“How could he confess when he is innocent?”
“Then he has explained?”
“As far as I am concerned, and M. Folgat, Dr. Seignebos, and all who know him and love him, yes, but not for the public, for his enemies, or the law. He has explained every thing; but he has no proof.”
The mournful features of the marquis settled into still deeper gloom.
“In other words, he has to be believed on his own word?” he asked.
“Don’t you believe him?”
“I am not the judge of that, but the jury.”
“Well, for the jury he will find proof. M. Folgat, who has come in the same train with me, and whom you will see to-day, hopes to discover proof.”
“Proof of what?”
Perhaps the marchioness was not unprepared for such a reception. She expected it, and still she was disconcerted.