"Well," said the judge, when he had finished reading, "you see what
your wife thinks of you. What do you say now?"

"There is not a word of truth in that letter. It is a tissue of
misstatements from beginning to end. You must place no reliance upon
it."

"There you must allow me to differ from you. This letter is, in my
belief, perfectly genuine. It supplies a most important link in the
chain of evidence, and I shall give it the weight it deserves. But
enough--will you still deny your guilt?"

"It is Ledantec's doing," said Gascoigne, following out a line of
thought of his own. "She was nothing loth, perhaps, for he has been
instilling insidious poison into her ears for these weeks past. I had
my suspicions, but could prove nothing; now I know. It was for this,
to put money in his purse for her extravagance, that he first robbed,
then struck down the baron."

"Why do you still persist in this shallow line of defence? You cannot
deceive me; it would be far better to make a clean breast of it at
once."

"I have already told you all I know. I repeat, I saw Ledantec strike
the blow."

"Psha! this is puerile. I will be frank with you. We have the fullest
and strongest evidence of your guilt--why, then, will you not confess
it?"