desire him to take
his own life, and if you had no intention of killing him, what did you
want?"

"Oblivion," said Etienne Rambert, more calmly this time. "It was not for
me to give my son up, and I could only desire for him oblivion, and if
that was impossible, then death. I implored him to think of the life
that was before him, and the future of shame, and I urged him to
disappear for ever."

"Ah, you admit you did recommend him to commit suicide?"

"I mean I wanted him to go abroad."

The president feigned to be occupied with his notes, purposely giving
time for the importance of the last admission he had wrung from Etienne
Rambert to sink into the minds of the jury. Then, without raising his
head, he asked abruptly:

"You were very surprised to hear of his death?"

"No," said Rambert dully.

"How did you part from each other?"

"The last night we slept out of doors, under a stack; we were both worn
out and heart-sick; I prayed God of His mercy to have pity on us. It was
by the bank of the Dordogne. Next morning when I woke up I was alone.
He--my son--had disappeared. I know no more."

The judge quelled the emotion in the court by a threatening glance, and
sprang a question on the defendant which was like a trap to catch him
lying.

"If at that time you knew no more, how was it that a few days later you
called on Inspector Juve and asked him at once what was known about the
dead body of your son? The body had only been recovered within the
previous hour or two, and had not been absolutely identified; the
newspapers, at any rate, only suggested the identity, with the utmost
reserve. But you, sir, had no doubt on the subject! You knew that the
corpse was that of your son! Why? How?"

It was one of the strongest points that could be made in support of the
theory that Etienne Rambert had murdered his son, and the defendant
immediately saw the difficulty he would have in giving an adequate
answer without compromising himself. He turned to the jury, as though he
had more hope in them than in the court.

"Gentlemen," he cried, "this is torture! I can bear no more! I cannot
answer any more. You know quite enough to form your judgment of me! Form
it now! Say if I failed in my duty as a man of honour and a father! I,
at least, can answer no more questions!" and he sank back in his place
like a beaten man, crushed by the distress evoked by all these painful
memories.

The judge nodded to the jury with the grim