“Indeed they must,” replied his host, with such assurance that the old man’s doubts were stilled by it.
“Something is working out in you,” he said, “and it acts on those you talk with and convinces them. Yes, your defence of your son will be better than that of any other advocate. You have the will and the authority. It will be an honour for me to assist you to-morrow. Good-bye. I will go now and let you work.”
He draped his shabby overcoat over his thin shoulders, and with a suddenly furtive air made for the door, his host following him.
“Margaret!” called Mr. Roquevillard, after having let the president out.
The girl was waiting in the next room for the moment when her father should be ready for her, and appeared at once.
“Here I am.”
“Come in. I want to talk with you.”
He led her into his study and questioned her rapidly.
“You went to see Maurice in prison?”
“Yes, father; we cried together.”