“True, that appears from the deposition of the girl’s friend.”
“Consequently, if we discover Suky Wood, the Countess Claudieuse is unmasked.”
“If we discover her,” said M. Magloire. “And here, unfortunately, we enter into the region of suppositions.”
“Suppositions!” said M. Folgat. “Well, call them so; but they are based upon positive facts, and supported by a hundred precedents. Why should we not find this Suky Wood, whose birthplace and family we know, and who has no reason for concealment? Goudar has found very different people; and Goudar is on our side. And you may be sure he will not be asleep. I have held out to him a certain hope which will make him do miracles,—the hope of receiving as a reward, if he succeeds, the house in Vine Street. The stakes are too magnificent: he must win the game,—he who has won so many already. Who knows what he may not have discovered since we left him? Has he not done wonders already?”
“It is marvellous!” cried Jacques, amazed at these results.
Older than M. Folgat and Jacques, the eminent advocate of Sauveterre was less ready to feel such enthusiasm.
“Yes,” he said, “it is marvellous; and, if we had time, I would say as you do, ‘We shall carry the day!’ But there is no time for Goudar’s investigations: the sessions are on hand, and it seems to me it would be very difficult to obtain a postponement.”
“Besides, I do not wish it to be postponed,” said Jacques.
“But”—
“On no account, Magloire, never! What? I should endure three months more of this anguish which tortures me? I could not do it: my strength is exhausted. This uncertainty has been too much for me. I could bear no more suspense.”