“But there is one thing,” continued the suspected man, “that the record will not tell you; that, disgusted with this abject life, I was tempted to suicide.  It will not tell you anything of my desperate attempts, my repentance, my relapses.  At last, I was able in part to reform.  I got work; and after being in four situations, engaged myself here.  I found myself well off.  I always spent my month’s wages in advance, it’s true—­but what would you have?  And ask if anyone has ever had to complain of me.”

It is well known that among the most intelligent criminals, those who have had a certain degree of education, and enjoyed some good fortune, are the most redoubtable.  According to this, Guespin was decidedly dangerous.  So thought those who heard him.  Meanwhile, exhausted by his excitement, he paused and wiped his face, covered with perspiration.

M. Domini had not lost sight of his plan of attack.

“All that is very well,” said he, “we will return to your confession at the proper time and place.  But just now the question is, how you spent your night, and where you got this money.”

This persistency seemed to exasperate Guespin.

“Eh!” cried he, “how do you want me to answer?  The truth?  You wouldn’t credit it.  As well keep silent.  It is a fatality.”

“I warn you for your own sake,” resumed the judge, “that if you persist in refusing to answer, the charges which weigh upon you are such that I will have you arrested as suspected of this murder.”

This menace seemed to have a remarkable effect on Guespin.  Great tears filled his eyes, up to that time dry and flashing, and silently rolled down his cheeks.  His energy was exhausted; he fell on his knees, crying: 

“Mercy!  I beg you, Monsieur, not to arrest me; I swear I am innocent, I swear it!”

“Speak, then.”

“You wish it,” said Guespin, rising.  Then he suddenly changed his tone.  “No, I will not speak, I cannot!  One man alone could save me; it is the count; and he is dead.  I am innocent; yet if the guilty are not found, I am lost.  Everything is against me.  I know it too well.  Now, do with me as you please; I will not say another word.”

Guespin’s determination, confirmed by his look, did not surprise the judge.

“You will reflect,” said he, quietly, “only, when you have reflected, I shall not have the same confidence in what you say as I should have now.  Possibly,” and the judge spoke slowly and with emphasis, “you have only had an indirect part in this crime; if so—­”

“Neither indirect nor direct,” interrupted Guespin; and he added, violently, “what misery!  To be innocent, and not able to defend myself.”

“Since it is so,” resumed M. Domini, “you should not object to be placed before Mme. de Tremorel’s body?”

The accused did not seem affected by this menace.  He was conducted into the hall whither they had fetched the countess.  There, he examined the body with a cold and calm eye.  He said, simply: