XXI
The old justice of the peace ceased reading his voluminous record. Hishearers, the detective and the doctor remained silent under theinfluence of this distressing narrative. M. Plantat had read itimpressively, throwing himself into the recital as if he had beenpersonally an actor in the scenes described.
M. Lecoq was the first to recover himself.
"A strange man, Sauvresy," said he.
It was Sauvresy's extraordinary idea of vengeance which struck him inthe story. He admired his "good playing" in a drama in which he knew hewas going to yield up his life.
"I don't know many people," pursued the detective, "capable of sofearful a firmness. To let himself be poisoned so slowly and gently byhis wife! Brrr! It makes a man shiver all over!"
"He knew how to avenge himself," muttered the doctor.
"Yes," answered M. Plantat, "yes, Doctor; he knew how to avenge himself,and more terribly than he supposed, or than you can imagine."
The detective rose from his seat. He had remained motionless, glued tohis chair for more than three hours, and his legs were benumbed.
"For my part," said he, "I can very well conceive what an infernalexistence the murderers began to suffer the day after their victim'sdeath. You have depicted them, Monsieur Plantat, with the hand of amaster. I know them as well after your description as if I had studiedthem face to face for ten years."
He spoke deliberately, and watched for the effect of what he said in M.Plantat's countenance.
"Where on earth did this old fellow get all these details?" he askedhimself. "Did he write this narrative, and if not, who did? How was it,if he had all this information, that he has said nothing?"
M. Plantat appeared to be unconscious of the detective's searching look.
"I know that Sauvresy's body was not cold," said he, "before hismurderers began to threaten each other with death."
"Unhappily for them," observed Dr. Gendron, "Sauvresy had foreseen theprobability of his widow's using up the rest of the vial of poison."
"Ah, he was shrewd," said M. Lecoq, in a tone of conviction, "veryshrewd."
"Bertha could not pardon Hector," continued M. Plantat, "for refusing totake the revolver and blow his brains out; Sauvresy, you see, hadforeseen that. Bertha thought that if her lover were dead, her husbandwould have forgotten all; and it is impossible to tell whether she wasmistaken or not."
"And nobody knew anything of this horrible struggle that was going on inthe house?"
"No one ever suspected anything."
"It's marvellous!"
"Say, Monsieur Lecoq, that is scarcely credible. Never was dissimulationso crafty, and above all, so wonderfully sustained. If you shouldquestion the first person you met in Orcival, he would tell you, as ourworthy Courtois this morning told Monsieur Domini, that the count andcountess were a model pair and adored each other. Why I, who knew--orsuspected, I should say--what had passed, was deceived myself."
Promptly as M. Plantat had corrected himself, his slip of the tongue didnot escape M. Lecoq.
"Was it really a slip, or not?" he asked himself.
"These wretches have been terribly punished," pursued M. Plantat, "andit is impossible to pity them; all would have gone rightly if Sauvresy,intoxicated by his hatred, had not committed a blunder which was almosta crime."
"A crime!" exclaimed the doctor.
M. Lecoq smiled and muttered in a low tone:
"Laurence."
But low as he had spoken, M. Plantat heard him.
"Yes, Monsieur Lecoq," said he severely. "Yes, Laurence. Sauvresy did adetestable thing when he thought of making this poor girl theaccomplice, or I should say, the instrument of his wrath. He piteouslythrew her between these two wretches, without asking himself whether shewould be broken. It was by using Laurence's name that he persuadedBertha not to kill herself. Yet he knew of Tremorel's passion for her,he knew her love for him, and he knew that his friend was capable ofanything. He, who had so well foreseen all that could serve hisvengeance, did not deign to foresee that Laurence might be dishonored;and yet he left her disarmed before this most cowardly and infamous ofmen!"
The detective reflected.
"There is one thing," said he, "that I can't explain. Why was it thatthese two, who execrated each other, and whom the implacable will oftheir victim chained together despite themselves, did not separate ofone accord the day after their marriage, when they had fulfilled thecondition which had established their crime?"
The old justice of the peace shook his head.
"I see," he answered, "that I have not yet made you understand Bertha'sresolute character. Hector would have been delighted with a separation;his wife could not consent to it. Ah, Sauvresy knew her well! She sawher life ruined, a horrible remorse lacerated her; she must have avictim upon whom to expiate her errors and crimes; this victim wasHector. Ravenous for her prey, she would not let him go for anything inthe world."
"I' faith," observed Dr. Gendron, "your Tremorel was a chicken-heartedwretch. What had he to fear when Sauvresy's manuscript was oncedestroyed?"
"Who told you it had been destroyed?" interrupted M. Plantat.
M. Lecoq at this stopped promenading up and down the room, and sat downopposite M. Plantat.
"The whole case lies there," said he. "Whether these proofs have or havenot been destroyed."
M. Plantat did not choose to answer directly.
"Do you know," asked he, "to whom Sauvresy confided them for keeping?"
"Ah," cried the detective, as if a sudden idea had enlightened him, "itwas you."
He added to himself, "Now, my good man, I begin to see where all yourinformation comes from."
"Yes, it was I," resumed M. Plantat. "On the day of the marriage ofMadame Sauvresy and Count Hector, in conformity with the last wishes ofmy dying friend, I went to Valfeuillu and asked to see Monsieur andMadame de Tremorel. Although they were full of company, they received meat once in the little room on the ground-floor where Sauvresy wasmurdered. They were both very pale and terribly troubled. They evidentlyguessed the purpose of my visit, for they lost no time in admitting meto an interview. After saluting them I addressed myself to Bertha, beingenjoined to do so by the written instructions I had received; this wasanother instance of Sauvresy's foresight. 'Madame,' said I, 'I wascharged by your late husband to hand to you, on the day of your secondmarriage, this package, which he confided to my care.' She took thepackage, in which the bottle and the manuscript were enclosed, with asmiling, even joyous air, thanked me warmly, and went out. The count'sexpression instantly changed; he appeared very restless and agitated; heseemed to be on coals. I saw well enough that he burned to rush afterhis wife, but dared not; I was going to retire; but he stopped me.'Pardon me,' said he, abruptly, 'you will permit me, will you not? Iwill return immediately,' with which he ran out. When I saw him and hiswife a few minutes afterward, they were both very red; their eyes had astrange expression and their voices trembled, as they accompanied me tothe door. They had certainly been having a violent altercation."
"The rest may be conjectured," interrupted M. Lecoq. "She had gone tosecrete the manuscript in some safe place; and when her new husbandasked her to give it up to him, she replied, 'Look for it.'"
"Sauvresy had enjoined on me to give it only into her hands."
"Oh, he knew how to work his revenge. He had it given to his wife sothat she might hold a terrible arm against Tremorel, all ready to crushhim. If he revolted, she always had this instrument of torture at hand.Ah, the man was a miserable wretch, and she must have made him sufferterribly."
"Yes," said Dr. Gendron, "up to the very day he killed her."
The detective had resumed his promenade up and down the library.
"The question as to the poison," said he, "remains. It is a simple oneto resolve, because we've got the man who sold it to her in thatcloset."
"Besides," returned the doctor, "I can tell something about the poison.This rascal of a Robelot stole it from my laboratory, and I
know onlytoo well what it is, even if the symptoms, so well described by ourfriend Plantat, had not indicated its name to me. I was at work uponaconite when Sauvresy died; and he was poisoned with aconitine."
"Ah, with aconitine," said M. Lecoq, surprised. "It's the first timethat I ever met with that poison. Is it a new thing?"
"Not exactly. Medea is said to have extracted her deadliest poisons fromaconite, and it was employed in Rome and Greece in criminal executions."
"And I did not know of it! But I have very little time to study.Besides, this poison of Medea's was perhaps lost, as was that of theBorgias; so many of these things are!"
"No, it was not lost, be assured. But we only know of it nowadays byMathiole's experiments on felons sentenced to death, in the sixteenthcentury; by Hers, who isolated the active principle, the alkaloid, in1833 and lastly by certain experiments made by Bouchardat, whopretends--"
Unfortunately, when Dr. Gendron was set agoing on poisons, it wasdifficult to stop him; but M. Lecoq, on the other hand, never lost sightof the end he had in view.
"Pardon me for interrupting you, Doctor," said he. "But would traces ofaconitine be found in a body which had been two years buried? ForMonsieur Domini is going to order the exhumation of Sauvresy."
"The tests of aconitine are not sufficiently well known to permit of theisolation of it in a body. Bouchardat tried ioduret of potassium, buthis experiment was not successful."
"The deuce!" said M. Lecoq. "That's annoying."
The doctor smiled benignly.
"Reassure yourself," said he. "No such process was in existence--so Iinvented one."
"Ah," cried Plantat. "Your sensitive paper!"
"Precisely."
"And could you find aconitine in Sauvresy's body?"
"Undoubtedly."
M. Lecoq was radiant, as if he were now certain of fulfilling what hadseemed to him a very difficult task.
"Very well," said he. "Our inquest seems to be complete. The history ofthe victims imparted to us by Monsieur Plantat gives us the key to allthe events which have followed the unhappy Sauvresy's death. Thus, thehatred of this pair, who were in appearance so united, is explained; andit is also clear why Hector has ruined a charming young girl with asplendid dowry, instead of making her his wife. There is nothingsurprising in Tremorel's casting aside his name and personality toreappear under another guise; he killed his wife because he wasconstrained to do so by the logic of events. He could not fly while shewas alive, and yet he could not continue to live at Valfeuillu. Andabove all, the paper for which he searched with such desperation, whenevery moment was an affair of life and death to him, was none other thanSauvresy's manuscript, his condemnation and the proof of his firstcrime."
M. Lecoq talked eagerly, as if he had a personal animosity against theCount de Tremorel; such was his nature; and he always avowed laughinglythat he could not help having a grudge against the criminals whom hepursued. There was an account to settle between him and them; hence theardor of his pursuit. Perhaps it was a simple matter of instinct withhim, like that which impels the hunting hound on the track of his game.
"It is clear enough now," he went on, "that it was Mademoiselle Courtoiswho put an end to his hesitation and eternal delay. His passion for her,irritated by obstacles, goaded him to delirium. On learning hercondition, he lost his head and forgot all prudence and reason. He waswearied, too, of a punishment which began anew each morning; he sawhimself lost, and his wife sacrificing herself for the malignantpleasure of sacrificing him. Terrified, he took the resolution to committhis murder."
Many of the circumstances which had established M. Lecoq's convictionhad escaped Dr. Gendron.
"What!" cried he, stupefied. "Do you believe in Mademoiselle Laurence'scomplicity?"
The detective earnestly protested by a gesture.
"No, Doctor, certainly not; heaven forbid that I should have such anidea. Mademoiselle Courtois was and is still ignorant of this crime. Butshe knew that Tremorel would abandon his wife for her. This flight hadbeen discussed, planned, and agreed upon between them; they made anappointment to meet at a certain place, on a certain day."
"But this letter," said the doctor.
M. Plantat could scarcely conceal his emotion when Laurence was beingtalked about.
"This letter," cried he, "which has plunged her family into the deepestgrief, and which will perhaps kill poor Courtois, is only one more sceneof the infamous drama which the count has planned."
"Oh," said the doctor, "is it possible?"
"I am firmly of Monsieur Plantat's opinion," said the detective. "Lastevening we had the same suspicion at the same moment at the mayor's. Iread and re-read her letter, and could have sworn that it did notemanate from herself. The count gave her a rough draft from which shecopied it. We mustn't deceive ourselves; this letter was meditated,pondered on, and composed at leisure. Those were not the expressions ofan unhappy young girl of twenty who was going to kill herself to escapedishonor."
"Perhaps you are right," remarked the doctor visibly moved. "But how canyou imagine that Tremorel succeeded in persuading her to do thiswretched act?"
"How? See here, Doctor, I am not much experienced in such things, havingseldom had occasion to study the characters of well-brought-up younggirls; yet it seems to me very simple. Mademoiselle Courtois saw thetime coming when her disgrace would be public, and so prepared for it,and was even ready to die if necessary."
M. Plantat shuddered; a conversation which he had had with Laurenceoccurred to him. She had asked him, he remembered, about certainpoisonous plants which he was cultivating, and had been anxious to knowhow the poisonous juices could be extracted from them.
"Yes," said he, "she has thought of dying."
"Well," resumed the detective, "the count took her in one of the moodswhen these sad thoughts haunted the poor girl, and was easily able tocomplete his work of ruin. She undoubtedly told him that she preferreddeath to shame, and he proved to her that, being in the condition inwhich she was, she had no right to kill herself. He said that he wasvery unhappy; and that not being free, he could not repair his fault;but he offered to sacrifice his life for her. What should she do to saveboth of them? Abandon her parents, make them believe that she hadcommitted suicide, while he, on his side, would desert his house and hiswife. Doubtless she resisted for awhile; but she finally consented toeverything; she fled, and copied and posted the infamous letter dictatedby her lover."
The doctor was convinced.
"Yes," he muttered, "those are doubtless the means he employed."
"But what an idiot he was," resumed M. Lecoq, "not to perceive that thestrange coincidence between his disappearance and Laurence's suicidewould be remarked! He said to himself, 'Probably people will think thatI, as well as my wife, have been murdered; and the law, having itsvictim in Guespin, will not look for any other.'"
M. Plantat made a gesture of impotent rage.
"Ah," cried he, "and we know not where the wretch has hid himself andLaurence."
The detective took him by the arm and pressed it.
"Reassure yourself," said he, coolly. "We'll find him, or my name's notLecoq; and to be honest, I must say that our task does not seem to me adifficult one."
Several timid knocks at the door interrupted the speaker. It was late,and the household was already awake and about. Mme. Petit in her anxietyand curiosity had put her ear to the key-hole at least ten times, but invain.
"What can they be up to in there?" said she to Louis. "Here they've beenshut up these twelve hours without eating or drinking. At all eventsI'll get breakfast."
It was not Mme. Petit, however, who dared to knock on the door; butLouis, the gardener, who came to tell his master of the ravages whichhad been made in his flower-pots and shrubs. At the same time he broughtin certain singular articles which he had picked up on the sward, andwhich M. Lecoq recognized at once.
"Heavens!" cried he, "I forgot myself. Here I go on quietly talking withmy face exposed, as if it was not broa
d daylight; and people might comein at any moment!" And turning to Louis, who was very much surprised tosee this dark young man whom he had certainly not admitted the nightbefore, he added:
"Give me those little toilet articles, my good fellow; they belong tome."
Then, by a turn of his hand, he readjusted his physiognomy of lastnight, while the master of the house went out to give some orders, whichM. Lecoq did so deftly, that when M. Plantat returned, he could scarcelybelieve his eyes.
They sat down to breakfast and ate their meal as silently as they haddone the dinner of the evening before, losing no time about it. Theyappreciated the value of the passing moments; M. Domini was waiting forthem at Corbeil, and was doubtless getting impatient at their delay.
Louis had just placed a sumptuous dish of fruit upon the table, when itoccurred to M. Lecoq that Robelot was still shut up in the closet.
"Probably the rascal needs something," said he.
M. Plantat wished to send his servant to him; but M. Lecoq objected.
"He's a dangerous rogue," said he. "I'll go myself."
He went out, but almost instantly his voice was heard:
"Messieurs! Messieurs, see here!"
The doctor and M. Plantat hastened into the library.
Across the threshold of the closet was stretched the body of thebone-setter. He had killed himself.