ithout looking at the barrels."

"Well?" asked M. Folgat.

"Well, sir, I--Anthony--I had the evening before--I say the evening
before--cleaned the gun, washed it, and"--

"Upon my word," cried M. de Chandore, "why did you not say so at once?
If the barrels are clean, that is an absolute proof that Jacques is
innocent."

The old servant shook his head, and said,--

"To be sure, sir. But are they clean?"

"Oh!"

"Master may have been mistaken as to the time when he last fired the
gun, and then the barrels would be soiled; and, instead of helping him,
my evidence might ruin him definitely. Before I say any thing, I ought
to be sure."

"Yes," said Folgat, approvingly, "and you have done well to keep
silence, my good man, and I cannot urge you too earnestly not to say a
word of it to any one. That fact may become a decisive argument for the
_defence_."

"Oh! I can keep my tongue, sir. Only you may imagine how impatient it
has made me to see these accursed seals which prevent me from going to
look at the gun. Oh, if I had dared to break one of them!"

"Poor fellow!"

"I thought of doing it; but I checked myself. Then it occurred to me
that other people might think of the same thing. The rascals who have
formed this abominable plot against Master Jacques are capable of any
thing, don't you think so? Why might not they come some night, and
break the seals? I put the steward on guard in the garden, beneath the
windows. I put his son as a sentinel into the courtyard; and I have
myself stood watch before the seals with arms in my hands all the time.
Let the rascals come on; they will find somebody to receive them."

In spite of all that is said, lawyers are better than their reputation.
Lawyers, accused of being sceptics above all men, are, on the contrary,
credulous and simple-minded. Their enthusiasm is sincere; and, when we
think they play a part, they are in earnest. In the majority of cases,
they fancy their own side the just one, even though they should be
beaten. Hour by hour, ever since his arrival at Sauveterre, M. Folgat's
faith in Jacques's innocence had steadily increased. Old Anthony's
tale was not made to shake his growing conviction. He did not admit the
existence of a plot, however; but he was not disinclined to believe
in the cunning calculations of some rascal, who, availing himself of
circumstances known to him alone, tried to let all suspicion fall upon
M. de Boiscoran, instead of himself.

Bu