A.—­The priest at Brechy was my friend.  Our intimacy will explain, even if it does not justify, the liberty I took.

P.—­Do you also recognize this basin?  The water has been allowed to evaporate, and the residue alone remains there on the bottom.

A.—­It is true, that, when the magistrate appeared at my house, he found there the basin full of dark water, which was thick with half-burnt debris.  He asked me about this water, and I did not hesitate a moment to tell him that I had washed my hands in it the evening before, after my return home.

Is it not evident, that if I had been guilty, my first effort would have been to put every evidence of my crime out of the way?  And yet this circumstance is looked upon as the strongest evidence of my guilt, and the prosecution produces it as the most serious charge against me.

P.—­It is very strong and serious indeed.

A.—­Well, nothing can be more easily explained than that.  I am a great smoker.  When I left home the evening of the crime, I took cigars in abundance; but, when I was about to light one, I found that I had no matches.

M. Magloire rises, and says,—­

“And I wish to point out that this is not one of those explanations which are invented, after the fact, to meet the necessities of a doubtful case.  We have absolute and overwhelming proof of it.  M. de Boiscoran did not have the little match-box which he usually carries about him, at that time, because he had left it at M. de Chandore’s house, on the mantelpiece, where I have seen it, and where it still is.”

P.—­That is sufficient, M. Magloire.  Let the defendant go on.

A.—­I wanted to smoke; and so I resorted to the usual expedient, which all sportsmen know.  I tore open one of my cartridges, put, instead of the lead, a piece of paper inside, and set it on fire.

P.—­And thus you get a light?

A.—­Not always, but certainly in one case out of three.

P.—­And the operation blackens the hands?

A.—­Not the operation itself.  But, when I had lit my cigar, I could not throw away the burning paper as it was:  I might have kindled a regular fire.

P.—­In the marshes?

A.—­But, sir, I smoked five or six cigars during the evening, which means that I had to repeat the operation a dozen times at least, and in different places,—­in the woods and on the high-road.  Each time I quenched the fire with my fingers; and, as the powder is always greasy, my hands naturally became soon as black as those of a charcoal-burner.

The accused gives this explanation in a perfectly natural but still rather excited manner, which seems to make a great impression.

P.—­Let us go on to your gun.  Do you recognize it?

A.—­Yes, sir.  May I look at it?

P.—­Yes.

The accused takes up the gun with feverish eagerness, snaps the two cocks, and puts one of his fingers inside the barrels.