Then, reverting to the mystery of the matter, he declared that its solution was in the hands of time, which would eventually reveal the injustice of the charge.  Once on this ground, he boldly and ingeniously supposed himself a juror; related his deliberations with his colleagues; imagined his distress lest, having condemned the innocent, the error should be known too late, and drew such a picture of his remorse, dwelling on the grave doubts which the case presented, that he brought the jury to a condition of intense anxiety.

Juries were not in those days so blase to this sort of allocution as they are now; Monsieur de Grandville’s appeal had the power of things new, and the jurors were evidently shaken.  After this passionate outburst they had to listen to the wily and specious prosecutor, who went over the whole case, brought out the darkest points against the prisoners and made the rest inexplicable.  His aim was to reach the minds and the reasoning faculties of his hearers just as Monsieur de Grandville had aimed at the heart and the imagination.  The latter, however, had seriously entangled the convictions of the jury, and the public prosecutor found his well-laid arguments ineffectual.  This was so plain that the counsel for the Messieurs d’Hauteserre and Gothard appealed to the judgment of the jury, asking that the case against their clients be abandoned.  The prosecutor demanded a postponement till the next day in order that he might prepare an answer.  Bordin, who saw acquittal in the eyes of the jury if they deliberated on the case at once, opposed the delay of even one night by arguments of legal right and justice to his innocent clients; but in vain,—­the court allowed it.

“The interests of society are as great as those of the accused,” said the president.  “The court would be lacking in equity if it denied a like request when made by the defence; it ought therefore to grant that of the prosecution.”

“All is luck or ill-luck!” said Bordin to his clients when the session was over.  “Almost acquitted tonight you may be condemned to-morrow.”

“In either case,” said the elder de Simeuse, “we can only admire your skill.”

Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne’s eyes were full of tears.  After the doubts and fears of the counsel for the defence, she had not expected this success.  Those around her congratulated her and predicted the acquittal of her cousins.  But alas! the matter was destined to end in a startling and almost theatrical event, the most unexpected and disastrous circumstance which ever changed the face of a criminal trial.