Josephine gave a start—she knew the terrible significance of the term. Complicity meant joint guilt.
"Excuse me, in place of 'complicity' perhaps we had better say 'compulsion.'"
"I don't follow you, Juve."
"We must bear in mind, your honour, that this girl is to be pardoned to a certain extent for having obeyed her lover's order, more particularly at a time when the latter had gained quite a victory over the police. For in spite of the protection of our people, his attempt against her partially succeeded."
Taken aback, M. Fuselier looked from the detective to the young woman whom he regarded as guilty. Juve's outburst seemed to him out of place.
"Your pardon, Juve, but your reasoning seems to me somewhat specious; however, I will not press this charge against the girl; we have something better."
Turning to Loupart's mistress, the judge asked abruptly:
"What has become of Lady Beltham?"
Josephine was amazed by the question. She turned inquiring eyes toward Juve, who quickly said: