The young lawyer stopped him by a friendly gesture, and said,—
“If I were to offer you ten thousand francs?”
“A year’s income.”
“If I offered you fifteen thousand!”
Goudar made no reply; but his eyes spoke.
“It is a most interesting case, this case of M. de Boiscoran,” continued M. Folgat, “and such as does not occur often. The man who should expose the emptiness of the accusation would make a great reputation for himself.”
“Would he make friends also at the bar?”
“I admit he would not.”
The detective shook his head.
“Well, I confess,” he said, “I do not work for glory, nor from love of my art. I know very well that vanity is the great motive-power with some of my colleagues; but I am more practical. I have never liked my profession; and, if I continue to practise it, it is because I have not the money to go into any other. It drives my wife to despair, besides: she is only half alive as long as I am away; and she trembles every morning for fear I may be brought home with a knife between my shoulders.”