Ganimard did not reply. That escape for which he deemed himself responsible⁠—was it not he, Ganimard, who, by his sensational evidence, had led the court into serious error? That escape appeared to him like a dark cloud on his professional career. A tear rolled down his cheek to his gray moustache.

“Oh! mon Dieu , Ganimard, don’t take it to heart. If you had not spoken, I would have arranged for someone else to do it. I couldn’t allow poor Baudru Désiré to be convicted.”

“Then,” murmured Ganimard, “it was you that was there? And now you are here?”

“It is I, always I, only I.”

“Can it be possible?”

“Oh, it is not the work of a sorcerer. Simply, as the judge remarked at the trial, the apprenticeship of a dozen years that equips a man to cope successfully with all the obstacles in life.”