“Are you sure of that?” asked Monsieur de Granville, his face full of pained surprise.
“You shall hear, Monsieur le Comte, what reason I have to fear such a misfortune.
When I untied the papers found in the young man’s rooms, Jacques Collin gave a keen look at the parcel, and smiled with satisfaction in a way that no examining judge could misunderstand.
So deep a villain as Jacques Collin takes good care not to let such a weapon slip through his fingers.
What is to be said if these documents should be placed in the hands of counsel chosen by that rascal from among the foes of the government and the aristocracy!
— My wife, to whom the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse has shown so much kindness, is gone to warn her, and by this time they must be with the Grandlieus holding council.”
“But we cannot possibly try the man!” cried the public prosecutor, rising and striding up and down the room. “He must have put the papers in some safe place ——”
“I know where,” said Camusot.
These words finally effaced every prejudice the public prosecutor had felt against him.
“Well, then ——” said Monsieur de Granville, sitting down again.
“On my way here this morning I reflected deeply on this miserable business.
Jacques Collin has an aunt — an aunt by nature, not putative — a woman concerning whom the superior police have communicated a report to the Prefecture.
He is this woman’s pupil and idol; she is his father’s sister, her name is Jacqueline Collin.
This wretched woman carries on a trade as a wardrobe purchaser, and by the connection this business has secured her she gets hold of many family secrets.
If Jacques Collin has intrusted those papers, which would be his salvation, to any one’s keeping, it is to that of this creature. Have her arrested.”
The public prosecutor gave Camusot a keen look, as much as to say,
“This man is not such a fool as I thought him; he is still young, and does not yet know how to handle the reins of justice.”
“But,” Camusot went on, “in order to succeed, we must give up all the plans we laid yesterday, and I came to take your advice — your orders ——”
The public prosecutor took up his paper-knife and tapped it against the edge of the table with one of the tricky movements familiar to thoughtful men when they give themselves up to meditation.
“Three noble families involved!” he exclaimed. “We must not make the smallest blunder!
— You are right: as a first step let us act on Fouche’s principle,
‘Arrest!’— and Jacques Collin must at once be sent back to the secret cells.”
“That is to proclaim him a convict and to ruin Lucien’s memory!”
“What a desperate business!” said Monsieur de Granville. “There is danger on every side.”
At this instant the governor of the Conciergerie came in, not without knocking; and the private room of a public prosecutor is so well guarded, that only those concerned about the courts may even knock at the door.
“Monsieur le Comte,” said Monsieur Gault, “the prisoner calling himself Carlos Herrera wishes to speak with you.”
“Has he had communication with anybody?” asked Monsieur de Granville.
“With all the prisoners, for he has been out in the yard since about half-past seven.
And he has seen the condemned man, who would seem to have talked to him.”
A speech of Camusot’s, which recurred to his mind like a flash of light, showed Monsieur de Granville all the advantage that might be taken of a confession of intimacy between Jacques Collin and Theodore Calvi to obtain the letters.
The public prosecutor, glad to have an excuse for postponing the execution, beckoned Monsieur Gault to his side.
“I intend,” said he, “to put off the execution till to-morrow; but let no one in the prison suspect it.
Absolute silence!
Let the executioner seem to be superintending the preparations.
“Send the Spanish priest here under a strong guard; the Spanish Embassy claims his person!
Gendarmes can bring up the self-styled Carlos by your back stairs so that he may see no one.
Instruct the men each to hold him by one arm, and never let him go till they reach this door.
“Are you sure, Monsieur Gault, that this dangerous foreigner has spoken to no one but the prisoners!”
“Ah! just as he came out of the condemned cell a lady came to see him ——”
The two magistrates exchanged looks, and such looks!
“What lady was that!” asked Camusot.
“One of his penitents — a Marquise,” replied Gault.
“Worse and worse!” said Monsieur de Granville, looking at Camusot.
“She gave all the gendarmes and warders a sick headache,” said Monsieur Gault, much puzzled.
“Nothing can be a matter of indifference in your business,” said the public prosecutor. “The Conciergerie has not such tremendous walls for nothing.
How did this lady get in?”
“With a regular permit, monsieur,” replied the governor. “The lady, beautifully dressed, in a fine carriage with a footman and a chasseur, came to see her confessor before going to the funeral of the poor young man whose body you had had removed.”
“Bring me the order for admission,” said Monsieur de Granville.
“It was given on the recommendation of the Comte de Serizy.”
“What was the woman like?” asked the public prosecutor.