“Whether he be innocent or guilty,” said M. Magloire to his young colleague, “Jacques is lost, if we cannot get hold of some evidence against the Countess Claudieuse. And even in that case, even if it should be established that she is guilty, Jacques will always be looked upon as her accomplice.”
Nevertheless, they spent a part of the night in going over all the papers carefully, and in studying every point made by the prosecution.
Next morning, about nine o’clock, having had only a few hours’ sleep, they went together to the prison.
XVII.
The night before, the jailer of Sauveterre had said to his wife, at supper,—
“I am tired of the life I am leading here. They have paid me for my place, have not they? Well, I mean to go.”
“You are a fool!” his wife had replied. “As long as M. de Boiscoran is a prisoner there is a chance of profit. You don’t know how rich those Chandores are. You ought to stay.”
Like many other husbands, Blangin fancied he was master in his own house.
He remonstrated. He swore to make the ceiling fall down upon him. He demonstrated by the strength of his arm that he was master. But—
But, notwithstanding all this, Mrs. Blangin having decided that he should stay, he did stay. Sitting in front of his jail, and given up to the most dismal presentiments, he was smoking his pipe, when M. Magloire and M. Folgat appeared at the prison, and handed him M. Galpin’s permit. He rose as they came in. He was afraid of them, not knowing whether they were in Miss Dionysia’s secret or not. He therefore politely doffed his worsted cap, took his pipe from his mouth, and said,—