Daniel was trembling on his bed.
“Ah, sir!” he exclaimed, “I used to live in University Street, Paris.”
A slight blush passed over the lawyer’s face, a sign of unequivocal satisfaction in him. He uttered half loud, as if replying to certain objections in his own mind,—
“Everything is becoming clear.”
And yet, to the great surprise of his listeners, he abandoned this point; and, returning to the prisoner, he asked him,—
“So you acknowledge having received money for the murder of Lieut. Champcey?”
“I never said so.”
“No; but the three thousand francs found concealed on your person say so very clearly. From whom did you receive this money?”
“From nobody. They are my savings.”
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders; and, looking very sternly at Crochard, he said,—