“I certainly have proved it.”
“Another man would have tried to solve the mystery.”
“But I have solved it, I should think.”
M. Daubigeon bowed ironically, and said,—
“I congratulate you. It must be delightful to know the secret of all things, only you may be mistaken. You are an excellent hand at such investigations; but I am an older man than you in the profession. The more I think in this case, the less I understand it. If you know every thing so perfectly well, I wish you would tell me what could have been the motive for the crime, for, after all, we do not run the risk of losing our head without some very powerful and tangible purpose. Where was Jacques’s interest? You will tell me he hated Count Claudieuse. But is that an answer. Come, go for a moment to your own conscience. But stop! No one likes to do that.”
M. Galpin was beginning to regret that he had ever come. He had hoped to find M. Daubigeon quite penitent, and here he was worse than ever.
“The Court of Inquiry has felt no such scruples,” he said dryly.
“No; but the jury may feel some. They are, occasionally, men of sense.”
“The jury will condemn M. de Boiscoran without hesitation.”
“I would not swear to that.”