"
M. Daburon had arranged his papers, and finished his preparations. He
took up his hat, and, as he prepared to leave, replied: "You must then
see that I am right. Come and see me by-and-by, M. Tabaret, and make
haste and get rid of all your foolish ideas. To-morrow we will talk the
whole matter over again. I am rather tired to-night." Then he added,
addressing his clerk, "Constant, look in at the record office, in case
the prisoner Commarin should wish to speak to me."
He moved towards the door; but M. Tabaret barred his exit.
"Sir," said the old man, "in the name of heaven listen to me! He is
innocent, I swear to you. Help me, then, to find the real culprit. Sir,
think of your remorse should you cause an--"
But the magistrate would not hear more. He pushed old Tabaret quickly
aside, and hurried out.
The old man now turned to Constant. He wished to convince him. Lost
trouble: the tall clerk hastened to put his things away, thinking of his
soup, which was getting cold.
So that M. Tabaret soon found himself locked out of the room and alone
in the dark passage. All the usual sounds of the Palais had ceased: the
place was silent as the tomb.
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