“To-night?”
“To-morrow, I hope.”
“Meanwhile we must think, we must act for him,” she said, driving back her own anguish. “Who do you suggest for his counsel!”
“Madame, there can be no better than Maître Barraud, and I went to him on receipt of your telegram. He was so touched by the baron’s action that he at last consented. The Procureur de la République is Maître Miron.”
“He is terribly formidable!” cried Nathalie.
“It is impossible to deny it; both are of the first rank, and I own frankly that I do not think there is a sou to choose between them. But I am quite content to have secured my man. One thing is necessary, and I should like you to impress it strongly upon monsieur le baron: that he must be absolutely frank with Maître Barraud, place the matter clearly in his hands, and permit himself no reservations.”
She smiled faintly.
“Reservations are at an end, Monsieur Rodoin.”
“All the better. Our one chance lies in perfect openness. We tell our story as it happened; it is for the jury to judge of the probabilities. Unfortunately, we must bear in mind that it is not always truth which carries the most innocent face. This Lemaire has a lie tucked away somewhere, and he will naturally take more pains with it than with any other part of his case. But if once Maître Barraud gets his finger on it he will have it out.”
“The lie,” said Nathalie, calmly, “says that my husband never repaid the money.”