clear himself.”
But he none the less listened with extreme attention to Joam’s
recital of his relations with the adventurer up to the moment when
Torres let him know that he knew and could reveal the name of the
true author of the crime of Tijuco.
“And what is the name of the guilty man?” asked Jarriquez, shaken in
his indifference.
“I do not know,” answered Joam Dacosta. “Torres was too cautious to
let it out.”
“And the culprit is living?”
“He is dead.”
The fingers of Judge Jarriquez tattooed more quickly, and he could
not avoid exclaiming, “The man who can furnish the proof of a
prisoner’s innocence is always dead.”
“If the real culprit is dead, sir, ” replied Dacosta, “Torres at
least is living, and the proof, written throughout in the handwriting
of the author of the crime, he has assured me is in his hands! He
offered to sell it to me!”
“Eh! Joam Dacosta!” answered Judge Jarriquez, “that would not have
been dear at the cost of the whole of your fortune!”
“If Torres had only asked my fortune, I would have given it to him
and not one of my people would have demurred! Yes, you are right,
sir; a man cannot pay too dearly for the redemption of his honor! But
this scoundrel, knowing that I was at his mercy, required more than
my fortune!”
“How so?”
“My daughter’s hand was to be the cost of the bargain! I refused; he
denounced me, and that is why I am now before you!”
“And if Torres had not informed against you,” asked Judge
Jarriquez–“if Torres had not met with you on your voyage, what would
you have done on learning on your arrival of the death of Judge
Ribeiro? Would you then have delivered yourself into the hands of
justice?”
“Without the slightest hesitation,” replied Joam, in a firm voice;
“for, I repeat it, I had no other object in leaving Iquitos to come
to Manaos.”
This was said in such a tone of truthfulness that Judge Jarriquez
experienced a kind of feeling making its way to that corner of the
heart where convictions are formed, but he did not yet give in.
He could hardly help being astonished. A judge engaged merely in this
examination, he knew nothing of what is known by those who have
followed this history, and who cannot doubt but that Torres held in
his hands the material proof of Joam Dacosta’s innocence. They know
that the document existed; that it contained this evidence; and
perhaps they may be led to think that Judge Jarriquez was pitilessly
incredulous. But they should remember that Judge Jarriquez was not in
their position; that he was accustomed to the invariable
protestations of the culprits who came before him. The document which
Joam Dacosta appealed to was not produced; he did not really know if
it actually existed; and to conclude, he had before him a man whose
guilt had for him the certainty of a settled thing.
However, he wished, perhaps through curiosity, to drive Joam Dacosta
behind his last entrenchments.
“And so,” he said, “all your hope now rests on the declaration which
has been made to you by Torres.”
“Yes, sir, if my whole life does not plead for me.”
“Where do you think Torres really is?”
“I think in Manaos.”
“And you hope that he will speak–that he will consent to
good-naturedly hand over to you the document for which you have
declined to pay the price he asked?”
“I hope so, sir,” replied Joam Dacosta; “the situation now is not the
same for Torres; he has denounced me, and consequently he cannot
retain any hope of resuming his bargaining under the previous
conditions. But this document might still be worth a fortune if,
supposing I am acquitted or executed, it should ever escape him.
Hence his interest is to sell me the document, which can thus not
injure him in any way, and I think he will act according to his
interest.”
The reasoning of Joam Dacosta was unanswerable, and Judge Jarriquez
felt it to be so. He made the only possible objection.
“The interest of Torres is doubtless to selel you the document–if