John Treverton’s heart sank. Every one, even this unworldly old priest, looked upon the husband’s guilt as a matter of course. And, if his innocence should ever be put to the proof, how was he to prove it? It was much to have made this discovery about his first wife, and to know that his second marriage had been valid. He stood possessed of Jasper Treverton’s estate without a shadow of fraud. Although guilty in intention, he had been innocent in fact. But beyond this there remained that still darker peril, the possibility that he might have to stand in the dock, charged with La Chicot’s murder. The two priests helped to discuss a second bottle of Pomard, and then took their departure, after Father le Mescam had promised to introduce Mr. Treverton to a respectable notary, who would procure for him the legal evidence of Marie Pomellec’s marriage. While this was being done at Auray, John Treverton and his companion would travel without loss of time to Paris, and there search out the details of Jean Kergariou’s death and burial. The appointment with the notary was made for nine o’clock next morning, so eager was John Treverton to push on the business. ‘Well,’ gasped Sampson, when the two priests had gone, ‘if ever a man played patience on a monument for a long winter evening, I think I am that individual. Now they’ve gone, perhaps you’ll tell me what that ridiculous old Jack-in-the-box, Father le Whatshisname, has been saying to you. I never saw an old fellow gesticulate in such a frantic way. If I hadn’t been bursting with curiosity, I should have rather enjoyed the performance, as a piece of dumb show.’ John Treverton told his legal adviser the gist of all he had heard from the priest. ‘Didn’t I say so?’ exclaimed Sampson. ‘Didn’t I say that it was more than likely there was a former husband in the background? It was a desperate guess, of course, and I don’t know that I quite thought it when I made the suggestion. But anything was better than relinquishing the estate, as you would have been fool enough to do, if you hadn’t had a shrewdish young man for your legal adviser. One of those tip-top firms in the City would have gone straight off to take counsel’s opinion; and, before you knew where you were, you’d have been counselled and opinioned out of your property.’ Sampson was in a state of intense exultation at a result which he considered entirely due to his own acumen. He walked up and down the room, chuckling inwardly, in a burst of self-approval. His overstrung feelings at last sought relief in some kind of refreshment. He asked John Treverton to order him a glass of hot gin and water, and he was quite indignant when he was informed that the Pavillon d’en haut could not furnish that truly British luxury. ‘I dare say if I order you “a grog” you will get something in the shape of hot brandy and water,’ said Treverton. ‘Oh, pray don’t do anything of the kind. Ask that black-eyed girl to bring a jug--oh! here she is.’