ensible man. He, therefore, had nothing whatever to do with the matter.
To be quite sure though, I will make some inquiries about him. Another
thing, Widow Lerouge, who so readily exchanged the children while
nursing them, would be very likely to undertake a number of other
dangerous commissions. Who can say that she has not obliged other
persons who had an equal interest in getting rid of her? There is a
secret, I am getting at it, but I do not hold it yet. One thing is
certain though, she was not assassinated to prevent Noel recovering his
rights. She must have been suppressed for some analogous reason, by a
bold and experienced scoundrel, prompted by similar motives to those
of which I suspected Albert. It is, then, in that direction that I must
follow up the case now. And, above all, I must obtain the past history
of this obliging widow, and I will have it too, for in all probability
the particulars which have been written for from her birthplace will
arrive tomorrow."

Returning to Albert, old Tabaret weighed the charges which were brought
against the young man, and reckoned the chances which he still had in
favour of his release.

"From the look of things," he murmured, "I see only luck and myself,
that is to say absolutely nothing, in his favor at present. As to the
charges, they are countless. However, it is no use going over them.
It is I who amassed them; and I know what they are worth! At once
everything and nothing. What do signs prove, however striking they may
be, in cases where one ought to disbelieve even the evidence of one's
own senses? Albert is a victim of the most remarkable coincidences; but
one word might explain them. There have been many such cases. It was
even worse in the matter of the little tailor. At five o'clock, he
bought a knife, which he showed to ten of his friends, saying, 'This is
for my wife, who is an idle jade, and plays me false with my workmen.'
In the evening, the neighbours heard a terrible quarrel between the
couple, cries, threats, stampings, blows; then suddenly all was quiet.
The next day, the tailor had disappeared from his home, and the wife was
discovered dead, with the very same knife buried to the hilt between her
shoulders. Ah, well! it turned out it was not the husband who had stuck
it there; it was a jealous lover. After that, what is to be believed?
Albert, it is true, will not give an account of how he passed Tuesday
evening. That does not affect me. The questio