“And mentioned it to no one?”
“To my mother.”
“She also was content to have no receipt?”
“No. She was very uneasy.”
“How did you quiet her?”
“I am afraid I allowed her to believe I had received one.” The prisoner gave this answer in evident distress, and Maître Barraud clasped his chin with his hand. The fact evidently told against the accused.
“You never heard again from Monsieur de Cadanet?”
“I heard no more of him until I received the announcement of his death.”
As the examination ended there was a movement round Nathalie. The Assize Court of the Seine was densely crowded, and the pushing and squeezing caused by the new arrival would have roused any one less deeply interested. Nathalie, however, had eyes only for her husband, and it was not until a square, thick-set figure had forced himself into a seat by her side that she recognised her father. No greeting but a nod passed between them, each being too anxious to hear the next evidence. It was, however, of no great importance, the principal witnesses being André, the concierge, and the doctor, who testified to M. de Cadanet’s clearness of mind throughout his illness.
M. Charles Lemaire was next duly called, sworn, and interrogated by the Procureur. People noticed that on his appearance M. de Beaudrillart lifted his head, looked coolly at him, and allowed a smile of contemptuous scorn to pass across his face. On the other hand, Lemaire had the appearance of being quite at his ease. He glanced round the court, bowed to the judge, and turned to the Procureur with an air of extreme readiness. In answer to the interrogations, he replied with perfect smoothness. His evidence, in fact, might be considered irreproachable, saying neither too much nor too little. The six years which had passed had not improved his appearance—for he had grown much stouter, and his face was puffy—but they had taught him to conceal his feelings. He was careful to speak with perfect moderation of the prisoner. Asked whether at the time of the theft he and M. de Beaudrillart were on good terms, he said they had little to say to each other. Further pressed, he allowed that he had seen him lose very considerable sums at play, and it was the common talk in Paris that he had so greatly impoverished himself that Poissy might have to be sold. M. de Cadanet put a great many questions to him on the matter. He had no wish to prejudice him against the young man, and evaded his questions when he could; on the other hand, he did not profess any regard for him, and did not conceal the fact of his extravagance. Asked whether M. de Cadanet had ever expressed his intention of assisting the accused, he replied most emphatically no. He had, on the contrary, spoken of him with great indignation. But of course he could not profess to judge of M. de Cadanet’s private intentions.