, and the only
imprudence that he had committed, in a moment of aberration, seemed not
to have been observed; no one had noticed his presence in the cafe
opposite Caffie's house, and no one was astonished at his pertinacity in
remaining there at an hour so unusual.

But it was not enough that he was safe; he must prevent Florentin from
being unjustly condemned for a crime of which he was innocent. It was a
great deal that he should be imprisoned, that his sister should be in
despair, and his mother ill from chagrin; but if he should be sent to the
scaffold or to the galleys, it would be too much. In itself the death of
Caffie was a small thing; it became atrocious if it led to such an
ending.

He did not wish this to happen, and he would do everything not only to
prevent the condemnation, but to shorten the imprisonment.

It was this sentiment that he obeyed in going to see the judge; but the
manner in which he was received, showing him that the law was not
disposed to let its hypothesis be changed by a simple medical
demonstration, threw him into a state of uneasiness and perplexity.

Without doubt, any one else in his place would have let things take their
course, and since the law had a criminal with which it contented itself,
would have done nothing to release him. While it followed its hypothesis
to prove the criminality of the one it held, it would not look elsewhere;
when it had condemned him, all would be finished; the Caffie affair would
be buried, as Caffie himself was buried; silence and oblivion would give
him security. The crime punished, the conscience of the public satisfied,
it would ask for no more, not even to know if the debt was paid by the
one who really owed it; it was paid, and that was sufficient. But he was
not "any one else," and if he found the death of this old scamp
legitimate, it was on the condition that Florentin did not pay for it,
from whom he had not profited.

Florentin must be released as soon as possible, and it was his duty to
interest himself in his behalf--his imperative duty not only toward
Phillis, but toward himself.

He told Phillis that until Florentin came before the jury, he could do
nothing, or almost nothing. When the time came, he would assert his
authority, and speaking in the name of science, he would prove to the
jury that the story of the button was an invention of the police, who
were pushed to extremes, and would not bear examination; but until then
the poo