"This is unheard-of!" cried he. "Incredible! Would you say, now, that this poison which he found in Sauvresy's body was stolen from his own laboratory? Why, that body is nothing more to him than 'suspected matter!' And he already imagines himself discussing the merits of his sensitive paper in court!" "He has reason to look for antagonists in court." "And meanwhile he makes his experiments, and analyzes with the coolest blood in the world; he continues his abominable cooking, boiling and filtering, and preparing his arguments--!" M. Lecoq did not share in his friend's indignation; he was not sorry at the prospect of a bitter struggle in court, and he imagined a great scientific duel, like that between Orfila and Raspail, the provincial and Parisian chemists. "If Tremorel has the face to deny his part in Sauvresy's murder," said he, "we shall have a superb trial of it." This word "trial" put an end to M. Plantat's long hesitation. "We mustn't have any trial," cried he. The old man's violence, from one who was usually so calm and self-possessed, seemed to amaze M. Lecoq. "Ah ha," thought he, "I'm going to know all." He added aloud: "What, no trial?" M. Plantat had turned whiter than a sheet; he was trembling, and his voice was hoarse, as if broken by sobs. "I would give my fortune," resumed he "to avoid a trial--every centime of it, though it doesn't amount to much. But how can we secure this wretch Tremorel from a conviction? What subterfuge shall we invent? You alone, my friend, can advise me in the frightful extremity to which you see me reduced, and aid me to accomplish what I wish. If there is any way in the world, you will find it and save me--" "But, my--" "Pardon--hear me, and you will comprehend me. I am going to be frank with you, as I would be with myself; and you will see the reason of my hesitation, my silence, in short, of all my conduct since the discovery of the crime." "I am listening."