La clique dorée. English

  XXIV.

  As soon as he was alone, the doctor threw himself on his bed; but hecould not sleep. He had never in his life been so much puzzled. Hefelt as if this crime was the result of some terrible but mysteriousintrigue; and the very fact of having, as he fancied, raised a corner ofthe veil, made him burn with the desire to draw it aside altogether.

  "Why," he said to himself, "why might not the scamp whom we hold be theauthor of the other two attempts likewise? There is nothing improbablein that supposition. The man, once engaged, might easily have been puton board 'The Conquest;' and he might have left France saying to himselfthat it would be odd indeed, if during a long voyage, or in a land likethis, he did not find a chance to earn his money without running muchrisk."

  The result of his meditations was, that the chief surgeon appeared, atnine o'clock, at the office of the state attorney. He placed the matterbefore him very fully and plainly; and, an hour afterwards, he crossedthe yard on his way to the prison, accompanied by a magistrate and hisclerk.

  "How is the man the sailors brought here last night?" he asked thejailer.

  "Badly, sir. He would not eat."

  "What did he say when he got here?"

  "Nothing. He seemed to be stupefied."

  "You did not try to make him talk?"

  "Why, yes, a little. He answered that he had done some mischief; that hewas in despair, and wished he were dead."

  The magistrate looked at the surgeon as if he meant to say, "Just as Iexpected from what you told me!" Then, turning again to the jailer, hesaid,--

  "Show us to the prisoner's cell."

  The murderer had been put into a small but tidy cell in the first story.When they entered, they found him seated on his bed, his heels on thebars, and his chin in the palm of his hands. As soon as he saw thesurgeon, he jumped up, and with outstretched arms and rolling eyes,exclaimed,--

  "The officer has died!"

  "No," replied the surgeon, "no! Calm yourself. The wound is a very badone; but in a fortnight he will be up again."

  These words fell like a heavy blow upon the murderer. He turned pale;his lips quivered; and he trembled in all his limbs. Still he promptlymastered this weakness of the flesh; and falling on his knees, withfolded hands, he murmured in the most dramatic manner,--

  "Then I am not a murderer! O Great God, I thank thee!"

  And his lips moved as if he were uttering a fervent prayer.

  It was evidently a case of coarsest hypocrisy; for his lookscontradicted his words and his voice. The magistrate, however, seemed tobe taken in.

  "You show proper feelings," he said. "Now get up and answer me. What isyour name?"

  "Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet."

  "What age?"

  "Thirty-five years."

  "Where were you born?"

  "At Bagnolet, near Paris. And on that account, my friend"--

  "Never mind. Your profession?"

  The man hesitated. The magistrate added,--

  "In your own interest I advise you to tell the truth. The truth alwayscomes out in the end; and your position would be a very serious one ifyou tried to lie. Answer, therefore, directly."

  "Well, I am an engraver on metal; but I have been in the army; I servedmy time in the marines."

  "What brought you to Cochin China?"

  "The desire to find work. I was tired of Paris. There was no work forengravers. I met a friend who told me the government wanted good workmenfor the colonies."

  "What was your friend's name?"

  A slight blush passed over the man's cheek's, and he answered hastily,--

  "I have forgotten his name."

  The magistrate seemed to redouble his attention, although he did notshow it.

  "That is very unfortunate for you," he answered coldly. "Come, make aneffort; try to remember."

  "I know I cannot; it is not worth the trouble."

  "Well; but no doubt you recollect the profession of the man who knew sowell that government wanted men in Cochin China? What was it?"

  The man, this time, turned crimson with rage, and cried out withextraordinary vehemence,--

  "How do I know? Besides, what have I to do with my friend's name andprofession? I learned from him that they wanted workmen. I called at thenavy department, they engaged me; and that is all."

  Standing quietly in one of the corners of the cell, the old chiefsurgeon lost not a word, not a gesture, of the murderer. And he couldhardly refrain from rubbing his hands with delight as he noticed themarvellous skill of the magistrate in seizing upon all those littlesigns, which, when summed up at the end of an investigation, form anoverwhelming mass of evidence against the criminal. The magistrate, inthe meantime, went on with the same impassive air,--

  "Let us leave that question, then, since it seems to irritate you, andlet us go on to your residence here. How have you supported yourself atSaigon?"

  "By my work, forsooth! _I_ have two arms; and I am not a good-for-nothing."

  "You have found employment, you say, as engraver on metal?"

  "No."

  "But you said"--

  Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, could hardly conceal hisimpatience.

  "If you won't let me have my say," he broke out insolently, "it isn'tworth while questioning me."

  The magistrate seemed not to notice it. He answered coldly,--

  "Oh! talk as much as you want. I can wait."

  "Well, then, the day after we had landed, M. Farniol, the owner of theFrench restaurant, offered me a place as waiter. Of course I accepted,and stayed there a year. Now I wait at table at the Hotel de France,kept by M. Roy. You can send for my two masters; they will tell youwhether there is any complaint against me."

  "They will certainly be examined. And where do you live?"

  "At the Hotel de France, of course, where I am employed."

  The magistrate's face looked more and more benevolent. He asked next,--

  "And that is a good place,--to be waiter at a restaurant or a hotel?"

  "Why, yes--pretty good."

  "They pay well; eh?"

  "That depends,--sometimes they do; at other times they don't. When it isthe season"--

  "That is so everywhere. But let us be accurate. You have been noweighteen months in Saigon; no doubt you have laid up something?"

  The man looked troubled and amazed, as if he had suddenly found out thatthe apparent benevolence of the magistrate had led him upon slippery anddangerous ground. He said evasively,--

  "If I have put anything aside, it is not worth mentioning."

  "On the contrary, let us mention it. How much about have you saved?"

  Bagnolet's looks, and the tremor of his lips, showed the rage that wasdevouring him.

  "I don't know," he said sharply.

  The magistrate made a gesture of surprise which was admirable. Headded,--

  "What! You don't know how much you have laid up? That is too improbable!When people save money, one cent after another, to provide for their oldage, they know pretty well"--

  "Well, then, take it for granted that I have saved nothing."

  "As you like it. Only it is my duty to show you the effect of yourdeclaration. You tell me you have not laid up any money, don't you? Now,what would you say, if, upon search being made, the police should find acertain sum of money on your person or elsewhere?"

  "They won't find any."

  "So much the better for you; for, after what you said, it would be aterrible charge."

  "Let them search."

  "They are doing it now, and not only in your room, but also elsewhere.They will soon know if you have invested any money, or if you havedeposited it with any of your acquaintances."

  "I may have brought some money with me from home."

  "No; for you have told me that you could no longer live in Paris,finding no work."

  Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, made such a sudden and violent start, thatthe surgeon thought he was going to attack the magistrate. He felt hehad been ca
ught in a net the meshes of which were drawing tighter andtighter around him; and these apparently inoffensive questions assumedsuddenly a terrible meaning.

  "Just answer me in one word," said the magistrate. "Did you bring anymoney from France, or did you not?"

  The man rose, and his lips opened to utter a curse; but he checkedhimself, sat down again, and, laughing ferociously, he said,--

  "Ah! you would like to 'squeeze' me, and make me cut my own throat. Butluckily, I can see through you; and I refuse to answer."

  "You mean you want to consider. Have a care! You need not consider inorder to tell the truth."

  And, as the man remained obstinately silent, the magistrate began againafter a pause, saying,--

  "You know what you are accused of? They suspect that you fired at Lieut.Champcey with intent to kill."

  "That is an abominable lie!"

  "So you say. How did you hear that the officers of 'The Conquest' hadarranged a large hunting-party?"

  "I had heard them speak of it at _table d'hote_."

  "And you left your service in order to attend this hunt, some twelvemiles from Saigon? That is certainly singular."

  "Not at all; for I am very fond of hunting. And then I thought, if Icould bring back a large quantity of game, I would probably be able tosell it very well."

  "And you would have added the profit to your other savings, wouldn'tyou?"

  Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, was stung by the point of this ironicalquestion, as if he had received a sharp cut. But, as he said nothing,the magistrate continued,--

  "Explain to us how the thing happened."

  On this ground the murderer knew he was at home, having had ample timeto get ready; and with an accuracy which did great honor to his memory,or to his veracity, he repeated what he had told the surgeon on thespot, and at the time of the catastrophe. He only added, that he hadconcealed himself, because he had seen at once to what terrible chargeshe would be exposed by his awkwardness. And as he continued his account,warming up with its plausibility, he recovered the impudence, orrather the insolence, which seemed to be the prominent feature of hischaracter.

  "Do you know the officer whom you have wounded?" asked the magistratewhen he had finished.

  "Of course, I do, as I have made the voyage with him. He is Lieut.Champcey."

  "Have you any complaint against him?"

  "None at all."

  Then he added in a tone of bitterness and resentment,--

  "What relations do you think could there be between a poor devil likemyself and a great personage like him? Would he have condescended evento look at me? Would I have dared to speak to him? If I know him, it isonly because I have seen him, from afar off, walk the quarter-deck withthe other officers, a cigar in his mouth, after a good meal, while wein the forecastle had our salt fish, and broke our teeth with worm-eatenhard-tack."

  "So you had no reason to hate him?"

  "None; as little as anybody else."

  Seated upon a wretched little footstool, his paper on his knees, aninkhorn in his hand, the clerk was rapidly taking down the questions andthe answers. The magistrate made him a sign that it was ended, and thensaid, turning to the murderer,--

  "That is enough for to-day. I am bound to tell you, that, having so faronly kept you as a matter of precaution, I shall issue now an order foryour arrest."

  "You mean I am to be put in jail?"

  "Yes, until the court shall decide whether you are _guilty_ of murder,or of involuntary homicide."

  Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, seemed to have foreseen this conclusion: atleast he coolly shrugged his shoulders, and said in a hoarse voice,--

  "In that case I shall have my linen changed pretty often here; for, if Ihad been wicked enough to plot an assassination, I should not have beenfool enough to say so."

  "Who knows?" replied the magistrate. "Some evidence is as good as anavowal."

  And, turning to the clerk, he said,--

  "Read the deposition to the accused."

  A moment afterwards, when this formality had been fulfilled, themagistrate and the old doctor left the room. The former looked extremelygrave, and said,--

  "You were right, doctor; that man is a murderer. The so-called friend,whose name he would not tell us, is no other person than the rascalwhose tool he is. And I mean to get that person's name out of him, ifM. Champcey recovers, and will give me the slightest hint. Therefore,doctor, nurse your patient."

  To recommend Daniel to the surgeon was at least superfluous. If the oldoriginal was inexorable, as they said on board ship, for those lazy oneswho pretended to be sick for the purpose of shirking work, he was alltenderness for his real patients; and his tenderness grew with theseriousness of their danger. He would not have hesitated a momentbetween an admiral who was slightly unwell, and the youngest midshipmanof the fleet who was dangerously wounded. The admiral might have waiteda long time before he would have left the midshipman,--an originalityfar less frequent than we imagine.

  It would have been enough, therefore, for Daniel to be so dangerouslywounded. But there was something else besides. Like all who had eversailed with Daniel, the surgeon, also, had conceived a lively interestin him, and was filled with admiration for his character. Besides that,he knew that his patient alone could solve this great mystery, whichpuzzled him exceedingly.

  Unfortunately, Daniel's condition was one of those which defy allprofessional skill, and where all hope depends upon time, nature, andconstitution. To try to question him would have been absurd; for hehad so far continued delirious. At times he thought he was on boardhis sloop in the swamps of the Kamboja; but most frequently he imaginedhimself fighting against enemies bent upon his ruin. The names of SarahBrandon, Mrs. Brian, and Thomas Elgin, were constantly on his lips,mixed up with imprecations and fearful threats.

  For twenty days he remained so; and for twenty days and twenty nightshis "man," Baptist Lefloch, who had caught the murderer, was by hisbedside, watching his slightest movement, and ever bending over himtenderly. Not one of those noble daughters of divine wisdom, whom wemeet in every part of the globe, wherever there is a sick man to nurse,could have been more patient, more attentive, or more ingenious, thanthis common sailor. He had put off his shoes, so as to walk more softly;and he came and went on tiptoe, his face full of care and anxiety,preparing draughts, and handling with his huge bony hands, withlaughable, but almost touching precautions, the small phials out ofwhich he had to give a spoonful to his patient at stated times.

  "I'll have you appointed head nurse of the navy, Lefloch," said the oldsurgeon.

  But he shook his head and answered,--

  "I would not like the place, commandant. Only, you see, when we weredown there on the Kamboja, and Baptist Lefloch was writhing like a wormin the grip of the cholera, and when he was already quite blue and cold,Lieut. Champcey did not send for one of those lazy Annamites to rub him,he came himself, and rubbed him till he brought back the heat and lifeitself. Now, you see, I want to do some little for him."

  "You would be a great scamp if you did not."

  The surgeon hardly left the wounded man himself. He visited him fouror five times a day, once at least every night, and almost every dayremained for hours sitting by his bedside, examining the patient, andexperiencing, according to the symptoms, the most violent changes fromhope to fear, and back again. It was thus he learned a part, at least,of Daniel's history,--that he was to marry a daughter of Count Ville-Handry, who himself had married an adventuress; and that they hadseparated him from his betrothed by a forged letter. The doctor'sconjectures were thus confirmed: such cowardly forgers would nothesitate to hire an assassin.

  But the worthy surgeon was too deeply impressed with the dignity of hisprofession to divulge secrets which he had heard by the bedside of apatient. And when the magistrate, devoured by impatience, came to himevery three or four days, he always answered,--

  "I have nothing new to tell you. It will take weeks yet before youcan examine my patient. I am sorry for
it, for the sake of EvaristeCrochard, surnamed Bagnolet, who must be tired of prison; but he mustwait."

  In the meantime, Daniel's long delirium had been succeeded by a periodof stupor. Order seemed gradually to return to his mind. He recognizedthe persons around him, and even stammered a few sensible words. But hewas so excessively weak, that he remained nearly all the time plunged ina kind of torpor which looked very much like death itself. When he wasaroused for a time, he always asked in an almost inaudible voice,--

  "Are there no letters for me from France?"

  Invariably, Lefloch replied, according to orders received from thedoctor,--

  "None, lieutenant."

  But he told a falsehood. Since Daniel was confined to his bed, threevessels had arrived from France, two French and one English; and amongthe despatches there were eight or ten letters for Lieut. Champcey. Butthe old surgeon said to himself, not without good reason,--

  "Certainly it is almost a case of conscience to leave this unfortunateman in such uncertainty: but this uncertainty is free from danger, atleast; while any excitement would kill him as surely and as promptly asI could blow out a candle."

  A fortnight passed; and Daniel recovered some little strength; at lasthe entered upon a kind of convalescence--if a poor man who could notturn over in bed unaided can be called a convalescent. But, with hisreturned consciousness, his sufferings also reappeared; and, as hegradually ascertained how long he had been confined, his anxiety assumedan alarming character.

  "There must be letters for me," he said to his man; "you keep them fromme. I must have them."

  The doctor at last came to the conclusion that this excessive agitationwas likely to become as dangerous as the excitement he dreaded so much;so he said one day,--

  "Let us run the risk."

  It was a burning hot afternoon, and Daniel had now been an invalid forseven weeks. Lefloch raised him on his pillows, stowed him away, as hecalled it; and the surgeon handed him his letters.

  Daniel uttered a cry of delight.

  At the first glance he had recognized on three of the envelopesHenrietta's handwriting. He kissed them, and said,--

  "At last she writes!"

  The shock was so violent, that the doctor was almost frightened.

  "Be calm, my dear friend," he said. "Be calm! Be a man, forsooth!"

  But Daniel only smiled, and replied,--

  "Never mind me, doctor; you know joy is never dangerous; and nothing butjoy can come to me from her who writes to me. However, just see how calmI am!"

  So calm, that he did not even take the time to see which was the oldestof his letters.

  He opened one of them at haphazard, and read:--

  "Daniel, my dear Daniel, my only friend in this world, and my sole hope,how could you intrust me to such an infamous person? How could you handover your poor Henrietta to such a wretch? This Maxime de Brevan, thisscoundrel, whom you considered your friend, if you knew"--

  This was the long letter written by Henrietta the day after M. de Brevanhad declared to her that he loved her, and that sooner or later, whethershe chose or not, she should be his, giving her the choice between thehorrors of starvation and the disgrace of becoming his wife.

  As Daniel went on reading, a deadly pallor was spreading over his face,pale as it was already; his eyes grew unnaturally large; and big dropsof perspiration trickled down his temples. A nervous trembling seizedhim, so violent, that it made his teeth rattle; sobs rose from hischest; and a pinkish foam appeared on his discolored lips. At last hereached the concluding lines,--

  "Now," the young girl wrote, "since, probably, none of my letters havereached you, they must have been intercepted. This one will reach you;for I am going to carry it to the post-office myself. For God'ssake, Daniel, return! Come back quick, if you wish to save, not yourHenrietta's honor, for I shall know how to die, but your Henrietta'slife!"

  Then the surgeon and the sailor witnessed a frightful sight.

  This man, who but just now had not been able to raise himself on hispillows; this unfortunate sufferer, who looked more like a skeletonthan a human being; this wounded man, who had scarcely his breath lefthim,--threw back his blankets, and rushed to the middle of the room,crying, with a terrible voice,--

  "My clothes, Lefloch, my clothes!"

  The doctor had hastened forward to support him; but he pushed him asidewith one arm, continuing,--

  "By the holy name of God, Lefloch, make haste! Run to the harbor,wretch! there must be a steamer there. I buy it. Let it get up steam,instantly. In an hour I must be on my way."

  But this great effort had exhausted him. He tottered; his eyes dosed;and he fainted away in the arms of his sailor, stammering,--

  "That letter, doctor, that letter; read it, and you will see I must go."

  Raising his lieutenant, and holding him like a child in his arms,Lefloch carried him back to his bed; but, for more than ten minutes, thedoctor and the faithful sailor were unable to tell whether they had nota corpse before their eyes, and were wasting all their attentions.

  No! It was Lefloch who first noticed a slight tremor.

  "He moves!" he cried out. "Look, commandant, he moves! He is alive!We'll pull him through yet."

  They succeeded, in fact, to rekindle this life which had appeared sonearly extinct; but they did _not_ bring back that able intellect. Thecold and indifferent look with which Daniel stared at them, when he atlast opened his eyes once more, told them that the tottering reason ofthe poor man had not been strong enough to resist this new shock. Andstill he must have retained some glimpses of the past; for hisefforts to collect his thoughts were unmistakable. He passed his handsmechanically over his forehead, as if trying to remove the mistwhich enshrouded his mind. Then a convulsion shook him; and his lipsoverflowed with incoherent words, in which the recollection of thefearful reality, and the extravagant conceptions of delirium, werestrangely mixed.

  "I foresaw it," said the chief surgeon. "I foresaw it but too fully."

  He had by this time exhausted all the resources of his skill and longexperience; he had followed all the suggestions nature vouchsafed; andhe could do nothing more now, but wait. Picking up the fatal letter, hewent into the embrasure of one of the windows to read it. Daniel hadin his wanderings said enough to enable the doctor to understand thepiercing cry of distress contained in the poor girl's letter; andLefloch, who watched him, saw a big tear running down his cheek, and inthe next moment a flood of crimson overspread his face.

  "This is enough to madden a man!" he growled. "Poor Champcey!"

  And like a man who no longer possesses himself, who must move somehow,he stuffed the letter in his pocket, and went out, swearing till theplaster seemed to fall from the ceiling.

  Precisely at the same hour, the magistrate, who had been notified of thetrial, came to ask for news. Seeing the old surgeon cross the hospitalyard, he ran up and asked, as soon as he was within hearing,--

  "Well?"

  The doctor went a few steps farther, and then replied in a tone ofdespair,--

  "Lieut. Champcey is lost!"

  "Great God! What do you mean?"

  "What I think. Daniel has a violent brain-fever, or rather congestion ofthe brain. Weakened, exhausted, extenuated as he is, how can he endureit? He cannot; that is evident. It would take another miracle tosave him now; and you may rest assured it won't be done. In lessthan twenty-four hours he will be a dead man, and his assassins willtriumph."

  "Oh!"

  The old surgeon's eyes glared with rage; and a sardonic smile curled hislips as he continued,--

  "And who could keep those rascals from triumphing? If Daniel dies, youwill be bound to release that scamp, the wretched murderer whom you keepimprisoned,--that man Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet; for there will be noevidence. Or, if you send him before a court, he will be declared guiltyof involuntary homicide. And yet you know, as well as I do, he haswantonly fired at one of the noblest creatures I have ever known. And,when he has served his term, he will receive
the price of Champcey'slife, and he will spend it in orgies; and the others, the truecriminals, who have hired him, will go about the world with lofty pride,rich, honored, and haughty."

  "Doctor!"

  But the old original was not to be stopped. He went on,--

  "Ah, let me alone! Your human justice,--do you want me to tell you whatI think of it? I am ashamed of it! When you send every year three orfour stupid murderers to the scaffold, and some dozens of miserablethieves to the penitentiary, you fold your black gowns around you, andproudly proclaim that all is well, and that society, thus protected, maysleep soundly. Well, do you know what is the real state of things? Youonly catch the stupid, the fools. The others, the strong, escape betweenthe meshes of your laws, and, relying on their cleverness and your wantof power, they enjoy the fruit of their crimes in all the pride of theirimpunity, until"--

  He hesitated, and added, unlike his usual protestations of atheism,--

  "Until the day of divine judgment."

  Far from appearing hurt by such an outburst of indignation, themagistrate, after having listened with impassive face, said, as soon asthe doctor stopped for want of breath,--

  "You must have discovered something new."

  "Most assuredly. I think I hold at last the thread of the fearful plotwhich is killing my poor Daniel. Ah, if he would but live! But he cannotlive."

  "Well, well, console yourself, doctor. You said human justice has itslimits, and hosts of criminals escape its vengeance; but in this case,whether Lieut. Champcey live or die, justice shall be done, I promiseyou!"

  He spoke in a tone of such absolute certainty, that the old surgeon wasstruck by it. He exclaimed,--

  "Has the murderer confessed the crime?"

  The magistrate shook his head.

  "No," he replied; "nor have I seen him again since the firstexamination. But I have not been asleep. I have been searching; and Ithink I have sufficient evidence now to bring out the truth. And if you,on your side, have any positive information"--

  "Yes, I have; and I think I am justified now in communicating it to you.I have, besides, a letter"--

  He was pulling the letter out of his pocket; but the magistrate stoppedhim, saying,--

  "We cannot talk here in the middle of the court, where everybody canwatch us from the windows. The court-room is quite near: suppose we gothere, doctor."

  For all answer the surgeon put on his cap firmly, took his friend's arm,and the next moment the soldier on duty at the gate of the hospitalsaw them go out, engaged in a most animated conversation. When they hadreached the magistrate's room, he shut the door carefully; and, afterhaving invited the surgeon to take a seat, he said:--

  "I shall ask you for your information in a moment. First listen to whatI have to say. I know now who Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet,really is; and I know the principal events of his life. Ah! it hascost me time and labor enough; but human justice is patient, doctor.Considering that this man had sailed on board 'The Conquest' for morethan four months, in company with one hundred and fifty emigrants, Ithought it would be unlikely that he should not have tried to breakthe monotony of such a voyage by long talks with friends. He is a goodspeaker, a Parisian, a former soldier, and a great traveller. He was,no doubt, always sure of an audience. I sent, therefore, one by one, forall the former passengers on board 'The Conquest,' whom I could find,a hundred, perhaps; and I examined them. I soon found out that mypresumption was not unfounded.

  "Almost every one of them had found out some detail of Bagnolet'slife, some more, some less, according to the degree of honesty ordemoralization which Bagnolet thought he discovered in them. I collectedall the depositions of these witnesses; I completed and compared them,one by the other; and thus, by means of the confessions of the accused,certain allusions and confidences of his made to others, and hisindiscretions when he was drunk, I was enabled to make up his biographywith a precision which is not likely to be doubted."

  Without seeming to notice the doctor's astonishment, he opened a largecase on his table; and, drawing from it a huge bundle of papers, he heldit up in the air, saying,--

  "Here are the verbal depositions of my hundred and odd witnesses."

  Then, pointing at four or five sheets of paper, which were covered withvery fine and close writing, he added,--

  "And here are my extracts. Now, doctor, listen,--"

  And at once he commenced reading this biography of his "accused," makingoccasional remarks, and explaining what he had written.

  "_Evariste Crochard_, surnamed _Bagnolet_, was born at Bagnolet in 1829,and is, consequently, older than he says, although he looks younger. Hewas born in February; and this month is determined by the depositionof a witness, to whom the accused offered, during the voyage, a bottle,with the words, 'To-day is my birthday.'

  "From all the accounts of the accused, it appears that his parentswere evidently very honest people. His father was foreman in a copperfoundry; and his mother a seamstress. They may be still living; but formany years they have not seen their son.

  "The accused was sent to school; and, if you believe him, he learnedquickly, and showed remarkable talents. But from his twelfth year hejoined several bad companions of his age, and frequently abandoned hishome for weeks, roaming about Paris. How did he support himself while hewas thus vagabondizing?

  "He has never given a satisfactory explanation. But he has made suchprecise statements about the manner in which youthful thieves maintainthemselves in the capital, that many witnesses suspect him of havinghelped them in robbing open stalls in the streets.

  "The positive result of these investigations is, that his father,distressed by his misconduct, and despairing of ever seeing him mend hisways, had him sent to a house of correction when he was fourteen yearsold.

  "Released at the end of eighteen months, he says he was bound out asan apprentice, and soon learned his business well enough to supporthimself. This last allegation, however, cannot be true; for fourwitnesses, of whom one at least is of the same profession as Crochard,declare that they have seen him at work, and that, if he ever was askilled mechanic, he is so no longer. Besides, he cannot have been longat work; for he had been a year in prison again, when the revolutionof 1848 began. This fact he has himself stated to more than twenty-fivepersons. But he has explained his imprisonment very differently; andalmost every witness has received a new version. One was told that hehad been sentenced for having stabbed one of his companions while drunk;another, that it was for a row in a drinking-saloon; and a third, thathe was innocently involved with others in an attempt to rob a foreigner.

  "The prosecution is, therefore, entitled to conclude fairly thatCrochard was sentenced simply as a thief.

  "Set free soon after the revolution, he did not resume his profession,but secured a place as machinist in a theatre on the boulevards. At theend of three months he was turned off, because of 'improper conduct withwomen,' according to one; or, if we believe another statement, becausehe was accused of a robbery committed in one of the boxes.

  "Unable to procure work, he engaged himself as groom in a wanderingcircus, and thus travelled through the provinces. But at Marseilles,he is wounded in a fight, and has to go to a hospital, where he remainsthree months.

  "After his return to Paris, he associated himself with a rope-dancer,but was soon called upon to enter the army. He escaped conscription bygood luck. But the next year we find him negotiating with a dealer insubstitutes; and he confesses having sold himself purely from a maddesire to possess fifteen hundred francs at once, and to be able tospend them in debauch. Having successfully concealed his antecedents,he is next admitted as substitute in the B Regiment of the line; but,before a year had elapsed, his insubordination has caused him to be sentto Africa as a punishment.

  "He remained there sixteen months, and conducted himself well enough tobe incorporated in the First Regiment of Marines, one battalion of whichwas to be sent to Senegambia. He had, however, by no means given uphis bad ways; for he was very soon after
condemned to ten years' penalservitude for having broken into a house by night as a robber."

  The chief surgeon, who had for some time given unmistakable signs ofimpatience, now rose all of a sudden, and said,--

  "Pardon me, if I interrupt you, sir; but can you rely upon the veracityof your witnesses?"

  "Why should I doubt them?"

  "Because it seems to me very improbable that a cunning fellow, such asthis Crochard seems to be, should have denounced himself."

  "But he has not denounced himself."

  "Ah?"

  "He has often mentioned this condemnation; but he has always attributedit to acts of violence against a superior; On that point he has nevervaried in his statements."

  "Then how on earth did you learn"--

  "The truth? Oh, very simply. _I_ inquired at Saigon; and I succeededin finding a sergeant in the Second Regiment of Marines, who was inthe First Regiment at the same time with Crochard. He gave me all thesedetails. And there is no mistake about the identity; for, as soon asI said 'Crochard' the sergeant exclaimed, 'Oh, yes! Crochard, surnamedBagnolet.'"

  And, as the doctor bowed without saying a word, the magistrate said,--

  "I resume the account. The statements of the accused since his arrestare too insignificant to be here reported. There is only one peculiarityof importance for the prosecution, which may possibly serve to enable usto trace the instigators of this crime. On three occasions, and in thepresence of, at least, three witnesses each time, Crochard has used, inalmost the same terms, these words,--

  "'No one would believe the strange acquaintances one makes in prisons.You meet there young men of family, who have done a foolish thing,and lots of people, who, wishing to make a fortune all at once, had nochance. When they come out from there, many of these fellows get intovery good positions; and then, if you meet them, they don't know you. Ihave known some people there, who now ride in their carriages.'"

  The doctor had become silent.

  "Oh!" he said half aloud, "might not some of these people whom theassassin has known in prison have put arms in his hand?"

  "That is the very question I asked myself."

  "Because, you see, some of Daniel's enemies are fearful people; and ifyou knew what is in this letter here in my hand, which, no doubt, willbe the cause of that poor boy's death"--

  "Allow me to finish, doctor," said the man of law. And then, morerapidly, he went on,--

  "Here follows a blank. How the accused lived in Paris, to which hehad returned after his release, is not known. Did he resort to meancheating, or to improper enterprises, in order to satisfy his passions?The prosecution is reduced to conjectures, since Crochard has refused togive details, and only makes very general statements as to these years.

  "This fact only is established, that every thing he took with him whenhe left Paris was new,--his tools, the linen in his valise, the clotheshe wore, from the cap on his head to his shoes. Why were they all new?"

  As the magistrate had now reached the last line on the first sheet, thesurgeon rose, bowed low, and said,--

  "Upon my word, sir, I surrender; and I do begin to hope that Lieut.Champcey may still be avenged."

  A smile of pleased pride appeared for a moment on the lips of thelawyer; but assuming his mask of impassiveness instantly again, as if hehad been ashamed of his weakness, he said with delicate irony,--

  "I really think human justice may this time reach the guilty. But waitbefore you congratulate me."

  The old surgeon was too candid to make even an attempt at concealing hisastonishment.

  "What!" he said, "you have more evidence still?"

  The magistrate gravely shook his head, and said,--

  "The biography which I have just read establishes nothing. We do notsucceed by probabilities and presumptions; however strong they are inconvincing a jury. They want and require proof, positive proof, beforethey condemn. Well, such proof I have."

  "Oh!"

  From the same box from which he had taken the papers concerning Crochardhe now drew a letter, which he shook in the air with a threateninggesture. "Here is something," he said, "which was sent to the stateattorney twelve days after the last attempt had been made on M.Champcey's life. Listen!" And he read thus,--

  "Sir,--A sailor, who has come over to Boen-Hoa, where I live with mywife, has told us that a certain Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, has shot,and perhaps mortally wounded, Lieut. Champcey of the ship 'Conquest.'

  "In connection with this misfortune, my wife thinks, and I also considerit a matter of conscience, that we should make known to you a veryserious matter.

  "One day I happened to be on a yardarm, side by side with Crochard,helping the sailors to furl a sail, when I saw him drop a huge block,which fell upon Lieut. Champcey, and knocked him down.

  "No one else had noticed it; and Crochard instantly pulled up the blockagain. I was just considering whether I ought to report him, when hefell at my feet, and implored me to keep it secret; for he had been veryunfortunate in life, and if I spoke he would be ruined.

  "Thinking that he had been simply awkward, I allowed myself to be moved,and swore to Crochard that the matter should remain between us. Butwhat has happened since proves very clearly, as my wife says, that I waswrong to keep silence; and I am ready now to tell all, whatever may bethe consequences.

  "Still, sir, I beg you will protect me, in case Crochard should think ofavenging himself on me or on my family,--a thing which might very easilyhappen, as he is a very bad man, capable of any thing.

  "As I cannot write, my wife sends you this letter. And we are, with themost profound respect, &c."

  The doctor rubbed his hands violently.

  "And you have seen this blacksmith?" he asked.

  "Certainly! He has been here, he and his wife. Ah! if the man had beenleft to his own counsels, he would have kept it all secret, so terriblyis he afraid of this Crochard; but, fortunately, his wife had morecourage."

  "Decidedly," growled the surgeon. "The women are, after all, the betterpart of creation."

  The magistrate carefully replaced the letter in the box, and then wenton in his usual calm voice,--

  "Thus the first attempt at murder is duly and fully proven. As for thesecond,--the one made on the river,--we are not quite so far advanced.Still I have hopes. I have found out, for instance, that Crochard is afirst-rate swimmer. Only about three months ago he made a bet with oneof the waiters at the hotel where he is engaged, that he would swimacross the Dong-Nai twice, at a place where the current is strongest;and he did it."

  "But that is evidence; is it not?"

  "No; it is only a probability in favor of the prosecution. But Ihave another string to my bow. The register on board ship proves thatCrochard went on shore the very evening after the arrival of the vessel.Where, and with whom, did he spend the evening? Not one of my hundredand odd witnesses has seen him that night. And that is not all. No onehas noticed, the next day, that his clothes were wet. Therefore he musthave changed his clothes; and, in order to do that, he must have boughtsome; for he had taken nothing with him out of the ship but what he hadon. Where did he buy these clothes? I mean to find that out as soon asI shall no longer be forced to carry on the investigation secretly, as Ihave done so far. For I never forget one thing, that the real criminalsare in France, and that they will surely escape us, if they hear thattheir wretched accomplice here is in trouble."

  Once more the surgeon drew Henrietta's letter from his pocket, andhanded it to the lawyer, saying,--

  "I know who they are, the really guilty ones. I know Daniel'senemies,--Sarah Brandon, Maxime de Brevan, and the others."

  But the magistrate waved back the letter, and replied,--

  "It is not enough for us to know them, doctor; we want evidence againstthem,--clear, positive, irrefutable evidence. This evidence we will getfrom Crochard. Oh, I know the ways of these rascals! As soon as they seethey are overwhelmed by the evidence against them, and feel they arein real danger, they hasten to denounce th
eir accomplices, and to aidjustice, with all their perversity to discover them. The accused willdo the same. When I shall have established the fact that he was hiredto murder M. Champcey, he will tell me by whom he was hired; and he willhave to confess that he was thus hired, when I show him how much of themoney he received for the purpose is now left."

  The old surgeon once more jumped up from his chair.

  "What!" he said, "you have found Crochard's treasure?"

  "No," replied the lawyer, "not yet; but"--

  He could hardly keep from smiling grimly; but he added at once,--

  "But I know where it is, I think. Ah! I can safely say it was not on thefirst day exactly that I saw where the truth probably was hid. I havehad a good deal of perplexity and trouble. Morally sure as I was, afterthe first examination of the accused, that he had a relatively large sumhidden somewhere, I first gave all my attention to his chamber. Assistedby a clever police-agent, I examined that room for a whole fortnight,till I was furious. The furniture was taken to pieces, and examined,the lining taken out of the chairs, and even the paper stripped from thewalls. All in vain. I was in despair, when a thought struck me,--one ofthose simple thoughts which make you wonder why it did not occur to youat once. I said to myself, 'I have found it!' And, anxious to ascertainif I was right, I immediately sent for the man with whom Crochard hadmade the bet about swimming across the Dong-Nai. He came; and--But Iprefer reading you his deposition."

  He took from the large bundle of papers a single sheet, and, assuming anair of great modesty, read the affidavit.

  "_Magistrate_.--At what point of the river did Crochard swim across?

  "_Witness_.--A little below the town.

  "_M_.--Where did he undress?

  "_W_.--At the place where he went into the water, just opposite thetile-factory of M. Wang-Tai.

  "_M_.--What did he do with his clothes?

  "_W_. (very much surprised).--Nothing.

  "_M_.--Excuse me; he must have done something. Try to recollect.

  "_W_. (striking his forehead).--Why, yes! I remember now. When Bagnolethad undressed, I saw he looked annoyed, as if he disliked going into thewater. But no! that was not it. He was afraid about his clothes; and hedid not rest satisfied till I had told him I would keep watch over them.Now, his clothes consisted of a mean pair of trousers and a miserableblouse. As they were in my way, I put them down on the ground, at thefoot of a tree. He had in the meantime done his work, and came back;but, instead of listening to my compliments, he cried furiously,'My clothes!'--'Well,' I said, 'they are not lost. There they are.'Thereupon he pushed me back fiercely, without saying a word, and ranlike a madman to pick up his clothes."

  The chief surgeon was electrified; he rose, and said,--

  "I understand; yes, I understand."