M. Tabaret looked
frightened, and even the clerk seemed moved.
"Constant," said M. Daburon quickly, "go with M. Tabaret, and see if
there's any news at the Prefecture."
The clerk left the room, followed by the detective, who went away
regretfully. The count had not noticed their presence; he paid no
attention to their departure.
M. Daburon offered him a seat, which he accepted with a sad smile. "I
feel so weak," said he, "you must excuse my sitting."
Apologies to an investigating magistrate! What an advance in
civilisation, when the nobles consider themselves subject to the law,
and bow to its decrees! Every one respects justice now-a-days, and fears
it a little, even when only represented by a simple and conscientious
investigating magistrate.
"You are, perhaps, too unwell, count," said the magistrate, "to give me
the explanations I had hoped for."
"I am better, thank you," replied M. de Commarin, "I am as well as could
be expected after the shock I have received. When I heard of the crime
of which my son is accused, and of his arrest, I was thunderstruck.
I believed myself a strong man; but I rolled in the dust. My servants
thought me dead.
Pages:
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309