‘I am sorry to say that I do. There is a very great chance—unless a good deal more comes to light than we know at present.’
‘But this is awful!’ He wrung his hands. ‘Awful! First it was poor Annette and now Felix! But you don’t mean that nothing can be done?’ There was real concern and anxiety in the young man’s tone.
Mr. Clifford was satisfied. This man’s affection for and belief in his friend were genuine. Felix could not be altogether a villain to inspire such friendship. The lawyer changed his tone.
‘No, Mr. Bonchose,’ he answered. ‘I do not mean that. All I mean is that the fight will not be easy. Mr. Felix’s friends will have to put their backs into it. And it is to begin that fight I asked you to call here as soon as you returned.’
‘I got back early this morning, and I was here before your office opened. Take that as the measure of my willingness to help.’
‘I do not doubt it, Mr. Bonchose. And now I want you please to tell me everything you can about Mr. Felix, and your own life, where it has touched his. Also about your unhappy cousin, the late Madame Boirac.’
‘I shall do so, and if at any point I am not clear, please ask me questions.’
Beginning by explaining who he and Annette really were—children of a younger daughter and the eldest son respectively of the late M. André Humbert of Laroche—he gave an account of their childhood, their early love of art, their moving to M. Dauphin’s school in Paris, the meeting with Felix, and the latter’s love for Annette. Then he told of his move to the wine merchant’s firm at Narbonne, his being sent to London, his joy at again meeting Felix, his weakness for cards, the help Felix had given him, and the recent serious money difficulties into which he had fallen. He recounted his having written on the matter to Annette, the hope expressed to Felix that he would see her on the subject, his meeting the artist at Charing Cross on the Sunday evening of his return to London, their dinner together, the receipt of the £600, and finally Felix’s departure in a taxi for St. Malo.
His whole statement, thought Clifford, was singularly like those of Mrs. Murphy, the Gresham waiter, and the ticket-collector at Brent Station, in that, while it confirmed what Felix had said and strengthened the lawyer’s growing belief in the artist’s innocence, it was of very little use for the trial. It was true that he, Clifford, was now in a position to prove most of Felix’s statement, but the worst of it was that most of Felix’s statement might be proved without proving Felix’s innocence. So much so, indeed, that Clifford could not yet quite banish the suspicion that the whole thing was pre-arranged.
He questioned Mr. Bonchose exhaustively, but without learning anything fresh. His visitor had not seen the artist on the Wednesday or Thursday, and could not help towards the alibi. Finding that nothing was to be gained by further conversation, Clifford bowed the young man out, having promised to let him know how things progressed.