IX
Some men are wealthy. They own a carriage drawn by a pair ofhigh-stepping horses, and driven by a coachman in stylish livery; andas they pass by, leaning back on comfortable cushions, they become theobject of many an envious glance. Sometimes, however, the coachman hastaken a drop too much, and upsets the carriage; perhaps the horsesrun away and a general smash ensues; or, maybe, the hitherto fortunateowner, in a moment of absent-mindedness, misses the step, and fractureshis leg on the curbstone. Such accidents occur every day; and theirlong list should make humble foot-passengers bless the lowly lot whichpreserves them from such peril.
On learning the misfortune that had befallen M. d'Escorval, Lecoq's facewore such an expression of consternation that the doorkeeper could nothelp laughing. "What is there so very extraordinary about that I've toldyou?" he asked.
"I--oh! nothing--"
The detective did not speak the truth. The fact is, he had just beenstruck by the strange coincidence of two events--the supposed murderer'sattempted suicide, and the magistrate's fall. Still, he did not allowthe vague presentiment that flitted through his mind to assume anydefinite form. For after all, what possible connection could there bebetween the two occurrences? Then again, he never allowed himself to begoverned by prejudice, nor had he as yet enriched his formulary with anaxiom he afterward professed: "Distrust all circumstances that seem tofavor your secret wishes."
Of course, Lecoq did not rejoice at M. d'Escorval's accident; could hehave prevented it, he would have gladly done so. Still, he could nothelp saying to himself that this stroke of misfortune would free himfrom all further connection with a man whose superciliousness anddisdain had been painfully disagreeable to his feelings.
This thought caused a sensation of relief--almost one oflight-heartedness. "In that case," said the young detective to thedoorkeeper, "I shall have nothing to do here this morning."
"You must be joking," was the reply. "Does the world stop moving becauseone man is disabled? The news only arrived an hour ago; but all theurgent business that M. d'Escorval had in charge has already beendivided among the other magistrates."
"I came here about that terrible affair that occurred the other nightjust beyond the Barriere de Fontainebleau."
"Eh! Why didn't you say so at once? A messenger has been sent to theprefecture after you already. M. Segmuller has charge of the case, andhe's waiting for you."
Doubt and perplexity were plainly written on Lecoq's forehead. He wastrying to remember the magistrate that bore this name, and wonderedwhether he was a likely man to espouse his views.
"Yes," resumed the doorkeeper, who seemed to be in a talkative mood, "M.Segmuller--you don't seem to know him. He is a worthy man, not quite sogrim as most of our gentlemen. A prisoner he had examined said one day:'That devil there has pumped me so well that I shall certainly have myhead chopped off; but, nevertheless, he's a good fellow!"
His heart somewhat lightened by these favorable reports, Lecoq wentand tapped at a door that was indicated to him, and which bore thenumber--22.
"Come in!" called out a pleasant voice.
The young detective entered, and found himself face to face with aman of some forty years of age, tall and rather corpulent, who at onceexclaimed: "Ah! you are Lecoq. Very well--take a seat. I am busy justnow looking over the papers of the case, but I will attend to you infive minutes."
Lecoq obeyed, at the same time glancing furtively at the magistratewith whom he was about to work. M. Segmuller's appearance correspondedperfectly with the description given by the doorkeeper. His plump facewore an air of frankness and benevolence, and his blue eyes had a mostpleasant expression. Nevertheless, Lecoq distrusted these appearances,and in so doing he was right.
Born near Strasbourg, M. Segmuller possessed that candid physiognomycommon to most of the natives of blonde Alsace--a deceitful mask, which,behind seeming simplicity, not unfrequently conceals a Gascon cunning,rendered all the more dangerous since it is allied with extreme caution.He had a wonderfully alert, penetrating mind; but his system--everymagistrate has his own--was mainly good-humor. Unlike most of hiscolleagues, who were as stiff and cutting in manner as the sword whichthe statue of Justice usually holds in her hand, he made simplicity andkindness of demeanor his leading trait, though, of course, without everlosing sight of his magisterial duties.
Still, the tone of his voice was so paternal, and the subtle purportof his questions so veiled by his seeming frankness, that most of thosewhom he examined forgot the necessity of protecting themselves, andunawares confessed their guilt. Thus, it frequently happened that whilesome unsuspecting culprit was complacently congratulating himself upongetting the best of the judge, the poor wretch was really being turnedinside out like a glove.
By the side of such a man as M. Segmuller a grave and slender clerkwould have excited distrust; so he had chosen one who was a caricatureof himself. This clerk's name was Goguet. He was short but corpulent,and his broad, beardless face habitually wore a silly smile, not out ofkeeping with his intellect, which was none of the brightest.
As stated above, when Lecoq entered M. Segmuller's room the latter wasbusy studying the case which had so unexpectedly fallen into his hands.All the articles which the young detective had collected, from theflakes of wool to the diamond earring, were spread out upon themagistrate's desk. With the greatest attention, he perused the reportprepared by Lecoq, and according to the different phases of the affair,he examined one or another of the objects before him, or else consultedthe plan of the ground.
"A good half-hour elapsed before he had completed his inspection, whenhe threw himself back in his armchair. Monsieur Lecoq," he said, slowly,"Monsieur d'Escorval has informed me by a note on the margin of thisfile of papers that you are an intelligent man, and that we can trustyou."
"I am willing, at all events."
"You speak too slightingly of yourself; this is the first time that anagent has brought me a report as complete as yours. You are young, andif you persevere, I think you will be able to accomplish great things inyour profession."
Nervous with delight, Lecoq bowed and stammered his thanks.
"Your opinion in this matter coincides with mine," continued M.Segmuller, "and the public prosecutor informs me that M. d'Escorvalshares the same views. An enigma is before us; and it ought to besolved."
"Oh!--we'll solve it, I am certain, sir," exclaimed Lecoq, who at thismoment felt capable of the most extraordinary achievements. Indeed,he would have gone through fire and water for the magistrate who hadreceived him so kindly, and his enthusiasm sparkled so plainly in hiseyes that M. Segmuller could not restrain a smile.
"I have strong hopes of it myself," he responded; "but we are farfrom the end. Now, what have you been doing since yesterday? DidM. d'Escorval give you any orders? Have you obtained any freshinformation?"
"I don't think I have wasted my time," replied Lecoq, who at onceproceeded to relate the various facts that had come to his knowledgesince his departure from the Poivriere.
With rare precision and that happiness of expression which seldom failsa man well acquainted with his subject, he recounted the daring featsof the presumed accomplice, the points he had noted in thesupposed murderer's conduct, the latter's unsuccessful attempt atself-destruction. He repeated the testimony given by the cab-driver, andby the concierge in the Rue de Bourgogne, and then read the letter hehad received from Father Absinthe.
In conclusion, he placed on the magistrate's desk some of the dirt hehad scraped from the prisoner's feet; at the same time depositing besideit a similar parcel of dust collected on the floor of the cell in whichthe murderer was confined at the Barriere d'Italie.
When Lecoq had explained the reasons that had led him to collect thissoil, and the conclusions that might be drawn from a comparison of thetwo parcels, M. Segmuller, who had been listening attentively, at onceexclaimed: "You are right. It may be that you have discovered a means toconfound all the prisoner's denials. At all events, this is certainly aproof o
f surprising sagacity on your part."
So it must have been, for Goguet, the clerk, nodded approvingly."Capital!" he murmured. "I should never have thought of that."
While he was talking, M. Segmuller had carefully placed all theso-called "articles of conviction" in a large drawer, from which theywould not emerge until the trial. "Now," said he, "I understand the casewell enough to examine the Widow Chupin. We may gain some informationfrom her."
He was laying his hand upon the bell, when Lecoq stopped him with analmost supplicating gesture. "I have one great favor to ask you, sir,"he observed.
"What is it?--speak."
"I should very much like to be present at this examination. It takes solittle, sometimes, to awaken a happy inspiration."
Although the law says that the accused shall first of all be privatelyexamined by the investigating magistrate assisted by his clerk, it alsoallows the presence of police agents. Accordingly, M. Segmuller toldLecoq that he might remain. At the same time he rang his bell; which wasspeedily answered by a messenger.
"Has the Widow Chupin been brought here, in compliance with my orders?"asked M. Segmuller.
"Yes, sir; she is in the gallery outside."
"Let her come in then."
An instant later the hostess of the Poivriere entered the room, bowingto the right and to the left. This was not her first appearance beforea magistrate, and she was not ignorant of the respect that is due tojustice. Accordingly, she had arrayed herself for her examination withthe utmost care. She had arranged her rebellious gray locks in smoothbandeaux, and her garments, although of common material, lookedpositively neat. She had even persuaded one of the prison warders to buyher--with the money she had about her at the time of her arrest--a blackcrape cap, and a couple of white pocket-handkerchiefs, intending todeluge the latter with her tears, should the situation call for apathetic display.
She was indeed far too knowing to rely solely on the mere artifices ofdress; hence, she had also drawn upon her repertoire of grimaces for aninnocent, sad, and yet resigned expression, well fitted, in her opinion,to win the sympathy and indulgence of the magistrate upon whom her fatewould depend.
Thus disguised, with downcast eyes and honeyed voice, she looked sounlike the terrible termagant of the Poivriere, that her customers wouldscarcely have recognized her. Indeed, an honest old bachelor might haveoffered her twenty francs a month to take charge of his chambers--solelyon the strength of her good looks. But M. Segmuller had unmasked so manyhypocrites that he was not deceived for a moment. "What an old actress!"he muttered to himself, and, glancing at Lecoq, he perceived the samethought sparkling in the young detective's eyes. It is true that themagistrate's penetration may have been due to some notes he had justperused--notes containing an abstract of the woman's former life, andfurnished by the chief of police at the magistrate's request.
With a gesture of authority M. Segmuller warned Goguet, the clerk withthe silly smile, to get his writing materials ready. He then turnedtoward the Widow Chupin. "Your name?" he asked in a sharp tone.
"Aspasie Claperdty, my maiden name," replied the old woman, "and to-day,the Widow Chupin, at your service, sir;" so saying, she made a lowcourtesy, and then added: "A lawful widow, you understand, sir; I havemy marriage papers safe in my chest at home; and if you wish to send anyone--"
"Your age?" interrupted the magistrate.
"Fifty-four."
"Your profession?"
"Dealer in wines and spirits outside of Paris, near the Rue duChateau-des-Rentiers, just beyond the fortifications."
A prisoner's examination always begins with these questions as toindividuality, which gives both the magistrate and the culprit timeto study each other, to try, as it were, each other's strength, beforejoining in a serious struggle; just as two duelists, about to engage inmortal combat, first try a few passes with the foils.
"Now," resumed M. Segmuller, "we will note your antecedents. Have younot already been found guilty of several offenses?"
The Widow Chupin was too well versed in criminal procedure to beignorant of those famous records which render the denial of identitysuch a difficult matter in France. "I have been unfortunate, my goodjudge," she whined.
"Yes, several times. First of all, you were arrested on a charge ofreceiving stolen goods."
"But it was proved that I was innocent, that my character was whiterthan snow. My poor, dear husband had been deceived by his comrades; thatwas all."
"Possibly. But while your husband was undergoing his sentence, you werecondemned, first to one month's and then to three months' imprisonmentfor stealing."
"Oh, I had some enemies who did their best to ruin me."
"Next you were imprisoned for having led some young girls astray."
"They were good-for-nothing hussies, my kind sir, heartless,unprincipled creatures. I did them many favors, and then they went andrelated a batch of falsehoods to ruin me. I have always been too kindand considerate toward others."
The list of the woman's offenses was not exhausted, but M. Segmullerthought it useless to continue. "Such is your past," he resumed. "At thepresent time your wine-shop is the resort of rogues and criminals.Your son is undergoing his fourth term of imprisonment; and it has beenclearly proved that you abetted and assisted him in his evil deeds. Yourdaughter-in-law, by some miracle, has remained honest and industrious,hence you have tormented and abused her to such an extent that theauthorities have been obliged to interfere. When she left your house youtried to keep her child--no doubt meaning to bring it up after the samefashion as its father."
"This," thought the Widow Chupin, "is the right moment to try andsoften the magistrate's heart." Accordingly, she drew one of hernew handkerchiefs from her pocket, and, by dint of rubbing her eyes,endeavored to extract a tear. "Oh, unhappy me," she groaned. "How canany one imagine that I would harm my grandson, my poor little Toto! Why,I should be worse than a wild beast to try and bring my own flesh andblood to perdition."
She soon perceived, however, that her lamentations did not much affectM. Segmuller, hence, suddenly changing both her tone and manner, shebegan her justification. She did not positively deny her past; but shethrew all the blame on the injustice of destiny, which, while favoring afew, generally the less deserving, showed no mercy to others. Alas!she was one of those who had had no luck in life, having always beenpersecuted, despite her innocence. In this last affair, for instance,how was she to blame? A triple murder had stained her shop with blood;but the most respectable establishments are not exempt from similarcatastrophes. During her solitary confinement, she had, said she, diveddown into the deepest recesses of her conscience, and she was stillunable to discover what blame could justly be laid at her door.
"I can tell you," interrupted the magistrate. "You are accused ofimpeding the action of the law."
"Good heavens! Is it possible?"
"And of seeking to defeat justice. This is equivalent to complicity,Widow Chupin; take care. When the police entered your cabin, after thiscrime had been committed, you refused to answer their questions."
"I told them all that I knew."
"Very well, then, you must repeat what you told them to me."
M. Segmuller had reason to feel satisfied. He had conducted theexamination in such a way that the Widow Chupin would now have toinitiate a narrative of the tragedy. This excellent point gained; forthis shrewd old woman, possessed of all her coolness, would naturallyhave been on her guard against any direct questions. Now, it wasessential that she should not suspect either what the magistrate knewof the affair, or what he was ignorant of. By leaving her to her owndevices she might, in the course of the version which she proposed tosubstitute for the truth, not merely strengthen Lecoq's theories, butalso let fall some remark calculated to facilitate the task of futureinvestigation. Both M. Segmuller and Lecoq were of opinion that theversion of the crime which they were about to hear had been concoctedat the station-house of the Place d'Italie while the murderer and thespurious drunkard were left t
ogether, and that it had been transmittedby the accomplice to the widow during the brief conversation they wereallowed to have through the wicket of the latter's cell.
Invited by the magistrate to recount the circumstances of the tragedy,Mother Chupin did not hesitate for a moment. "Oh, it was a very simpleaffair, my good sir," she began. "I was sitting by my fireside on Sundayevening, when suddenly the door opened, and three men and two women camein."
M. Segmuller and the young detective exchanged glances. The accomplicehad evidently seen Lecoq and his comrade examining the footprints, andaccordingly the presence of the two women was not to be denied.
"What time was this?" asked the magistrate.
"About eleven o'clock."
"Go on."
"As soon as they sat down they ordered a bowl of wine, a la Frangaise.Without boasting, I may say that I haven't an equal in preparing thatdrink. Of course, I waited on them, and afterward, having a blouse tomend for my boy, I went upstairs to my room, which is just over theshop."
"Leaving the people alone?"
"Yes, my judge."
"That showed a great deal of confidence on your part."
The widow sadly shook her head. "People as poor as I am don't fear thethieves," she sighed.
"Go on--go on."
"Well, I had been upstairs about half an hour, when I heard some onebelow call out: 'Eh! old woman!' So I went down, and found a tall,big-bearded man, who had just come in. He asked for a glass of brandy,which I brought to a table where he had sat down by himself."
"And then did you go upstairs again?" interrupted the magistrate.
The exclamation was ironical, of course, but no one could have told fromthe Widow Chupin's placid countenance whether she was aware that suchwas the case.
"Precisely, my good sir," she replied in the most composed manner. "Onlythis time I had scarcely taken up my needle when I heard a terribleuproar in the shop. I hurried downstairs to put a stop to it--but heavenknows my interference would have been of little use. The three men whohad come in first of all had fallen upon the newcomer, and they werebeating him, my good sir, they were killing him. I screamed. Just thenthe man who had come in alone drew a revolver from his pocket; he firedand killed one of his assailants, who fell to the ground. I was sofrightened that I crouched on the staircase and threw my apron overmy head that I might not see the blood run. An instant later MonsieurGevrol arrived with his men; they forced open the door, and behold--"
The Widow Chupin here stopped short. These wretched old women, who havetrafficked in every sort of vice, and who have tasted every disgrace,at times attain a perfection of hypocrisy calculated to deceive the mostsubtle penetration. Any one unacquainted with the antecedents of thelandlady of the Poivriere would certainly have been impressed by herapparent candor, so skillfully did she affect a display of frankness,surprise, and fear. Her expression would have been simply perfect, hadit not been for her eyes, her small gray eyes, as restless as those of acaged animal, and gleaming at intervals with craftiness and cunning.
There she stood, mentally rejoicing at the success of her narrative, forshe was convinced that the magistrate placed implicit confidence in herrevelations, although during her recital, delivered, by the way, withconjurer-like volubility, not a muscle of M. Segmuller's face hadbetrayed what was passing in his mind. When she paused, out of breath,he rose from his seat, and without a word approached his clerk toinspect the notes taken during the earlier part of the examination.
From the corner where he was quietly seated, Lecoq did not ceasewatching the prisoner. "She thinks that it's all over," he muttered tohimself; "she fancies that her deposition is accepted without question."
If such were, indeed, the widow's opinion, she was soon to beundeceived; for, after addressing a few low-spoken words to the smilingGoguet, M. Segmuller took a seat near the fireplace, convinced that themoment had now come to abandon defensive tactics, and open fire on theenemy's position.
"So, Widow Chupin," he began, "you tell us that you didn't remain for asingle moment with the people who came into your shop that evening!"
"Not a moment."
"They came in and ordered what they wanted; you waited on them, and thenleft them to themselves?"
"Yes, my good sir."
"It seems to me impossible that you didn't overhear some words of theirconversation. What were they talking about?"
"I am not in the habit of playing spy over my customers."
"Didn't you hear anything?"
"Nothing at all."
The magistrate shrugged his shoulders with an air of commiseration. "Inother words," he remarked, "you refuse to inform justice--"
"Oh, my good sir!"
"Allow me to finish. All these improbable stories about leaving the shopand mending your son's clothes in your bedroom are so many inventions.You have concocted them so as to be able to say to me: 'I didn't seeanything; I didn't hear anything.' If such is your system of defense,I warn you that it will be impossible for you to maintain it, and I mayadd that it would not be admitted by any tribunal."
"It is not a system of defense; it is the truth."
M. Segmuller seemed to reflect for a moment; then, suddenly, heexclaimed: "Then you have nothing to tell me about this miserableassassin?"
"But he is not an assassin, my good sir."
"What do you mean by such an assertion?"
"I mean that he only killed the others in protecting himself. Theypicked a quarrel with him; he was alone against three, and saw veryplainly that he could expect no mercy from brigands who--"
The color rose to the Widow Chupin's cheeks, and she suddenly checkedherself, greatly embarrassed, and evidently regretting that she hadnot bridled her tongue. It is true she might reasonably hope, that themagistrate had imperfectly heard her words, and had failed to seizetheir full purport, for two or three red-hot coals having fallen fromthe grate on the hearth, he had taken up the tongs, and seemed to beengrossed in the task of artistically arranging the fire.
"Who can tell me--who can prove to me that, on the contrary, it was notthis man who first attacked the others?" he murmured, thoughtfully.
"I can," stoutly declared the widow, already forgetful of her prudenthesitation, "I can swear it."
M. Segmuller looked up, intense astonishment written upon his face. "Howcan you know that?" he said slowly. "How can you swear it? You were inyour bedroom when the quarrel began."
Silent and motionless in his corner, Lecoq was inwardly jubilant. Thiswas a most happy result, he thought, but a few questions more, and theold woman would be obliged to contradict herself. What she had alreadysaid sufficed to show that she must have a secret interest in thematter, or else she would never have been so imprudently earnest indefending the prisoner.
"However, you have probably been led to this conclusion by yourknowledge of the murderer's character," remarked M. Segmuller, "you areapparently well acquainted with him."
"Oh, I had never set eyes on him before that evening."
"But he must have been in your establishment before?"
"Never in his life."
"Oh, oh! Then how do you explain that on entering the shop while youwere upstairs, this unknown person--this stranger--should have calledout: 'Here, old woman!' Did he merely guess that the establishment waskept by a woman; and that this woman was no longer young?"
"He did not say that."
"Reflect a moment; you, yourself just told me so."
"Oh, I didn't say that, I'm sure, my good sir."
"Yes, you did, and I will prove it by having your evidence read. Goguet,read the passage, if you please."
The smiling clerk looked back through his minutes and then, in hisclearest voice, he read these words, taken down as they fell from theWidow Chupin's lips: "I had been upstairs about half an hour, when Iheard some one below call out 'Eh! old woman.' So I went down," etc.,etc.
"Are you convinced?" asked M. Segmuller.
The old offender's assurance was sensibly diminished
by this proofof her prevarication. However, instead of discussing the subject anyfurther, the magistrate glided over it as if he did not attach muchimportance to the incident.
"And the other men," he resumed, "those who were killed: did you knowthem?"
"No, good sir, no more than I knew Adam and Eve."
"And were you not surprised to see three men utterly unknown to you, andaccompanied by two women, enter your establishment?"
"Sometimes chance--"
"Come! you do not think of what you are saying. It was not chance thatbrought these customers, in the middle of the night, to a wine-shopwith a reputation like yours--an establishment situated far from anyfrequented route in the midst of a desolate waste."
"I'm not a sorceress; I say what I think."
"Then you did not even know the youngest of the victims, the man who wasattired as a soldier, he who was named Gustave?"
"Not at all."
M. Segmuller noted the intonation of this response, and then slowlyadded: "But you must have heard of one of Gustave's friends, a mancalled Lacheneur?"
On hearing this name, the landlady of the Poivriere became visiblyembarrassed, and it was in an altered voice that she stammered:"Lacheneur! Lacheneur! no, I have never heard that name mentioned."
Still despite her denial, the effect of M. Segmuller's remark wasevident, and Lecoq secretly vowed that he would find this Lacheneur, atany cost. Did not the "articles of conviction" comprise a letter sent bythis man to Gustave, and written, so Lecoq had reason to believe, ina cafe on the Boulevard Beaumarchais? With such a clue and a littlepatience, the mysterious Lacheneur might yet be discovered.
"Now," continued M. Segmuller, "let us speak of the women whoaccompanied these unfortunate men. What sort of women were they?"
"Oh! women of no account whatever!"
"Were they well dressed?"
"On the contrary, very miserably."
"Well, give me a description of them."
"They were tall and powerfully built, and indeed, as it was ShroveSunday, I first of all took them for men in disguise. They had handslike shoulders of mutton, gruff voices, and very black hair. They wereas dark as mulattoes--"
"Enough!" interrupted the magistrate, "I require no further proof ofyour mendacity. These women were short, and one of them was remarkablyfair."
"I swear to you, my good sir--"
"Do not declare it upon oath. I shall be forced to confront you with anhonest man, who will tell you to your face that you are a liar!"
The widow did not reply, and there was a moment's silence. M. Segmullerdetermined to deal a decisive blow. "Do you also affirm that you hadnothing of a compromising character in the pocket of your apron?" heasked.
"Nothing--you may have it examined; it was left in the house."
"Then you still persist in your system," resumed M. Segmuller. "Believeme, you are wrong. Reflect--it rests with you to go to the Assize Courtas a witness, or an accomplice."
Although the widow seemed crushed by this unexpected blow, themagistrate did not add another word. Her deposition was read over toher, she signed it, and was then led away.
M. Segmuller immediately seated himself at his desk, filled up a blankform and handed it to his clerk, saying: "This is an order for thegovernor of the Depot. Tell him to send the supposed murderer here atonce."