prisoner,
nor made him break through his reserve. It was necessary to take him
unawares.

"Sir," resumed the magistrate, abruptly, "tell me exactly how you passed
your time last Tuesday evening, from six o'clock until midnight?"

For the first time, Albert seemed disconcerted. His glance, which had,
till then, been fixed upon the magistrate, wavered.

"During Tuesday evening," he stammered, repeating the phrase to gain
time.

"I have him," thought the magistrate, starting with joy, and then added
aloud, "yes, from six o'clock until midnight."

"I am afraid, sir," answered Albert, "it will be difficult for me to
satisfy you. I haven't a very good memory."

"Oh, don't tell me that!" interrupted the magistrate. "If I had asked
what you were doing three months ago, on a certain evening, and at a
certain hour, I could understand your hesitation; but this is about
Tuesday, and it is now Friday. Moreover, this day, so close, was the
last of the carnival; it was Shrove Tuesday. That circumstance ought to
help your memory."

"That evening, I went out walking," murmured Albert.

"Now," continued the magistrate, "where did you dine?"

"At home, as usual."

"No, not as usual. At the end of your meal, you asked for a bottle of
Bordeaux, of which you drank the whole. You doubtless had need of some
extra excitement for your subsequent plans."

"I had no plans," replied the prisoner with very evident uneasiness.

"You make a mistake. Two friends came to seek you. You replied to them,
before sitting down to dinner, that you had a very important engagement
to keep."

"That was only a polite way of getting rid of them."

"Why?"

"Can you not understand, sir? I was resigned, but not comforted. I was
learning to get accustomed to the terrible blow. Would not one seek
solitude in the great crisis of one's life?"

"The prosecution pretends that you wished to be left alone, that you
might go to La Jonchere. During the day, you said, 'She can not resist
me.' Of whom were you speaking?"

"Of some one to whom I had written the evening before, and who had
replied to me. I spoke the words, with her letter still in my hands."

"This letter was, then, from a woman?"

"Yes."

"What have you done with it?"

"I have burnt it."

"This precaution leads one to suppose that you considered the letter
compromising."

"Not at all, sir; it treated entirely of private matters."

M. Daburon was sure that this letter came from Mad