Jules Verne (26 page)

WHEN THE MAGISTRATE had again taken his place, like a man who considered
he was perfectly master of himself, he leaned back in his chair, and
with his head raised and his eyes looking straight in front, as though
not even noticing the accused, remarked, in a tone of the most perfect
indifference:

"Go on."

Joam Dacosta reflected for a minute as if hesitating to resume the order
of his thoughts, and then answered as follows:

"Up to the present, sir, I have only given you moral presumptions of my
innocence grounded on the dignity, propriety, and honesty of the whole
of my life. I should have thought that such proofs were those most
worthy of being brought forward in matters of justice."

Judge Jarriquez could not restrain a movement of his shoulders, showing
that such was not his opinion.

"Since they are not enough, I proceed with the material proofs which I
shall perhaps be able to produce," continued Dacosta; "I say perhaps,
for I do not yet know what credit to attach to them. And, sir, I have
never spoken of these things to my wife or children, not wishing to
raise a hope which might be destroyed."

"To the point," answered Jarriquez.

"I have every reason to believe, sir, that my arrest on the eve of the
arrival of the raft at Manaos is due to information given to the chief
of the police!"

"You are not mistaken, Joam Dacosta, but I ought to tell you that the
information is anonymous."

"It matters little, for I know that it could only come from a scoundrel
called Torres."

"And what right have you to speak in such a way of this—informer?"

"A scoundrel! Yes, sir!" replied Joam quickly. "This man, whom I
received with hospitality, only came to me to propose that I should
purchase his silence to offer me an odious bargain that I shall
never regret having refused, whatever may be the consequences of his
denunciation!"

"Always this method!" thought Judge Jarriquez; "accusing others to 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 sell you the document—if the
document exists."

"If it does not exist," answered Joam Dacosta, in a penetrating voice,
"in trusting to the justice of men, I must put my trust only in God!"

At these words Judge Jarriquez rose, and, in not quite such an
indifferent tone, said, "Joam Dacosta, in examining you here, in
allowing you to relate the particulars of your past life and to protest
your innocence, I have gone further than my instructions allow me. An
information has already been laid in this affair, and you have appeared
before the jury at Villa Rica, whose verdict was given unanimously, and
without even the addition of extenuating circumstances. You have been
found guilty of the instigation of, and complicity in, the murder of the
soldiers and the robbery of the diamonds at Tijuco, the capital sentence
was pronounced on you, and it was only by flight that you escaped
execution. But that you came here to deliver yourself over, or not, to
the hands of justice twenty-three years afterward, you would never have
been retaken. For the last time, you admit that you are Joam Dacosta,
the condemned man of the diamond arrayal?"

"I am Joam Dacosta."

"You are ready to sign this declaration?"

"I am ready."

And with a hand without a tremble Joam Dacosta put his name to the foot
of the declaration and the report which Judge Jarriquez had made his
clerk draw up.

"The report, addressed to the minister of justice, is to be sent off
to Rio Janeiro," said the magistrate. "Many days will elapse before we
receive orders to carry out your sentence. If then, as you say, Torres
possesses the proof of your innocence, do all you can yourself—do all
you can through your friends—do everything, so that that proof can be
produced in time. Once the order arrives no delay will be possible, and
justice must take its course."

Joam Dacosta bowed slightly.

"Shall I be allowed in the meantime to see my wife and children?" he
asked.

"After to-day, if you wish," answered Judge Jarriquez; "you are no
longer in close confinement, and they can be brought to you as soon as
they apply."

The magistrate then rang the bell. The guards entered the room, and took
away Joam Dacosta.

Judge Jarriquez watched him as he went out, and shook his head and
muttered:

"Well, well! This is a much stranger affair than I ever thought it would
be!"

WHILE JOAM DACOSTA was undergoing this examination, Yaquita, from an
inquiry made by Manoel, ascertained that she and her children would be
permitted to see the prisoner that very day about four o'clock in the
afternoon.

Yaquita had not left her room since the evening before. Minha and Lina
kept near her, waiting for the time when she would be admitted to see
her husband.

Yaquita Garral or Yaquita Dacosta, he would still find her the devoted
wife and brave companion he had ever known her to be.

About eleven o'clock in the morning Benito joined Manoel and Fragoso,
who were talking in the bow of the jangada.

"Manoel," said he, "I have a favor to ask you."

"What is it?"

"And you too, Fragoso."

"I am at your service, Mr. Benito," answered the barber.

"What is the matter?" asked Manoel, looking at his friend, whose
expression was that of a man who had come to some unalterable
resolution.

"You never doubt my father's innocence? Is that so?" said Benito.

"Ah!" exclaimed Fragoso. "Rather I think it was I who committed the
crime."

"Well, we must now commence on the project I thought of yesterday."

"To find out Torres?" asked Manoel.

"Yes, and know from him how he found out my father's retreat. There
is something inexplicable about it. Did he know it before? I cannot
understand it, for my father never left Iquitos for more than twenty
years, and this scoundrel is hardly thirty! But the day will not close
before I know it; or, woe to Torres!"

Benito's resolution admitted of no discussion; and besides, neither
Manoel nor Fragoso had the slightest thought of dissuading him.

"I will ask, then," continued Benito, "for both of you to accompany me.
We shall start in a minute or two. It will not do to wait till Torres
has left Manaos. He has no longer got his silence to sell, and the idea
might occur to him. Let us be off!"

And so all three of them landed on the bank of the Rio Negro and started
for the town.

Manaos was not so considerable that it could not be searched in a
few hours. They had made up their minds to go from house to house, if
necessary, to look for Torres, but their better plan seemed to be to
apply in the first instance to the keepers of the taverns and lojas
where the adventurer was most likely to put up. There could hardly be a
doubt that the ex-captain of the woods would not have given his name;
he might have personal reasons for avoiding all communication with
the police. Nevertheless, unless he had left Manaos, it was almost
impossible for him to escape the young fellows' search. In any case,
there would be no use in applying to the police, for it was very
probable—in fact, we know that it actually was so—that the information
given to them had been anonymous.

For an hour Benito, Manoel, and Fragoso walked along the principal
streets of the town, inquiring of the tradesmen in their shops, the
tavern-keepers in their cabarets, and even the bystanders, without any
one being able to recognize the individual whose description they so
accurately gave.

Had Torres left Manaos? Would they have to give up all hope of coming
across him?

In vain Manoel tried to calm Benito, whose head seemed on fire. Cost
what it might, he must get at Torres!

Chance at last favored them, and it was Fragoso who put them on the
right track.

In a tavern in Holy Ghost Street, from the description which the people
received of the adventurer, they replied that the individual in question
had put up at the loja the evening before.

"Did he sleep here?" asked Fragoso.

"Yes," answered the tavern-keeper.

"Is he here now?"

"No. He has gone out."

"But has he settled his bill, as a man would who has gone for good?"

"By no means; he left his room about an hour ago, and he will doubtless
come back to supper."

"Do you know what road he took when he went out?"

"We saw him turning toward the Amazon, going through the lower town, and
you will probably meet him on that side."

Fragoso did not want any more. A few seconds afterward he rejoined the
young fellows, and said:

"I am on the track."

"He is there!" exclaimed Benito.

"No; he has just gone out, and they have seen him walking across to the
bank of the Amazon."

"Come on!" replied Benito.

They had to go back toward the river, and the shortest way was for them
to take the left bank of the Rio Negro, down to its mouth.

Benito and his companions soon left the last houses of the town behind,
and followed the bank, making a slight detour so as not to be observed
from the jangada.

The plain was at this time deserted. Far away the view extended across
the flat, where cultivated fields had replaced the former forests.

Benito did not speak; he could not utter a word. Manoel and Fragoso
respected his silence. And so the three of them went along and looked
about on all sides as they traversed the space between the bank of
the Rio Negro and that of the Amazon. Three-quarters of an hour after
leaving Manaos, and still they had seen nothing!

Once or twice Indians working in the fields were met with. Manoel
questioned them, and one of them at length told him that a man, such as
he described, had just passed in the direction of the angle formed by
the two rivers at their confluence.