He seemed to have quite forgotten the priest's errand, or not to have understood what it meant.
“What you say may be all true,” F. Chevreuse replied calmly. “But that can be thought of another time. You have something more pleasant to dwell on now. Have you understood my errand here?”
In spite of the deep and wearing excitement under which he labored, Mr. Schöninger perceived that his visitor was trying to soothe him, and was somewhat alarmed at his violence. He controlled himself, therefore, and, as much from physical weakness as from a desire to appear self-possessed, resumed his seat, motioning his visitor to another.
“From the time when Annette Ferrier came here and begged me to fly, I have known whose place I was occupying,” he said in measured tones, his gaze fixed steadily upon the priest's face. “I sent for my lawyer the next morning, and put him on the track. I had not enough proof to prevent the fellow going away; but his every step has been followed. I know where he stopped in London and in Paris; and a despatch from Rome has come saying he is there. To-morrow morning an answer will be sent to that telegram, ordering his arrest.”
F. Chevreuse was confounded. For a moment he knew not what to say.
“I think you will perceive that I do not need your assistance, sir,” Mr. Schöninger continued haughtily. “The power is in my hands, and I shall use it as seems to me best.”
“And so,” said the priest, recovering his speech, “you are willing, from pride and a desire for revenge, to stay here weeks, perhaps months, longer, and await the result of another trial, rather than accept the tardy justice which that unhappy man offers you, not knowing that you suspected him, and rather than permit me to be the medium of his reparation! I can make great allowances for the effect which your terrible wrongs and sufferings must necessarily have produced on your mind; but I did not expect to see you show a needless acrimony. I did not think that you would wish to strike down a man, even one who had injured you, in order to take violently what he offers you with an open hand, not knowing, remember, that you have the power to compel him.”
Mr. Schöninger still looked steadfastly at his companion, but with a changed expression. He looked no longer suspicious, but uncomprehending. Indeed, his mind was so preoccupied and excited that he had only half listened to the priest's communication, and the only impression he had received was that Lawrence Gerald's friends, knowing his danger, were trying to temporize, and that, while securing his escape, they would obtain the release of his substitute by some quibble of the law. He was not sufficiently recollected to perceive, what he would at any other time have acknowledged, that F. Chevreuse was not the man to lend himself to such a plot in any case, still less in this.
“Four weeks ago,” the priest resumed, “Lawrence Gerald and his wife gave me a packet which [pg 484] was to be opened and acted on to-day. They were going away for a little journey, they said. I did not know where they were going, and I do not know, nor wish to know, where they are. I will not interfere with the course of the law, nor shield any offender from justice, especially at the cost of the innocent. But since, in this case, I have been the sufferer by that crime, I claim the right to forgive, and to wish, at least, that the criminal, whoever he may be, should be left to the stings of his own conscience. I would have said the same for you had I ever believed you guilty. That packet contains Lawrence Gerald's confession. Only two persons have been allowed to know it before you, besides the two who had to prepare them for the reception of such news. The mothers had a right prior even to yours, and I needed two assistants. Now, whatever you may do, my duty is the same. I have to place that confession in the hands of the authorities, and testify that I received it from Lawrence Gerald and his wife, and that I signed without reading it. Then my work will be done. I do not know much of the technicalities of the law, nor what delays may be necessary; but I presume your further detention will be short and merely nominal.”
He paused, but Mr. Schöninger made no reply: he only sat and listened, and looked attentively at the speaker.