profess to be very much attached to her, they could not tell me accurately where she was just now. All they know is, that she has gone to Jersey to act as barmaid in a public house.
"But that is enough for me. The island is not very large; and I know it quite well, having once before followed a notary public there, who had run off with the money of his clients. You may consider Suky as safe.
"When you receive this letter, I shall be on my way to Jersey.
"Send me money there to the Golden Apple Hotel, where I propose to lodge. Life is amazingly dear in London; and I have very little left of the sum you gave me on parting."
Thus, in this direction, at least, every thing was going well.
Quite elated by this first success, M. Folgat put a thousand-franc note into an envelope, directed it as desired, and sent it at once to the post-office. Then he asked M. de Chandore to lend him his carriage, and went out to Boiscoran.
He wanted to see Michael, the tenant's son, who had been so prompt in finding Cocoleu, and in bringing him into town. He found him, fortunately, just coming home, bringing in a cart loaded with straw; and, taking him aside, he asked him,--
"Will you render M. de Boiscoran a great service?"
"What must I do?" replied the young man in a tone of voice which said, better than all protestations could have done, that he was ready to do any thing.
"Do you know Trumence?"
"The former basket-weaver of Tremblade?" "Exactly."
"Upon my word, don't I know him? He has stolen apples enough from me, the scamp! But I don't blame him so much, after all; for he is a good fellow, in spite of that."
"He was in prison at Sauveterre."
"Yes, I know; he had broken down a gate near Brechy and"-- "Well, he has escaped."
"Ah, the scamp!"
"And we must find him again. They have put the gendarmes on his track; but will they catch him?"
Michael burst out laughing.
"Never in his life!" he said. "Trumence will make his way to Oleron, where he has friends; the gendarmes will be after him in vain."
M. Folgat slapped Michael amicably on the shoulder, and said,--
"But you, if you choose? Oh! do not look angry at me. We do not want to have him arrested. All I want you to do is to hand him a