The very way in which people returned his greeting, or avoided him altogether, made the magistrate aware of the feelings they entertained for him. This only increased his wrath against Jacques, and, with it his trouble. He had been congratulated, it is true, by the attorney-general; but there is no certainty in a trial, as long as the accused refuses to confess. The charges against Jacques, to be sure, were so overwhelming, that his being sent before the court was out of question. But by the side of the court there is still the jury.
“And in fine, my dear,” said the commonwealth attorney, “you have not a single eye-witness. And from time immemorial an eye-witness has been looked upon as worth a hundred hearsays.”
“I have Cocoleu,” said M. Galpin, who was rather impatient of all these objections.
“Have the doctors decided that he is not an idiot?”
“No: Dr. Seignebos alone maintains that doctrine.”
“Well, at least Cocoleu is willing to repeat his evidence?”
“No.”
“Why, then you have virtually no witness!”
Yes, M. Galpin understood it but too well, and hence his anxiety. The more he studied his accused, the more he found him in an enigmatic and threatening position, which was ominous of evil.
“Can he have an alibi?” he thought. “Or does he hold in reserve one of those unforeseen revelations, which at the last moment destroy the whole edifice of the prosecution, and cover the prosecuting attorney with ridicule?”