have aided your search, that you thus address yourself?  Have you come to confide in me, to ask for advice, for consolation?  No, you accuse me; very well! then I refuse to speak, because, having no proofs, you yet accuse an honest man; because your fears, whether real or imaginary, do not excuse you for casting, I know not what odious suspicions, on a blameless reputation, because I have the right to be offended.  Monsieur” he continued, turning to the magistrate, “I believe you will appreciate my moderation, and will allow me to retire.  If charges are brought against me, I am quite ready to meet them, and to show what they are really worth.  I shall remain in Paris, I have now no business which requires my presence elsewhere.”

He emphasised these last words, evidently intending to draw attention to them.  It did not escape the magistrate, who inquired—­

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing beyond my words, your Honour, Have I your permission to retire?”

“No, remain; you are pretending not to understand.”

“I do not understand these insinuations so covertly made.”

Monsieur de Lamotte rose, exclaiming—­

“Insinuations!  What more can I say to compel you to answer?  My wife and son have disappeared.  It is untrue that, as you pretend, they have been at Versailles.  You deceived me at Buisson-Souef, just as you are deceiving me now, as you are endeavouring to deceive justice by inventing fresh lies.  Where are they?  What has become of them?  I am tormented by all the fears possible to a husband and father; I imagine all the most terrible misfortunes, and I accuse you to your face of having caused their death!  Is this sufficient, or do you still accuse me of covert insinuations?”

Derues turned to the magistrate.  “Is this charge enough to place me in the position of a criminal if I do not give a satisfactory explanation?”

“Certainly; you should have thought of that sooner.”

“Then,” he continued, addressing Monsieur de Lamotte, “I understand you persist in this odious accusation?”

“I certainly persist in it.”

“You have forgotten our friendship, broken all bonds between us:  I am in your eyes only a miserable assassin?  You consider my silence as guilty, you will ruin me if I do not speak?”

“It is true.”

“There is still time for reflection; consider what you are doing; I will forget your insults and your anger.  Your trouble is great enough without my reproaches being added to it.  But you desire that I should speak, you desire it absolutely?”

“I do desire it.”

“Very well, then; it shall be as you wish.”

Derues surveyed Monsieur de Lamotte with a look which seemed to say, “I pity you.”  He then added, with a sigh—­

“I am now ready to answer.  Your Honour, will you have the kindness to resume my examination?”