is ears and ferocious
lightnings dart through his eyes.

"It is easy, moreover," continued M. Ginory, in a paternal tone, "for
you to reduce to nothingness all these suppositions, and the smallest
expression in regard to the role which you played in your last interview
with Rovere would put everything right."

"Ah! must we go back to that?"

"Certainly, we must go back to that! The whole question lies there! You
come to an Examining Magistrate and tell him that there is a secret; you
speak of a third person, of recollections of youth, of moral debts--and
you are astonished that the Judge strives to wrest the truth from you?"

"I have told it."

"The whole truth?"

"It has nothing to do with Rovere's murder, and it would injure some one
who knows nothing about it. I have told you so. I repeat it."

"Yes," said M. Ginory, "you hold to your enigma! Oh, well, I, the
Magistrate, demand that you reveal the truth to me. I command you to
tell it."

The registrar's pen ran over the paper and trembled as if it scented a
storm. The psychological moment approached. The registrar knew it
well--that moment--and the word which the Magistrate would soon
pronounce would be decisive.

A sort of struggle began in Dantin's mind--one saw his face grow
haggard, his eyes change their expression. He looked at the papers upon
which M. Ginory laid his fat and hairy hands; those police notes _which
gossiped_, as peasants say, in speaking of papers or writing which they
cannot read and which denounce them. He asked himself what more would be
disclosed by those notes of the police agents of the scandals of the
club, of the neighbors, of the porters. He passed his hands over his
forehead as if to wipe off the perspiration or to ease away a headache.

"Come, now, it is not very difficult, and I have the right to know,"
said M. Ginory. After a moment Jacques Dantin said in a strong voice: "I
swear to you, Monsieur, that nothing Rovere said to me when I saw him
the last time could assist justice in any whatsoever, and I beg of you
not to question me further about it."

"Will you answer?"

"I cannot, Monsieur."

"The more you hesitate the more reason you give me to think that the
communication would be grave."

"Very grave, but it has nothing to do with your investigation."

"It's not for you to outline the duties of my limits or my rights. Once
more, I order you to reply."

"I cannot."

"You will not."

"I cannot," brusquely sa