The Baron d’Escorval had just signed his death-warrant. How strange is destiny! He was innocent, and yet he was the only one among all the prisoners, whom a regular tribunal could have legally condemned. Maurice and the abbe were overcome with grief; but Chanlouineau, who turned towards them, had still the same smile of confidence on his lips. How could he hope when all hope seemed absolutely lost?
The commissioners made no attempt to conceal their satisfaction, and M. de Sairmeuse, especially, evinced an indecent joy. “Ah, well! gentlemen, what do you say to that?” he remarked to the lawyers, in a sneering tone.
The counsel for the defence were unable to conceal their discouragement; though they still endeavoured to question the validity of their client’s declaration. He had said that he _suspected_ the conspiracy, not that he _knew_ of it, which was a very different thing.
“Say at once that you wish for still more overwhelming testimony,” interrupted the duke. “Very well! You shall have it. Continue your evidence, witness.”
“The prisoner,” continued Chupin, “was present at all the conferences held at Lacheneur’s house; and having to cross the Oiselle each time, and fearing lest the ferryman might speak about his frequent nocturnal journeys, he had an old boat repaired, which he had not used for years.”
“Ah! that’s a remarkable circumstance, prisoner; do you recollect having your boat repaired?”
“Yes; but not for the purpose this man mentions.”
The baron made no reply. Was it not in compliance with Maurice’s request, that this boat had been put in order?
“And finally,” continued Chupin, “when Lacheneur set fire to his house as a signal for the insurrection, the prisoner was with him.”
“That,” exclaimed the duke, “is conclusive evidence.”
“Yes, I was at La Reche,” interrupted the baron; “but as I have already told you, it was with the firm determination of preventing this outbreak.”
M. de Sairmeuse laughed disdainfully. “Ah, gentlemen!” he said, addressing his fellow commissioners, “you see that the prisoner’s courage does not equal his depravity. But I will confound him. What did you do, prisoner, when the insurgents left La Reche?”
“I returned home with all possible speed, took a horse and hastened to the Croix-d’Arcy.”