“And, to be sure, the second day after that he gave me a set of papers, signatures, seals, all in perfect order.”

“The papers found in your room, you mean?” asked the lawyer.

“Exactly.”

“Where did Chevassat get them?”

“Get them?  Why, he had made them himself.  He can do anything he chooses with his pen, the scamp!  If he takes it into his head to imitate your own handwriting, you would never suspect it.”

Daniel and the old surgeon exchanged glances.  This was a strong and very important point in connection with the forged letter that had been sent to the navy department, and claimed to be signed by Daniel himself.  The magistrate was as much struck by the fact as they were; but his features remained unchanged; and, pursuing his plan in spite of all the incidents of the examination, he asked,—­

“These papers caused no suspicion?”

“None whatever.  I had only to show them, and they accepted me.  Besides, Chevassat said he would enlist some people in my behalf; perhaps I had been specially recommended.”

“And thus you sailed?”

“Yes.  They gave me my ticket, some money for travelling expenses; and, five days after my meeting with Chevassat, I was on board ’The Conquest.’  Lieut.  Champcey was not there.  Ah!  I began to hope he would not go out on the expedition at all.  Unfortunately, he arrived forty-eight hours afterwards, and we sailed at once.”

The marvellous coolness of the wretch showed clearly under his affected trouble; and, while it confounded Daniel and the old surgeon, it filled the faithful Lefloch with growing indignation.  He spoke of this abominable plot, of this assassination which had been so carefully plotted, and of the price agreed upon, and partly paid in advance, as if the whole had been a fair commercial operation.

“Now, Crochard,” said the lawyer, “I cannot impress it too strongly on your mind, how important it is for your own interests that you should tell the truth.  Remember, all your statements will be verified.  Do you know whether Chevassat lives in Paris under an assumed name?”

“No, sir!  I have always heard him called Chevassat by everybody.”

“What?  By everybody?”

“Well, I mean his concierge, his servants.”

The magistrate seemed for a moment to consider how he should frame his next question; and then he asked, all of a sudden,—­

“Suppose that the—­accident, as you call it, had succeeded, you would have taken ship; you would have arrived in France; you reach Paris; how would you have found Chevassat to claim your six thousand francs?”

“I should have gone to his house, where I breakfasted with him; and, if he had left, the concierge would have told me where he lived now.”

“Then you really think you saw him at his own rooms?  Consider.  If you left him only for a couple of hours, between the time when you first met him and the visit you paid him afterwards, he might very well have improvised a new domicile for himself.”