plied the old man, "yes, I understand you."

"It will be a consolation to you," added the magistrate, "to learn that
M. Noel Gerdy is worthy in all respects of the high position that you
are about to restore to him. He is a man of great talent, better
and worthier than any one I know. You will have a son worthy of his
ancestors. And finally, no one of your family has disgraced it, sir, for
Viscount Albert is not a Commarin."

"No," rejoined the count quickly, "a Commarin would be dead at this
hour; and blood washes all away."

The old nobleman's remark set the investigating magistrate thinking
profoundly.

"Are you then sure," said he, "of the viscount's guilt?"

M. de Commarin gave the magistrate a look of intense surprise.

"I only arrived in Paris yesterday evening," he replied; "and I am
entirely ignorant of all that has occurred. I only know that justice
would not proceed without good cause against a man of Albert's rank. If
you have arrested him, it is quite evident that you have something more
than suspicion against him,--that you possess positive proofs."

M. Daburon bit his lips, and, for a moment, could not conceal a feeling
of displeasure. He had neglected his usual prudence, had moved too
quickly. He had believed the count's mind entirely upset; and now he had
aroused his distrust. All the skill in the world could not repair such
an unfortunate mistake. A witness on his guard is no longer a witness to
be depended upon; he trembles for fear of compromising himself, measures
the weight of the questions, and hesitates as to his answers.

On the other hand, justice, in the form of a magistrate, is disposed to
doubt everything, to imagine everything, and to suspect everybody.
How far was the count a stranger to the crime at La Jonchere? Although
doubting Albert's paternity, he would certainly have made great efforts
to save him. His story showed that he thought his honour in peril just
as much as his son. Was he not the man to suppress, by every means, an
inconvenient witness? Thus reasoned M. Daburon. And yet he could not
clearly see how the Count de Commarin's interests were concerned in the
matter. This uncertainty made him very uneasy.

"Sir," he asked, more sternly, "when were you informed of the discovery
of your secret?"

"Last evening, by Albert himself. He spoke to me of this sad story, in a
way which I now seek in vain to explain, unless--"

The count stopped short, as if his reason had been