The widow Roquevillard, since the beginning of the conference, had been chiding her son below her breath for the views he took. He got his downright intelligence from her, but not her kindness. She made up her mind now to support him openly against this old man who preached such a strange morality. “Would you have us respect such creatures?” she asked. The head of the family silenced the futile quarrel with a wave of his hand. “Let me finish,” he said. “When the time comes I’ll ask you for your opinions. Maurice is opposed to any accusation against Mrs. Frasne. It does not concern us now whether he is right or wrong, because his mind is made up, and we can do nothing with him. If the defence goes beyond the limit he has set for it, he will take the blame upon himself, he says, rather than sanction her being named. He would rather charge himself with the crime than that. What will happen in these circumstances? That is the question, and nothing else. The jury, forced to accept the material fact of theft, which cannot be denied, impressed by the loss of so considerable an amount of money, will seek, I foresee it, a guilty party. Disarmed in the case of Mrs. Frasne, they will turn upon my son. Whether they admit extenuating circumstances for him or not, it’s disgrace.” “Oh, father!” exclaimed Margaret involuntarily. “The danger is very great. Do you take it all in? Now, I have thought perhaps of a way to avert this danger.” The girl, whom her father had not instructed as to his plans before the family gathering, took heart again. “Cost what it may, father, it must be done.” “Here it is. In cases where abuse of confidence is involved, I have always found that restitution brings acquittal. A jury is especially sensitive to the loss of money. Suppress this loss and it’s scarcely necessary to indicate a guilty party. No prejudice, no sanction: no conviction, no sentence. It’s an association of ideas that’s habitual with a jury.” His son-in-law summed things up: “You want to restore to Mr. Frasne the money that his wife took away from him?” “That’s it.” “One hundred thousand francs!” cried Leo. “It’s quite a figure.” And Charles Marcellaz protested at once: “But it’s as much as to admit that Maurice did wrong. He pays the money back, therefore he was guilty of taking it.” “No, not that. The man who goes bail for a debtor isn’t that debtor. Through his lawyer Maurice will explain to the jurors that, although he isn’t willing to accuse anybody, he intends to be beyond suspicion himself. If Mr. Frasne is reimbursed, there is no more theft. To leave Mr. Frasne uncovered is, I suspect, to free my son.” “Good, Francis,” approved Uncle Stephen, shaking his head like a great bald bird. This mark of esteem decided the widow upon a friendly demonstration. “I don’t understand all these tricks very well,” she said, “but good repute is worth more than golden girdles, and my heart is with you, Francis.”