“This fact only is established, that every thing he took with him when he left Paris was new,—­his tools, the linen in his valise, the clothes he wore, from the cap on his head to his shoes.  Why were they all new?”

As the magistrate had now reached the last line on the first sheet, the surgeon rose, bowed low, and said,—­

“Upon my word, sir, I surrender; and I do begin to hope that Lieut.  Champcey may still be avenged.”

A smile of pleased pride appeared for a moment on the lips of the lawyer; but assuming his mask of impassiveness instantly again, as if he had been ashamed of his weakness, he said with delicate irony,—­

“I really think human justice may this time reach the guilty.  But wait before you congratulate me.”

The old surgeon was too candid to make even an attempt at concealing his astonishment.

“What!” he said, “you have more evidence still?”

The magistrate gravely shook his head, and said,—­

“The biography which I have just read establishes nothing.  We do not succeed by probabilities and presumptions; however strong they are in convincing a jury.  They want and require proof, positive proof, before they condemn.  Well, such proof I have.”

“Oh!”

From the same box from which he had taken the papers concerning Crochard he now drew a letter, which he shook in the air with a threatening gesture.  “Here is something,” he said, “which was sent to the state attorney twelve days after the last attempt had been made on M. Champcey’s life.  Listen!” And he read thus,—­

“Sir,—­A sailor, who has come over to Boen-Hoa, where I live with my wife, has told us that a certain Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet, has shot, and perhaps mortally wounded, Lieut.  Champcey of the ship ‘Conquest.’

“In connection with this misfortune, my wife thinks, and I also consider it a matter of conscience, that we should make known to you a very serious matter.

“One day I happened to be on a yardarm, side by side with Crochard, helping the sailors to furl a sail, when I saw him drop a huge block, which fell upon Lieut.  Champcey, and knocked him down.

“No one else had noticed it; and Crochard instantly pulled up the block again.  I was just considering whether I ought to report him, when he fell at my feet, and implored me to keep it secret; for he had been very unfortunate in life, and if I spoke he would be ruined.

“Thinking that he had been simply awkward, I allowed myself to be moved, and swore to Crochard that the matter should remain between us.  But what has happened since proves very clearly, as my wife says, that I was wrong to keep silence; and I am ready now to tell all, whatever may be the consequences.

“Still, sir, I beg you will protect me, in case Crochard should think of avenging himself on me or on my family,—­a thing which might very easily happen, as he is a very bad man, capable of any thing.