The Advocate placed the letter in his pocket, and murmured as he walked through the streets of Geneva:
"John Vanbrugh! Has he risen from his grave? He would see me at midnight and alone! He must be mad, or drunk, to make such a request. He may keep his vigil, undisturbed. Of such a friendship there can be no renewal. The gulf that separates us is too wide to be bridged over by sentimental memories. John Vanbrugh, the vagabond! I can imagine him, and the depth to which he has sunk. Every man must bear the consequences of his actions. Let him bear his, and make the best, or the worst, of them."
CHAPTER II
[A STARTLING INTERRUPTION]
The news of the acquittal of Gautran spread swiftly through the town, and the people gathered in front of the cafés and lingered in the streets, to gaze upon the celebrated Advocate who had worked the marvel.
"He has a face like the Sphynx," said one.
"With just as much feeling," said another.
"Do you believe Gautran was innocent?"
"Not I--though he made it appear so."
"Neither do I believe it, but I confess I am puzzled."