“It is, monsieur.”
“Where doe he live?”
“Fanferlot says he was so ill that he was taken to the hospital—the Dubois Hospital.”
“Very well. I am going to examine him to-day, this very hour. Take your pen and paper, and send for a carriage.”
It was some distance from the Palais de Justice to the Dubois Hospital; but the cabman, urged by the promise of a large fee, made his sorry jades fly as if they were blooded horses.
Would Antonin be able to answer any questions?
The physician in charge of the hospital said that, although the man suffered horribly from a broken knee, his mind was perfectly clear.
“That being the case, monsieur,” said the judge, “I wish to examine him, and desire that no one be admitted while he makes his deposition.”
“Oh! you will not be intruded upon, monsieur; his room contains four beds, but they are just now unoccupied.”
When Antonin saw the judge enter, followed by a little weazened man in black, with a portfolio under his arm, he at once knew what he had come for.