To triumph over the obstinate defence of a prisoner who shuts himself up in absolute denial as if in a fortress, valid proofs are needed. These weapons M. Patrigent was busily preparing. If Prosper had remained a little longer in the gallery, he would have seen the same bailiff who had called him come out to the judge’s office, and cry out:
“Number three.”
The witness, who was awaiting his turn, and answered the call for number three, was M. Fauvel.
The banker was no longer the same man. Yesterday he was kind and affable in his manner: now, as he entered the judge’s room, he seemed irritated. Reflection, which usually brings calmness and a desire to pardon, brought him anger and a thirst for vengeance.
The inevitable questions which commence every examination had scarcely been addressed to him before his impetuous temper gained the mastery, and he burst forth in invectives against Prosper.
M. Patrigent was obliged to impose silence upon him, reminding him of what was due to himself, no matter what wrongs he had suffered at the hands of his clerk.
Although he had very slightly examined Prosper, the judge was now scrupulously attentive and particular in having every question answered. Prosper’s examination had been a mere formality, the stating and proving a fact. Now it related to collecting the attendant circumstances and the most trifling particulars, so as to group them together, and reach a just conclusion.
“Let us proceed in order,” said the judge, “and pray confine yourself to answering my questions. Did you ever suspect your cashier of being dishonest?”
“Certainly not. Yet there were reasons which should have made me hesitate to trust him with my funds.”
“What reasons?”