“During Tuesday evening,” he stammered, repeating the phrase to gain time.
“I have him,” thought the magistrate, starting with joy, and then added aloud, “yes, from six o’clock until midnight.”
“I am afraid, sir,” answered Albert, “it will be difficult for me to satisfy you. I haven’t a very good memory.”
“Oh, don’t tell me that!” interrupted the magistrate. “If I had asked what you were doing three months ago, on a certain evening, and at a certain hour, I could understand your hesitation; but this is about Tuesday, and it is now Friday. Moreover, this day, so close, was the last of the carnival; it was Shrove Tuesday. That circumstance ought to help your memory.”
“That evening, I went out walking,” murmured Albert.
“Now,” continued the magistrate, “where did you dine?”
“At home, as usual.”
“No, not as usual. At the end of your meal, you asked for a bottle of Bordeaux, of which you drank the whole. You doubtless had need of some extra excitement for your subsequent plans.”
“I had no plans,” replied the prisoner with very evident uneasiness.
“You make a mistake. Two friends came to seek you. You replied to them, before sitting down to dinner, that you had a very important engagement to keep.”