d'Escorval's clerk. So they could
say nothing. The magistrate asked a few common-place questions, in a
troubled voice, and the prisoner, terribly agitated, replied as best
he could. Now, after leaving the cell, M. d'Escorval no doubt said to
himself: 'I can't investigate the offenses of a man I hate!' He was
certainly terribly perplexed. When you tried to speak to him, as he was
leaving the prison, he harshly told you to wait till the next day; and a
quarter of an hour later he pretended to fall down and break his leg."
"Then you think that M. d'Escorval and May are enemies?" inquired Lecoq.
"Don't the facts prove that beyond a doubt?" retorted Tabaret. "If they
had been friends, the magistrate might have acted in the same manner;
but then the prisoner wouldn't have attempted to strangle himself. But
thanks to you; his life was saved; for he owes his life to you. During
the night, confined in a straight-waistcoat, he was powerless to injure
himself. Ah! how he must have suffered that night! What agony! So,
in the morning, when he was conducted to the magistrate's room for
examination, it was with a sort of frenzy that he dashed into the
dreaded presence of his enemy. He expected to find M. d'Escorval there,
ready to triumph over his misfortunes; and he intended to say: 'Yes,
it's I. There is a fatality in it. I have killed three men, and I am
in your power. But there is a mortal feud between us, and for that
very reason you haven't the right to prolong my tortures! It would be
infamous cowardice if you did so.
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