IV
The mayor was mistaken. The drawing-room door opened suddenly, and a manof slender form, who was struggling furiously, and with an energy whichwould not have been suspected, appeared, held on one side by a gendarme,and on the other by a domestic.
The struggle had already lasted long, and his clothes were in greatdisorder. His new coat was torn, his cravat floated in strips, thebutton of his collar had been wrenched off, and his open shirt left hisbreast bare. In the vestibule and court were heard the frantic cries ofthe servants and the curious crowd--of whom there were more than ahundred, whom the news of the crime had collected about the gate, andwho burned to hear, and above all to see.
This enraged crowd cried:
"It is he! Death to the assassin! It is Guespin! See him!"
And the wretch, inspired by an immense fright, continued to struggle.
"Help!" shouted he hoarsely. "Leave me alone. I am innocent!"
He had posted himself against the drawing-room door, and they could notforce him forward.
"Push him," ordered the mayor, "push him."
It was easier to command than to execute. Terror lent to Guespinenormous force. But it occurred to the doctor to open the second wing ofthe door; the support failed the wretch, and he fell, or rather rolledat the foot of the table at which the judge of instruction was seated.He was straightway on his feet again, and his eyes sought a chance toescape. Seeing none--for the windows and doors were crowded with thelookers-on--he fell into a chair. The fellow appeared the image ofterror, wrought up to paroxysm. On his livid face, black and blue, werevisible the marks of the blows he had received in the struggle; hiswhite lips trembled, and he moved his jaws as if he sought a littlesaliva for his burning tongue; his staring eyes were bloodshot, andexpressed the wildest distress; his body was bent with convulsivespasms. So terrible was this spectacle, that the mayor thought it mightbe an example of great moral force. He turned toward the crowd, andpointing to Guespin, said in a tragic tone:
"See what crime is!"
The others exchanged surprised looks.
"If he is guilty," muttered M. Plantat, "why on earth has he returned?"
It was with difficulty that the crowd was kept back; the brigadier wasforced to call in the aid of his men. Then he returned and placedhimself beside Guespin, thinking it not prudent to leave him alone withunarmed men.
But the man was little to be feared. The reaction came; his over-excitedenergy became exhausted, his strained muscles flaccid, and hisprostration resembled the agony of brain fever. Meanwhile the brigadierrecounted what had happened.
"Some of the servants of the chateau and the neighboring houses werechatting near the gate, about the crime, and the disappearance ofGuespin last night, when all of a sudden, someone perceived him at adistance, staggering, and singing boisterously, as if he were drunk."
"Was he really drunk?" asked M. Domini.
"Very," returned the brigadier.
"Then we owe it to the wine that we have caught him, and thus all willbe explained."
"On perceiving this wretch," pursued the gendarme, who seemed not tohave the shadow of a doubt of Guespin's guilt, "Francois, the count'svalet de chambre, and Baptiste, the mayor's servant, who were there,hastened to meet him, and seized him. He was so tipsy that he thoughtthey were fooling with him. When he saw my men, he was undeceived. Justthen one of the women cried out, 'Brigand, it was you who have thisnight assassinated the count and the countess!' He immediately becamepaler than death, and remained motionless and dumb. Then he began tostruggle so violently that he nearly escaped. Ah! he's strong, therogue, although he does not look like it."
"And he said nothing?" said Plantat.
"Not a word; his teeth were so tightly shut with rage that I'm sure hecouldn't say 'bread.' But we've got him. I've searched him, and this iswhat I have found in his pockets: a handkerchief, a pruning-knife, twosmall keys, a scrap of paper covered with figures, and an address of theestablishment of 'Vulcan's Forges.' But that's not all--"
The brigadier took a step, and eyed his auditors mysteriously; he waspreparing his effect.
"That's not all. While they were bringing him along in the court-yard,he tried to get rid of his wallet. Happily I had my eyes open, and sawthe dodge. I picked up the wallet, which he had thrown among the flowersnear the door; here it is. In it are a one-hundred-franc note, threenapoleons, and seven francs in change. Yesterday the rascal hadn't asou--"
"How do you know that?" asked M. Domini.
"Dame! Monsieur Judge, he borrowed of the valet Francois (who told me ofit) twenty-five francs, pretending that it was to pay his share of thewedding expenses."
"Tell Francois to come here," said the judge of instruction. "Now, sir,"he continued, when the valet presented himself, "do you know whetherGuespin had any money yesterday?"
"He had so little, Monsieur," answered Francois promptly, "that he askedme to lend him twenty-five francs during the day, saying that otherwisehe could not go to the wedding, not having enough even to pay hisrailway fare."
"But he might have some savings--a hundred-franc note, for instance,which he didn't like to change."
Francois shook his head with an incredulous smile.
"Guespin isn't the man to have savings," said he; "Women and cardsexhaust all his wages. No longer ago than last week, the keeper of theCafe du Commerce came here and made a row on account of what he owedhim, and threatened to go to the count about it."
Perceiving the effect of what he said, the valet, as if to correcthimself, hastened to add:
"I have no ill-will toward Guespin; before to-day I've always consideredhim a clever fellow, though he was too much of a practical joker; hewas, perhaps, a little proud, considering his bringing up--"
"You may go," said the judge, cutting the disquisition of M. Francoisshort; the valet retired.
During this colloquy, Guespin had little by little come to himself. Thejudge of instruction, Plantat, and the mayor narrowly watched the playof his countenance, which he had not the coolness to compose, while thedoctor held his pulse and counted its beating.
"Remorse, and fear of punishment," muttered the mayor.
"Innocence, and the impossibility of proving it," responded Plantat in alow tone.
M. Domini heard both these exclamations, but did not appear to takenotice of them. His opinion was not formed, and he did not wish thatanyone should be able to foretell, by any word of his, what it would be.
"Are you better, my friend?" asked Dr. Gendron, of Guespin.
The poor fellow made an affirmative sign. Then, having looked aroundwith the anxious glance of a man who calculates a precipice over whichhe has fallen, he passed his hand across his eyes and stammered:
"Something to drink!"
A glass of water was brought, and he drank it at a draught, with anexpression of intense satisfaction. Then he got upon his feet.
"Are you now in a fit state to answer me?" asked the judge.
Guespin staggered a little, then drew himself up. He continued erectbefore the judge, supporting himself against a table. The nervoustrembling of his hands diminished, the blood returned to his cheeks, andas he listened, he arranged the disorder of his clothes.
"You know the events of this night, don't you?" commenced the judge;"the Count and Countess de Tremorel have been murdered. You went awayyesterday with all the servants of the chateau; you left them at theLyons station about nine o'clock; you have just returned, alone. Wherehave you passed the night?"
Guespin hung his head and remained silent.
"That is not all," continued M. Domini; "yesterday you had no money, thefact is well known; one of your fellow-servants has just proved it.To-day, one hundred and sixty-seven francs are found in your wallet.Where did you get this money?"
The unhappy creature's lip moved as if he wished to answer; a suddenthought seemed to check him, for he did not speak.
"More yet. What is this card of a hardware establishment that has beenfound in your poc
ket?"
Guespin made a sign of desperation, and stammered:
"I am innocent."
"I have not as yet accused you," said the judge of instruction, quickly."You knew, perhaps, that the count received a considerable sumyesterday?"
A bitter smile parted Guespin's lips as he answered:
"I know well enough that everything is against me."
There was a profound silence. The doctor, the mayor, and Plantat, seizedwith a keen curiosity, dared not move. Perhaps nothing in the world ismore thrilling than one of these merciless duels between justice and aman suspected of a crime. The questions may seem insignificant, theanswers irrelevant; both questions and answers envelop terrible, hiddenmeanings. The smallest gesture, the most rapid movement of physiognomymay acquire deep significance, a fugitive light in the eye betray anadvantage gained; an imperceptible change in the voice may beconfession.
The coolness of M. Domini was disheartening.
"Let us see," said he after a pause: "where did you pass the night? Howdid you get this money? And what does this address mean?"
"Eh!" cried Guespin, with the rage of powerlessness, "I should tell youwhat you would not believe."
The judge was about to ask another question, but Guespin cut him short.
"No; you wouldn't believe me," he repeated, his eyes glistening withanger. "Do men like you believe men like me? I have a past, you know, ofantecedents, as you would say. The past! They throw that in my face, asif, the future depended on the past. Well, yes; it's true, I'm adebauchee, a gambler, a drunkard, an idler, but what of it? It's true Ihave been before the police court, and condemned for nightpoaching--what does that prove? I have wasted my life, but whom have Iwronged if not myself? My past! Have I not sufficiently expiated it?"
Guespin was self-possessed, and finding in himself sensations whichawoke a sort of eloquence, he expressed himself with a savage energywell calculated to strike his hearers.
"I have not always served others," he continued; "my father was in easycircumstances--almost rich. He had large gardens, near Saumur, and hepassed for one of the best gardeners of that region. I was educated, andwhen sixteen years old, began to study law. Four years later theythought me a talented youth. Unhappily for me, my father died. He leftme a landed property worth a hundred thousand francs: I sold it out forsixty thousand and went to Paris. I was a fool then. I had the fever ofpleasure-seeking, a thirst for all sorts of pastimes, perfect health,plenty of money. I found Paris a narrow limit for my vices; it seemed tome that the objects of my desires were wanting. I thought my sixtythousand francs would last forever."
Guespin paused; a thousand memories of those times rushed into histhoughts and he muttered:
"Those were good times."
"My sixty thousand francs," he resumed, "held out eight years. Then Ihadn't a sou, yet I longed to continue my way of living. You understand,don't you? About this time, the police, one night, arrested me. I was'detained' six months. You will find the records of the affair at theprefecture. Do you know what it will tell you? It will tell you that onleaving prison I fell into that shameful and abominable misery whichexists in Paris. It will tell you that I have lived among the worst andlowest outcasts of Paris--and it is the truth."
The worthy mayor was filled with consternation.
"Good Heaven!" thought he, "what an audacious and cynical rascal! and tothink that one is liable at any time to admit such servants into hishouse!"
The judge held his tongue. He knew that Guespin was in such a statethat, under the irresistible impulse of passion, he might betray hisinnermost thoughts.
"But there is one thing," continued the suspected man, "that the recordwill not tell you; that, disgusted with this abject life, I was temptedto suicide. It will not tell you anything of my desperate attempts, myrepentance, my relapses. At last, I was able in part to reform. I gotwork; and after being in four situations, engaged myself here. I foundmyself well off. I always spent my month's wages in advance, it'strue--but what would you have? And ask if anyone has ever had tocomplain of me."
It is well known that among the most intelligent criminals, those whohave had a certain degree of education, and enjoyed some good fortune,are the most redoubtable. According to this, Guespin was decidedlydangerous. So thought those who heard him. Meanwhile, exhausted by hisexcitement, he paused and wiped his face, covered with perspiration.
M. Domini had not lost sight of his plan of attack.
"All that is very well," said he, "we will return to your confession atthe proper time and place. But just now the question is, how you spentyour night, and where you got this money."
This persistency seemed to exasperate Guespin.
"Eh!" cried he, "how do you want me to answer? The truth? You wouldn'tcredit it. As well keep silent. It is a fatality."
"I warn you for your own sake," resumed the judge, "that if you persistin refusing to answer, the charges which weigh upon you are such that Iwill have you arrested as suspected of this murder."
This menace seemed to have a remarkable effect on Guespin. Great tearsfilled his eyes, up to that time dry and flashing, and silently rolleddown his cheeks. His energy was exhausted; he fell on his knees, crying:
"Mercy! I beg you, Monsieur, not to arrest me; I swear I am innocent, Iswear it!"
"Speak, then."
"You wish it," said Guespin, rising. Then he suddenly changed his tone."No, I will not speak, I cannot! One man alone could save me; it is thecount; and he is dead. I am innocent; yet if the guilty are not found, Iam lost. Everything is against me. I know it too well. Now, do with meas you please; I will not say another word."
Guespin's determination, confirmed by his look, did not surprise thejudge.
"You will reflect," said he, quietly, "only, when you have reflected, Ishall not have the same confidence in what you say as I should have now.Possibly," and the judge spoke slowly and with emphasis, "you have onlyhad an indirect part in this crime; if so--"
"Neither indirect nor direct," interrupted Guespin; and he added,violently, "what misery! To be innocent, and not able to defend myself."
"Since it is so," resumed M. Domini, "you should not object to be placedbefore Mme. de Tremorel's body?"
The accused did not seem affected by this menace. He was conducted intothe hall whither they had fetched the countess. There, he examined thebody with a cold and calm eye. He said, simply:
"She is happier than I; she is dead, she suffers no longer; and I, whoam not guilty, am accused of her death."
M. Domini made one more effort.
"Come, Guespin; if in any way you know of this crime, I conjure you,tell me. If you know the murderers, name them. Try to merit someindulgence for your frankness and repentance."
Guespin made a gesture as if resigned to persecution. "By all that ismost sacred," he answered, "I am innocent. Yet I see clearly that if themurderer is not found, I am lost."
Little by little M. Domini's conviction was formed and confirmed. Aninquest of this sort is not so difficult as may be imagined. Thedifficulty is to seize at the beginning; in the entangled skein, themain thread, which must lead to the truth through all the mazes, theruses, silence, falsehoods of the guilty. M. Domini was certain that heheld this precious thread. Having one of the assassins, he knew wellthat he would secure the others. Our prisons, where good soup is eaten,and good beds are provided, have tongues, as well as the dungeons of themedieval ages.
The judge ordered the brigadier to arrest Guespin, and told him not tolose sight of him. He then sent for old Bertaud. This worthy personagewas not one of the people who worry themselves. He had had so manyaffairs with the men of law, that one inquisition the more disturbed himlittle.
"This man has a bad reputation in my commune," whispered the mayor to M.Domini.
Bertaud heard it, however, and smiled.
Questioned by the judge of instruction, he recounted very clearly andexactly what had happened in the morning, his resistance, and his son'sdetermination. He expla
ined the reason for the falsehood they told; andhere again the chapter of antecedents came up.
"Look here; I'm better than my reputation, after all," said he. "Thereare many folks who can't say as much. You see many things when you goabout at night--enough."
He was urged to explain his allusions, but in vain.
When he was asked where and how he had passed the night, he answered,that having left the cabaret at ten o'clock, he went to put down sometraps in Mauprevoir wood; and had gone home and to bed about oneo'clock.
"By the bye," added he, "there ought to be some game in those traps bythis time."
"Can you bring a witness to prove that you went home at one?" asked themayor, who bethought him of the count's clock, stopped at twenty minutespast three.
"Don't know, I'm sure," carelessly responded the poacher, "it's quitelikely that my son didn't wake up when I went to bed."
He added, seeing the judge reflect:
"I suspect that you are going to imprison me until the murderers arediscovered. If it was winter, I wouldn't complain much; a fellow is welloff in prison then, for it's warm there. But just at the time forhunting, it's provoking. It will be a good lesson for that Philippe;it'll teach him what it costs to render a service to gentlefolks."
"Enough!" interrupted M. Domini, sternly. "Do you know Guespin?"
This name suddenly subdued the careless insolence of the marauder; hislittle gray eyes experienced a singular restlessness.
"Certainly," he answered in an embarrassed tone, "we have often made aparty at cards, you understand, while sipping our 'gloria.'"*
[* Coffee and brandy.]
The man's inquietude struck the four who heard him. Plantat, especially,betrayed profound surprise. The old vagabond was too shrewd not toperceive the effect which he produced.
"Faith, so much the worse!" cried he: "I'll tell you everything. Everyman for himself, isn't it? If Guespin has done the deed, it will notblacken him any more, nor make him any the worse off. I know him, simplybecause he used to sell me the grapes and strawberries from the count'sconservatories; I suppose he stole them; we divided the money, and Ileft."
Plantat could not refrain from an exclamation of satisfaction, as if tosay, "Good luck! I knew it well enough!"
When he said he would be sent to prison, Bertaud was not wrong. Thejudge ordered his arrest.
It was now Philippe's turn.
The poor fellow was in a pitiable state; he was crying bitterly.
"To accuse me of such a crime, me!" he kept repeating.
On being questioned he told the pure and simple truth, excusing himself,however, for having dared to penetrate into the park. When he was askedat what hour his father reached home, he said he knew nothing about it;he had gone to bed about nine, and had not awoke until morning. He knewGuespin, from having seen him at his father's several times. He knewthat the old man had some transactions with the gardener, but he wasignorant as to what they were. He had never spoken four times toGuespin. The judge ordered Philippe to be set at liberty, not that hewas wholly convinced of his innocence, but because if the crime had beencommitted by several persons, it was well to have one of them free; hecould be watched, and he would betray the whereabouts of the rest.
Meanwhile the count's body was nowhere to be found. The park had beenrigidly searched, but in vain. The mayor suggested that he had beenthrown into the river, which was also M. Domini's opinion; and somefishermen were sent to drag the Seine, commencing their search a littleabove the place where the countess was found.
It was then nearly three o'clock. M. Plantat remarked that probably noone had eaten anything during the day. Would it not be wise to takesomething, he suggested, if the investigations were to be pursued tillnight? This appeal to the trivial necessities of our frail humanityhighly displeased the worthy mayor; but the rest readily assented to thesuggestion, and M. Courtois, though not in the least hungry, followedthe general example. Around the table which was yet wet with the winespilt by the assassins, the judge, M. Plantat, the mayor, and the doctorsat down, and partook of an improvised collation.