“And what more?” asked the magistrate.
“I am an old man,” he muttered between his teeth; “do not force me to confess my own ignominy.”
The magistrate was satisfied. When he asked the old man whether his suspicion had not already fallen on Michel Raudszus, he chuckled mysteriously to himself and murmured,
“He may have furnished the hand, the miserable hand, but—” he stopped.
“But?”
“It is a pity, sir, that justice wears a bandage over her eyes,” he answered, with a sneering laugh. “I have nothing more to add.”
Magistrate and clerk looked at each other, shaking their heads; then the examination was closed.
“Will Michel Raudszus be arrested?” Paul asked the gentlemen before they got into their carriage.
“Let us hope that has been done already,” the magistrate answered. “He has made all sorts of suspicious allusions when drunk, and what we have learned from you is more than enough evidence to begin a trial against him. Of course many things will still have to be cleared up.”
Then they drove away.