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"Your pardon, M. le Juge, you are too severe," protested M. Floçon, quite humbly. "Well! Look at it from all points of view. What have we got? What have we gained? Nothing, or, if anything, it is of the smallest, and it is already jeopardized, if not absolutely lost." "We have at least gained the positive assurance of the guilt of certain individuals."
"But she is not implicated; she was not in the car. I have not seen her since " "Since?" repeated M. Floçon, after a pause. "Since last night, at Amberieux, about eight o'clock. She helped me to undress, and saw me to bed. I sent her away then, and said I should not need her till we reached Paris. But I want her now, indeed I do." "She did not come to you at Laroche?" "No. Have I not said so?
"So I was going to fetch the water," went on the General angrily, eying the guard as though he would like to make another grab at him, "and this fellow interfered." "Very properly," added M. Floçon. "Then why didn't he go himself, or call some one? Upon my word, monsieur, you are not to be complimented upon your people, nor your methods.
Rollin shook his head, and, throwing himself back in his capacious chair, folded his arms, sunk his chin upon his breast and closed his eyes. Marrast continued his walk. Flocon remained silent and thoughtful. Albert gave a significant smile.
The man, Ludwig Groote, as he presently gave his name, thirty-two years of age, born at Amsterdam, looked such a sluggish, slouching, blear-eyed creature that M. Floçon began by a sharp rebuke. "Now. Sharp! Are you always like this?" cried the Chief. The porter still stared straight before him with lack-lustre eyes, and made no immediate reply.
At the same moment, Ledru Rollin entered in great agitation, and, having glanced hastily around, as if in search of some one in the assemblage, advanced straight to the journalist and grasped his hand. "By heavens, Armand, I think the hour has arrived!" "Whence do you come?" was the quick question. "From the Boulevards, where I left Flocon, Louis Blanc and M. Dantès, with the people.
His dress was plain but neat. Flocon was the chief editor of "La Réforme," the name of which indicates its character.
"I once met there," said Flocon, "Rachel, the actress, and Van Amburgh, the lion-king." "M. Dantès is a perfect Mæcenas in encouraging merit, as every one knows," remarked Marrast; "and he manifests especial solicitude to show that he appreciates worth more highly than wealth genius than station. Poverty and ability are sure recommendations to him."
I am a detective officer belonging to the Roman police." "What!" cried M. Floçon, colouring deeply. "This is unheard of. Why in the name of all the devils have you withheld this most astonishing statement until now?" "Monsieur surely remembers. I told him half an hour ago I had something important to communicate " "Yes, yes, of course. But why were you so reticent. Good Heavens!"
Why, there's Albert and Flocon haven't been able to get a franc cleverly warm in their pockets these ten years, before forth it was drawn in the form of a fine; while as for Marrast, he has the perfect air and bearing of a bandit, so often has he seen the inside of a dungeon; and our friend Albert isn't much better looking.
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