Within an Inch of His Life

by Emile Gaboriau

  VIII.

  "What can have happened to Dionysia, that she does not come back?"murmured Grandpapa Chandore, as he walked up and down the Square, andlooked, for the twentieth time, at his watch. For some time the fear ofdispleasing his grandchild, and of receiving a scolding, kept him atthe place where she had told him to wait for her; but at last it was toomuch for him, and he said,--

  "Upon my word, this is too much! I'll risk it."

  And, crossing the road which separates the Square from the houses, heentered the long, narrow passage in the house of the sisters Mechinet.He was just putting his foot on the first step of the stairs, when hesaw a light above. He distinguished the voice of his granddaughter, andthen her light step.

  "At last!" he thought.

  And swiftly, like a schoolboy who hears his teacher coming, and fearsto be caught in the act, he slipped back into the Square. Dionysia wasthere almost at the same moment, and fell on his neck, saying,--

  "Dear grandpapa, I bring you back your bonds," and then she rained ashower of kisses upon the old gentleman's furrowed cheeks.

  If any thing could astonish M. de Chandore, it was the idea that thereshould exist in this world a man with a heart hard, cruel, and barbarousenough, to resist his Dionysia's prayers and tears, especially ifthey were backed by twenty thousand francs. Nevertheless, he saidmournfully,--

  "Ah! I told you, my dear child, you would not succeed."

  "And you were mistaken, dear grandpapa, and you are still mistaken; forI have succeeded!"

  "But--you bring back the money?"

  "Because I have found an honest man, dearest grandpapa,--a mosthonorable man. Poor fellow, how I must have tempted his honesty! For heis very much embarrassed, I know it from good authority, ever since heand his sisters bought that house. It was more than comfort, it was areal fortune, I offered him. Ah! you ought to have seen how his eyesbrightened up, and how his hands trembled, when he took up the bonds!Well, he refused to take them, after all; and the only reward he asksfor the very good service which he is going to render us"--

  M. de Chandore expressed his assent by a gesture, and then said,--

  "You are right, darling: that clerk is a good man, and he has won oureternal gratitude."

  "I ought to add," continued Dionysia, "that I was ever so brave. Ishould never have thought that I could be so bold. I wish you had beenhid in some corner, grandpapa, to see me and hear me. You would not haverecognized your grandchild. I cried a little, it is true, when I hadcarried my point."

  "Oh, dear, dear child!" murmured the old gentleman, deeply moved.

  "You see, grandpapa, I thought of nothing but of Jacques's danger, andof the glory of proving myself worthy of him, who is so brave himself. Ihope he will be satisfied with me."

  "He would be hard to please, indeed, if he were not!" exclaimed M. deChandore.

  The grandfather and his child were standing all the while under thetrees in the great Square while they were thus talking to each other;and already a number of people had taken the opportunity of passingclose by them, with ears wide open, and all eagerness, to find outwhat was going on: it is a way people have in small towns. Dionysiaremembered the clerk's kindly warnings; and, as soon as she became awareof it, she said to her grandfather,--

  "Come, grandpapa. People are listening. I will tell you the rest as weare going home."

  And so, on their way, she told him all the little details of herinterview; and the old gentleman declared, in all earnest, that he didnot know which to admire most,--her presence of mind, or Mechinet'sdisinterestedness.

  "All the more reason," said the young girl, "why we should not add tothe dangers which the good man is going to run for us. I promised himto tell nobody, and I mean to keep my promise. If you believe me, deargrandpapa, we had better not speak of it to anybody, not even to myaunts."

  "You might just as well declare at once, little scamp, that you want tosave Jacques quite alone, without anybody's help."

  "Ah, if I could do that! Unfortunately, we must take M. Folgat into ourconfidence; for we cannot do without his advice."

  Thus it was done. The poor aunts, and even the marchioness, had to becontent with Dionysia's not very plausible explanation of her visit.And a few hours afterwards M. de Chandore, the young girl, and M. Folgatheld a council in the baron's study. The young lawyer was even moresurprised by Dionysia's idea, and her bold proceedings, then hergrandfather; he would never have imagined that she was capable of such astep, she looked so timid and innocent, like a mere child. He was aboutto compliment her; but she interrupted him eagerly, saying,--

  "There is nothing to boast of. I ran no risk."

  "A very substantial risk, madam, I assure you."

  "Pshaw!" exclaimed M. de Chandore.

  "To bribe an official," continued M. Folgat, "is a very grave offence.The Criminal Code has a certain paragraph, No. 179, which does nottrifle, and punishes the man who bribes, as well as the man who isbribed."

  "Well, so much the better!" cried Dionysia. "If poor M. Mechinet has togo to prison, I'll go with him!"

  And, without noticing the dissatisfaction expressed in her grandfather'sfeatures, she added, turning to M. Folgat,--

  "After all, sir, you see that your wishes have been fulfilled. Weshall be able to communicate with M. de Boiscoran: he will give us hisinstructions."

  "Perhaps so, madam."

  "How? Perhaps? You said yourself"--

  "I told you, madam, it would be useless, perhaps even imprudent, to takeany steps before we know the truth. But will we know it? Do you thinkthat M. de Boiscoran, who has good reasons for being suspicious ofevery thing, will at once tell us all in a letter which must needs passthrough several hands before it can reach us?"

  "He will tell us all, sir, without reserve, without fear, and withoutdanger."

  "Oh!"

  "I have taken my precautions. You will see."

  "Then we have only to wait."

  Alas, yes! They had to wait, and that was what distressed Dionysia. Shehardly slept that night. The next day was one unbroken torment. At eachringing of the bell, she trembled, and ran to see.

  At last, towards five o'clock, when nothing had come, she said,--

  "It is not to be to-day, provided, O God! that poor Mechinet has notbeen caught."

  And, perhaps in order to escape for a time the anguish of her fears, sheagreed to accompany Jacques's mother, who wanted to pay some visits.

  Ah, if she had but known! She had not left the house ten minutes, whenone of those street-boys, who abound at all hours of the day on thegreat Square, appeared, bringing a letter to her address. They took itto M. de Chandore, who, while waiting for dinner, was walking in thegarden with M. Folgat.

  "A letter for Dionysia!" exclaimed the old gentleman, as soon as theservant had disappeared. "Here is the answer we have been waiting for!"

  He boldly tore it open. Alas! It was useless. The note within theenvelope ran thus,--

  "31:9, 17, 19, 23, 25, 28, 32, 101, 102, 129, 137, 504, 515--37:2, 3, 4,5, 7, 8, 10, 11, 13, 14, 24, 27, 52, 54, 118, 119, 120, 200, 201--41:7,9, 17, 21, 22, 44, 45, 46"--

  And so on, for two pages.

  "Look at this, and try to make it out," said M. de Chandore, handing theletter to M. Folgat.

  The young man actually tried it; but, after five minutes' uselessefforts, he said,--

  "I understand now why Miss Chandore promised us that we should knowthe truth. M. de Boiscoran and she have formerly corresponded with eachother in cipher."

  Grandpapa Chandore raised his hands to heaven.

  "Just think of these little girls! Here we are utterly helpless withouther, as she alone can translate those hieroglyphics for you."

  If Dionysia had hoped, by accompanying the marchioness on her visits,to escape from the sad presentiments that oppressed her, she was cruellydisappointed. They went to M. Seneschal's house first; but the mayor'swife was by no means calculated to give courage to others in an hour ofperil. She could do nothing but embr
ace alternately Jacques's mother andDionysia, and, amid a thousand sobs, tell them over and over again, thatshe looked upon one as the most unfortunate of mothers, and upon theother as the most unfortunate of betrothed maidens.

  "Does the woman think Jacques is guilty?" thought Dionysia, and feltalmost angry.

  And that was not all. As they returned home, and passed the house whichhad been provisionally taken for Count Claudieuse and his family, theyheard a little boy calling out,--

  "O mamma, come quick! Here are the murderer's mother and hissweetheart."

  Thus the poor girl came home more downcast than before. Immediately,however, her maid, who had evidently been on the lookout for her return,told her that her grandfather and the lawyer from Paris were waiting forher in the baron's study. She hastened there without stopping to takeoff her bonnet; and, as soon as she came in, M. de Chandore handed herJacques's letter, saying,--

  "Here is your answer."

  She could not repress a little cry of delight, and rapidly touched theletter with her lips, repeating,--

  "Now we are safe, we are safe!"

  M. de Chandore smiled at the happiness of his granddaughter.

  "But, Miss Hypocrite," he said, "it seems you had great secrets tocommunicate to M. de Boiscoran, since you resorted to cipher, like archconspirators. M. Folgat and I tried to read it; but it was all Greek tous."

  Now only the young lady remembered M. Folgat's presence, and, blushingdeeply, she said,--

  "Latterly Jacques and I had been discussing the various methods to whichpeople resort who wish to carry on a secret correspondence: this ledhim to teach me one of the ways. Two correspondents choose any book theylike, and each takes a copy of the same edition. The writer looks in hisvolume for the words he wants, and numbers them; his correspondentfinds them by the aid of these numbers. Thus, in Jacques's letters, thenumbers followed by a colon refer to the pages, and the others to theorder in which the words come."

  "Ah, ah!" said Grandpapa Chandore, "I might have looked a long time."

  "It is a very simple method," replied Dionysia, "very well known,and still quite safe. How could an outsider guess what book thecorrespondents have chosen? Then there are other means to misleadindiscreet people. It may be agreed upon, for instance, that the numbersshall never have their apparent value, or that they shall vary accordingto the day of the month or the week. Thus, to-day is Monday, the secondday of the week. Well, I have to deduct one from each number of a page,and add one to each number of a word."

  "And you will be able to make it all out?" asked M. de Chandore.

  "Certainly, dear grandpapa. Ever since Jacques explained it to me, Ihave tried to learn it as a matter of course. We have chose a book whichI am very fond of, Cooper's 'Spy;' and we amused ourselves by writingendless letters. Oh! it is very amusing, and it takes time, because onedoes not always find the words that are needed, and then they have to bespelled letter by letter."

  "And M. de Boiscoran has a copy of Cooper's novels in his prison?" askedM. Folgat.

  "Yes, sir. M. Mechinet told me so. As soon as Jacques found he was to bekept in close confinement, he asked for some of Cooper's novels, and M.Galpin, who is so cunning, so smart, and so suspicious, went himself andgot them for him. Jacques was counting upon me."

  "Then, dear child, go and read your letter, and solve the riddle," saidM. de Chandore.

  When she had left, he said to his companion,--

  "How she loves him! How she loves this man Jacques! Sir, if any thingshould happen to him, she would die."

  M. Folgat made no reply; and nearly an hour passed, before Dionysia,shut up in her room, had succeeded in finding all the words of whichJacques's letter was composed. But when she had finished, and cameback to her grandfather's study, her youthful face expressed the mostprofound despair.

  "This is horrible!" she said.

  The same idea crossed, like a sharp arrow, the minds of M. de Chandoreand M. Folgat. Had Jacques confessed?

  "Look, read yourself!" said Dionysia, handing them the translation.

  Jacques wrote,--

  "Thanks for your letter, my darling. A presentiment had warned me, and Ihad asked for a copy of Cooper.

  "I understand but too well how grieved you must be at seeing me keptin prison without my making an effort to establish my innocence. Ikept silence, because I hoped the proof of my innocence would come fromoutside. I see that it would be madness to hope so any longer, and thatI must speak. I shall speak. But what I have to say is so very serious,that I shall keep silence until I shall have had an opportunity ofconsulting with some one in whom I can feel perfect confidence. Prudencealone is not enough now: skill also is required. Until now I feltsecure, relying on my innocence. But the last examination has opened myeyes, and I now see the danger to which I am exposed.

  "I shall suffer terribly until the day when I can see a lawyer. Thankmy mother for having brought one. I hope he will pardon me, if I addressmyself first to another man. I want a man who knows the country and itscustoms.

  "That is why I have chosen M. Magloire; and I beg you will tell himto hold himself ready for the day on which, the examination beingcompleted, I shall be relieved from close confinement.

  "Until then, nothing can be done, nothing, unless you can obtain thatthe case be taken out of M. G-----'s hands, and be given to some oneelse. That man acts infamously. He wants me to be guilty. He wouldhimself commit a crime in order to charge me with it, and there is nokind of trap he does not lay for me. I have the greatest difficulty incontrolling myself every time I see this man enter my cell, who was myfriend, and now is my accuser.

  "Ah, my dear ones! I pay a heavy price for a fault of which I have been,until now, almost unconscious.

  "And you, my only friend, will you ever be able to forgive me theterrible anxiety I cause you?

  "I should like to say much more; but the prisoner who has handed me yournote says I must be quick, and it takes so much time to pick out thewords!

  "J."

  When the letter had been read, M. Folgat and M. de Chandore sadly turnedtheir heads aside, fearing lest Dionysia should read in their eyes thesecret of their thoughts. But she felt only too well what it meant.

  "You cannot doubt Jacques, grandpapa!" she cried.

  "No," murmured the old gentleman feebly, "no."

  "And you, M. Folgat--are you so much hurt by Jacques's desire to consultanother lawyer?"

  "I should have been the first, madam, to advise him to consult anative."

  Dionysia had to summon all her energy to check her tears.

  "Yes," she said, "this letter is terrible; but how can it be otherwise?Don't you see that Jacques is in despair, that his mind wanders afterall these fearful shocks?"

  Somebody knocked gently at the door.

  "It is I," said the marchioness.

  Grandpapa Chandore, M. Folgat, and Dionysia looked at each other for amoment; and then the advocate said,--

  "The situation is too serious: we must consult the marchioness." He roseto open the door. Since the three friends had been holding the councilin the baron's study, a servant had come five times in succession toknock at the door, and tell them that the soup was on the table.

  "Very well," they had replied each time.

  At last, as they did not come down yet, Jacques's mother had come to theconclusion that something extraordinary had occurred.

  "Now, what could this be, that they should keep it from her?" shethought. If it were something good, they would not have concealed itfrom her. She had come up stairs, therefore, with the firm resolution toforce them to let her come in. When M. Folgat opened the door, she saidinstantly,--

  "I mean to know all!"

  Dionysia replied to her,--

  "Whatever you may hear, my dear mother, pray remember, that if you allowa single word to be torn from you, by joy or by sorrow, you cause theruin of an honest man, who has put us all under such obligations as cannever be fully discharged. I have been fortunate enough to establish aco
rrespondence between Jacques and us."

  "O Dionysia!"

  "I have written to him, and I have received his answer. Here it is."

  The marchioness was almost beside herself, and eagerly snatched at theletter. But, as she read on, it was fearful to see how the blood recededfrom her face, how her eyes grew dim, her lips turned pale, and at lasther breath failed to come. The letter slipped from her trembling hands;she sank into a chair, and said, stammering,--

  "It is no use to struggle any longer: we are lost!"

  There was something grand in Dionysia's gesture and the admirable accentof her voice, as she said,--

  "Why don't you say at once, my mother, that Jacques is an incendiary andan assassin?"

  Raising her head with an air of dauntless energy, with trembling lips,and fierce glances full of wrath and disdain, she added,--

  "And do I really remain the only one to defend him,--him, who, in hisdays of prosperity, had so many friends? Well, so be it!"

  Naturally, M. Folgat had been less deeply moved than either themarchioness or M. de Chandore; and hence he was also the first torecover his calmness.

  "We shall be two, madam, at all events," he said; "for I should neverforgive myself, if I allowed myself to be influenced by that letter.It would be inexcusable, since I know by experience what your hearthas told you instinctively. Imprisonment has horrors which affect thestrongest and stoutest of minds. The days in prison are interminable,and the nights have nameless terrors. The innocent man in his lonelycell feels as if he were becoming guilty, as the man of soundestintellect would begin to doubt himself in a madhouse"--

  Dionysia did not let him conclude. She cried,--

  "That is exactly what I felt, sir; but I could not express it as clearlyas you do."

  Ashamed at their lack of courage, M. de Chandore and the marchionessmade an effort to recover from the doubts which, for a moment, hadwell-nigh overcome them.

  "But what is to be done?" asked the old lady.

  "Your son tells us, madam, we have only to wait for the end of thepreliminary examination."

  "I beg your pardon," said M. de Chandore, "we have to try to get thecase handed over to another magistrate."

  M. Folgat shook his head.

  "Unfortunately, that is not to be dreamt of. A magistrate acting in hisofficial capacity cannot be rejected like a simple juryman."

  "However"--

  "Article 542 of the Criminal Code is positive on the subject."

  "Ah! What does it say?" asked Dionysia.

  "It says, in substance, madam, that a demand for a change of magistrate,on the score of well-founded suspicion, can only be entertained by acourt of appeals, because the magistrate, within his legitimate sphere,is a court in himself. I do not know if I express myself clearly?"

  "Oh, very clearly!" said M. de Chandore. "Only, since Jacques wishesit"--

  "To be sure; but M. de Boiscoran does not know"--

  "I beg your pardon. He knows that the magistrate is his mortal enemy."

  "Be it so. But how would that help us? Do you think that a demand fora change of venue would prevent M. Galpin from carrying on theproceedings? Not at all. He would go on until the decision comes fromthe Court of Appeals. He could, it is true, issue no final order; butthat is the very thing M. de Boiscoran ought to desire, since such anorder would make an end to his close confinement, and enable him to seean advocate."

  "That is atrocious!" murmured M. de Chandore.

  "It is atrocious, indeed; but such are the laws of France."

  In the meantime Dionysia had been meditating; and now she said to theyoung advocate,--

  "I have understood you perfectly, and to-morrow your objections shall beknown to M. de Boiscoran."

  "Above all," said the lawyer, "explain to him clearly that any suchsteps as he proposes to take will turn to his disadvantage. M. Galpinis our enemy; but we can make no specific charge against him. They wouldalways reply, 'If M. de Boiscoran is innocent, why does he not speak?'"

  This is what Grandpapa Chandore would not admit.

  "Still," he said, "if we could bring influential men to help us?"

  "Can you?"

  "Certainly. Boiscoran has old friends, who, no doubt, are all-powerfulstill under the present government. He was, in former years, veryintimate with M. de Margeril."

  M. Folgat's expression was very encouraging.

  "Ah!" he said, "if M. de Margeril could give us a lift! But he is noteasily approached."

  "We might send Boiscoran to see him, at least. Since he remainedin Paris for the purpose of assisting us there, now he will have anopportunity. I will write to him to-night."

  Since the name of Margeril had been mentioned, the marchioness hadbecome, if possible, paler than ever. At the old gentleman's last wordsshe rose, and said anxiously,--

  "Do not write, sir: it would be useless. I do not wish it."

  Her embarrassment was so evident, that the others were quite surprised.

  "Have Boiscoran and M. de Margeril had any difficulty?" asked M. deChandore.

  "Yes."

  "But," cried Dionysia, "it is a matter of life and death for Jacques."

  Alas! The poor woman could not speak of the suspicions which haddarkened the whole life of the Marquis de Boiscoran, nor of thecruel penalty which the wife was now called upon to pay for a slightimprudence.

  "If it is absolutely necessary," she said with a half-stifled voice,"if that is our very last hope, then I will go and see M. de Margerilmyself."

  M. Folgat was the only one who suspected what painful antecedents theremight be in the life of the marchioness, and how she was harassed bytheir memory now. He interposed, therefore, saying,--

  "At all events, my advice is to await the end of the preliminaryinvestigation. I may be mistaken, however, and, before any answer issent to M. Jacques, I desire that the lawyer to whom he alludes shouldbe consulted."

  "That is certainly the wisest plan," said M. de Chandore. And, ringingfor a servant, he sent him at once to M. Magloire, to ask him to callafter dinner. Jacques de Boiscoran had chosen wisely. M. Magloire waslooked upon in Sauveterre as the most eloquent and most skilful lawyer,not only of the district, but of the whole province. And what is rarerstill, and far more glorious, he had, besides, the reputation of beingunsurpassed in integrity and a high sense of honor. It was well knownthat he would never have consented to plead a doubtful cause; and theytold of him a number of heroic stories, in which he had thrown clientsout of the window, who had been so ill-advised to come to him, money inhand, to ask him to undertake an unclean case. He was naturally nota rich man, and preserved, at fifty-four or five, all the habits of afrugal and thrifty young man.

  After having married quite young, M. Magloire had lost his wife after afew months, and had never recovered from the loss. Although thirty yearsold, the wound had never healed; and regularly, on certain days, he wasseen wending his way to the cemetery, to place flowers on a modest gravethere. Any other man would have been laughed at for such a thing atSauveterre; but with him they dared not do so, for they all respectedhim highly. Young and old knew and reverenced the tall man with thecalm, serene face, the clear, bright eyes, and the eloquent lips, which,in their well-cut, delicate lines, by turns glowed with scorn, withtenderness, or with disdain.

  Like Dr. Seignebos, M. Magloire also was a Republican; and, at the lastImperial elections, the Bonapartists had had the greatest trouble, aidedthough they were by the whole influence of the government, and shrinkingfrom no unfair means, to keep him out of the Chamber. Nor wouldthey have been successful after all, but for the influence of CountClaudieuse, who had prevailed upon a number of electors to abstain fromvoting.

  This was the man, who, towards nine o'clock, presented himself, uponthe invitation of M. de Chandore, at his house, where he was anxiouslyexpected by all the inmates. His greeting was affectionate, but at thesame time so sad, that it touched Dionysia's heart most painfully. Shethought she saw that M. Magloire was not far from believing Ja
cquesguilty.

  And she was not mistaken; for M. Magloire let them see it clearly, inthe 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 themembers of the court, which was by no means favorable to the accused.Under such circumstances, it would have evidently been a grave blunderto 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. Galpinis determined to obtain from Jacques the confession of a crime which hehas not committed."

  M. Magloire shook his head, and replied,--

  "I believe, on the contrary, madam, that the investigation will be verysoon concluded."

  "But if Jacques keeps silent?"

  "Neither the silence of an accused, nor any other caprice or obstinacyof his, can interfere with the regular process. Called upon to producehis justification, if he refuses to do so, the law proceeds withouthim."

  "Still, sir, if an accused person has reasons"--

  "There are no reasons which can force a man to let himself be accusedunjustly. But even that case has been foreseen. The accused is atliberty not to answer a question which may inculpate him. _Nemo teneturprodere se ipsum_. But you must admit that such a refusal to answerjustifies a judge in believing that the charges are true which theaccused does not refute."

  The great calmness of the distinguished lawyer of Sauveterre terrifiedhis listeners more and more, except M. Folgat. When they heard him useall those technical terms, they felt chilled through and through likethe friends of a wounded man who hear the grating noise of the surgeon'sknife.

  "My son's situation appears to you very serious, sir?" asked themarchioness in a feeble voice.

  "I said it was dangerous, madam."

  "You think, as M. Folgat does, that every day adds to the danger towhich 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 ofJacques's, say so?"

  M. Magloire looked at the young girl with an air of deep and sincerepity, and then said,--

  "It is precisely because I am his friend, madam, that I am bound totell you the truth. Yes, I know and I appreciate all the noble qualitieswhich distinguish M. de Boiscoran. I have loved him, and I love himstill. 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. Whatevidence 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 anunfortunate system. Ah! if luckily there should be an _alibi_. He oughtto make haste, great haste, to establish it. He ought not to allowmatters to go on till he is sent up into court. Once there, an accusedis three-fourths condemned already."

  For once it looked as if the crimson in M. de Chandore's cheeks wasgrowing pale.

  "And yet," he exclaimed, "Jacques will not change his system: any onewho 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 suspectthat communications had been opened with the prisoner. Now that theletter had been alluded to, it became necessary to take him intoconfidence. 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 causingtrouble. 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 oncecommitted, I did not feel bound to insist upon its being abandoned: andeven 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, hesaid,--

  "I am at M. de Boiscoran's disposal; and I shall go to him as soon as heis no longer in close confinement. I think, as Miss Dionysia does, thathe will insist upon saying nothing. However, as we have the means ofreaching him by letter,--well, here I am myself ready to profit by theimprudence that has been committed!--beseech him, in the name of his owninterest, 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 audiencein consternation, so very evident was it, that he left so suddenlyin order to conceal the painful impression which Jacques's letter hadproduced upon him.

  "Certainly," said M. de Chandore, "we will write to him; but we mightjust 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, andhastened to her chamber to write the following letter:--

  "I must speak to you. There is a little gate in our garden which opensupon Charity Lane, I will wait for you there. However late it may bewhen 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 extremeprudence could suggest, she said to her,--

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