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Updated: June 20, 2025
Confess, can't you? In spite of everything, you're tortured by remorse. Remember your dismay, at the restaurant, when you had seen the newspaper. What? Jacques Aubrieux condemned to die? That's more than you bargained for! Penal servitude would have suited your book; but the scaffold!... Jacques Aubrieux executed to-morrow, an innocent man!... Confess, won't you? Confess to save your own skin!
Hortense was stirred to the very depths of her being. The life of an innocent man hung trembling in the balance. An error of judgment, a little bad luck ... and, twelve hours later, Jacques Aubrieux would be put to death. And together with a horrible anguish she experienced, in spite of all, a feeling of eager curiosity. What was Prince Renine going to do?
No one has the key except myself." "One can get in without a key." "But I have seen no marks of any kind." Morisseau intervened: "Come, let us understand one another. You say the bank-notes were hidden in M. Dutreuil's flat?" "Yes." "Then, as Jacques Aubrieux was arrested the next morning, the notes ought to be there still?" "That's my opinion."
She must be beside herself with grief." "Can I offer you my assistance? I am Prince Renine. This lady and I would be happy to call on Madame Aubrieux and to place our services at her disposal." The young man, upset by the news which he had read, seemed not to understand. He introduced himself awkwardly: "My name is Dutreuil, Gaston Dutreuil."
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