CHAPTER FOUR
THE CLOUDED TURQUOISE
It was about nine o'clock in the morning when the Prefect of Policeentered the study in which the incomprehensible tragedy of that doublemurder had been enacted.
He did not even bow to Don Luis; and the magistrates who accompanied himmight have thought that Don Luis was merely an assistant of SergeantMazeroux, if the chief detective had not made it his business to tellthem, in a few words, the part played by the stranger.
M. Desmalions briefly examined the two corpses and received a rapidexplanation from Mazeroux. Then, returning to the hall, he went up to adrawing-room on the first floor, where Mme. Fauville, who had beeninformed of his visit, joined him almost at once.
Perenna, who had not stirred from the passage, slipped into the hallhimself. The servants of the house, who by this time had heard of themurder, were crossing it in every direction. He went down the few stairsleading to a ground-floor landing, on which the front door opened.
There were two men there, of whom one said:
"You can't pass."
"But--"
"You can't pass: those are our orders."
"Your orders? Who gave them?"
"The Prefect himself."
"No luck," said Perenna, laughing. "I have been up all night and I amstarving. Is there no way of getting something to eat?"
The two policemen exchanged glances and one of them beckoned to Silvestreand spoke to him. Silvestre went toward the dining-room, and returnedwith a horseshoe roll.
"Good," thought Don Luis, after thanking him. "This settles it. I'mnabbed. That's what I wanted to know. But M. Desmalions is deficient inlogic. For, if it's Arsene Lupin whom he means to detain here, all theseworthy plain-clothesmen are hardly enough; and, if it's Don Luis Perenna,they are superfluous, because the flight of Master Perenna would depriveMaster Perenna of every chance of seeing the colour of my poor Cosmo'sshekels. Having said which, I will take a chair."
He resumed his seat in the passage and awaited events.
Through the open door of the study he saw the magistrates pursuingtheir investigations. The divisional surgeon made a first examinationof the two bodies and at once recognized the same symptoms of poisoningwhich he himself had perceived, the evening before, on the corpse ofInspector Verot.
Next, the detectives took up the bodies and carried them to the adjoiningbedrooms which the father and son formerly occupied on the second floorof the house.
The Prefect of Police then came downstairs; and Don Luis heard him say tothe magistrates:
"Poor woman! She refused to understand.... When at last she understood,she fell to the ground in a dead faint. Only think, her husband and herson at one blow!... Poor thing!"
From that moment Perenna heard and saw nothing. The door was shut. ThePrefect must afterward have given some order through the outside, throughthe communication with the front door offered by the garden, for the twodetectives came and took up their positions in the hall, at the entranceto the passage, on the right and left of the dividing curtain.
"One thing's certain," thought Don Luis. "My shares are not booming. Whata state Alexandre must be in! Oh, what a state!"
At twelve o'clock Silvestre brought him some food on a tray.
And the long and painful wait began anew.
In the study and in the house, the inquiry, which had been adjourned forlunch, was resumed. Perenna heard footsteps and the sound of voices onevery side. At last, feeling tired and bored, he leaned back in his chairand fell asleep.
* * * * *
It was four o'clock when Sergeant Mazeroux came and woke him. As he ledhim to the study, Mazeroux whispered:
"Well, have you discovered him?"
"Whom?"
"The murderer."
"Of course!" said Perenna. "It's as easy as shelling peas!"
"That's a good thing!" said Mazeroux, greatly relieved and failing to seethe joke. "But for that, as you saw for yourself, you would have beendone for."
Don Luis entered. In the room were the public prosecutor, the examiningmagistrate, the chief detective, the local commissary of police, twoinspectors, and three constables in uniform.
Outside, on the Boulevard Suchet, shouts were raised; and, when thecommissary and his three policemen went out, by the Prefect's orders, tolisten to the crowd, the hoarse voice of a newsboy was heard shouting:
"The double murder on the Boulevard Suchet! Full particulars of the deathof Inspector Verot! The police at a loss!--"
Then, when the door was closed, all was silent.
"Mazeroux was quite right," thought Don Luis. "It's I or the other one:that's clear. Unless the words that will be spoken and the facts thatwill come to light in the course of this examination supply me with someclue that will enable me to give them the name of that mysterious X,they'll surrender me this evening for the people to batten on. Attention,Lupin, old chap, the great game is about to commence!"
He felt that thrill of delight which always ran through him at theapproach of the great struggles. This one, indeed, might be numberedamong the most terrible that he had yet sustained.
He knew the Prefect's reputation, his experience, his tenacity, and thekeen pleasure which he took in conducting important inquiries and inpersonally pushing them to a conclusion before placing them in themagistrate's hands; and he also knew all the professional qualities ofthe chief detective, and all the subtlety, all the penetrating logicpossessed by the examining magistrate.
The Prefect of Police himself directed the attack. He did so in astraightforward fashion, without beating about the bush, and in a ratherharsh voice, which had lost its former tone of sympathy for Don Luis. Hisattitude also was more formal and lacked that geniality which had struckDon Luis on the previous day.
"Monsieur," he said, "circumstances having brought about that, as theresiduary legatee and representative of Mr. Cosmo Mornington, you spentthe night on this ground floor while a double murder was being committedhere, we wish to receive your detailed evidence as to the differentincidents that occurred last night."
"In other words, Monsieur le Prefet," said Perenna, replying directly tothe attack, "in other words, circumstances having brought about that youauthorized me to spend the night here, you would like to know if myevidence corresponds at all points with that of Sergeant Mazeroux?"
"Yes."
"Meaning that the part played by myself strikes you as suspicious?"
M. Desmalions hesitated. His eyes met Don Luis's eyes; and he was visiblyimpressed by the other's frank glance. Nevertheless he replied, plainlyand bluntly:
"It is not for you to ask me questions, Monsieur."
Don Luis bowed.
"I am at your orders, Monsieur le Prefet."
"Please tell us what you know."
Don Luis thereupon gave a minute account of events, after which M.Desmalions reflected for a few moments and said:
"There is one point on which we want to be informed. When you enteredthis room at half-past two this morning and sat down beside M. Fauville,was there nothing to tell you that he was dead?"
"Nothing, Monsieur le Prefet. Otherwise, Sergeant Mazeroux and I wouldhave given the alarm."
"Was the garden door shut?"
"It must have been, as we had to unlock it at seven o'clock."
"With what?"
"With the key on the bunch."
"But how could the murderers, coming from the outside, have opened it?"
"With false keys."
"Have you a proof which allows you to suppose that it was opened withfalse keys?"
"No, Monsieur le Prefet."
"Therefore, until we have proofs to the contrary, we are bound to believethat it was not opened from the outside, and that the criminal was insidethe house."
"But, Monsieur le Prefet, there was no one here but Sergeant Mazerouxand myself!"
There was a silence, a pause whose meaning admitted of no doubt.M. Desmalions's next words gave it an
even more precise value.
"You did not sleep during the night?"
"Yes, toward the end."
"You did not sleep before, while you were in the passage?"
"No."
"And Sergeant Mazeroux?"
Don Luis remained undecided for a moment; but how could he hope that thehonest and scrupulous Mazeroux had disobeyed the dictates of hisconscience?
He replied:
"Sergeant Mazeroux went to sleep in his chair and did not wake until Mme.Fauville returned, two hours later."
There was a fresh silence, which evidently meant:
"So, during the two hours when Sergeant Mazeroux was asleep, it wasphysically possible for you to open the door and kill the two Fauvilles."
The examination was taking the course which Perenna had foreseen; andthe circle was drawing closer and closer around him. His adversary wasconducting the contest with a logic and vigour which he admiredwithout reserve.
"By Jove!" he thought. "How difficult it is to defend one's self when oneis innocent. There's my right wing and my left wing driven in. Will mycentre be able to stand the assault?"
M. Desmalions, after a whispered colloquy with the examining magistrate,resumed his questions in these terms:
"Yesterday evening, when M. Fauville opened his safe in your presence andthe sergeant's, what was in the safe?"
"A heap of papers, on one of the shelves; and, among those papers, thediary in drab cloth which has since disappeared."
"You did not touch those papers?"
"Neither the papers nor the safe, Monsieur le Prefet. Sergeant Mazerouxmust have told you that he made me stand aside, to insure the regularityof the inquiry."
"So you never came into the slightest contact with the safe?"
"Not the slightest."
M. Desmalions looked at the examining magistrate and nodded his head. HadPerenna been able to doubt that a trap was being laid for him, a glanceat Mazeroux would have told him all about it. Mazeroux was ashen gray.
Meanwhile, M. Desmalions continued:
"You have taken part in inquiries, Monsieur, in police inquiries.Therefore, in putting my next question to you, I consider that I amaddressing it to a tried detective."
"I will answer your question, Monsieur le Prefet, to the best ofmy ability."
"Here it is, then: Supposing that there were at this moment in the safean object of some kind, a jewel, let us say, a diamond out of a tie pin,and that this diamond had come from a tie pin which belonged to somebodywhom we knew, somebody who had spent the night in this house, what wouldyou think of the coincidence?"
"There we are," said Perenna to himself. "There's the trap. It's clearthat they've found something in the safe, and next, that they imaginethat this something belongs to me. Good! But, in that case, we mustpresume, as I have not touched the safe, that the thing was taken from meand put in the safe to compromise me. But I did not have a finger in thispie until yesterday; and it is impossible that, during last night, when Isaw nobody, any one can have had time to prepare and contrive such adetermined plot against me. So--"
The Prefect of Police interrupted this silent monologue by repeating:
"What would be your opinion?"
"There would be an undeniable connection between that person's presencein the house and the two crimes that had been committed."
"Consequently, we should have the right at least to suspect the person?"
"Yes."
"That is your view?"
"Decidedly."
M. Desmalions produced a piece of tissue paper from his pocket and tookfrom it a little blue stone, which he displayed.
"Here is a turquoise which we found in the safe. It belongs, without ashadow of a doubt, to the ring which you are wearing on your finger."
Don Luis was seized with a fit of rage. He half grated, through hisclenched teeth:
"Oh, the rascals! How clever they are! But no, I can't believe--"
He looked at his ring, which was formed of a large, clouded, deadturquoise, surrounded by a circle of small, irregular turquoises, also ofa very pale blue. One of these was missing; and the one which M.Desmalions had in his hand fitted the place exactly.
"What do you say?" asked M. Desmalions.
"I say that this turquoise belongs to my ring, which was given me byCosmo Mornington on the first occasion that I saved his life."
"So we are agreed?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Prefet, we are agreed."
Don Luis Perenna began to walk across the room, reflecting. The movementwhich the two detectives made toward the two doors told him that hisarrest was provided for. A word from M. Desmalions, and Sergeant Mazerouxwould be forced to take his chief by the collar.
Don Luis once more gave a glance toward his former accomplice. Mazerouxmade a gesture of entreaty, as though to say:
"Well, what are you waiting for? Why don't you give up the criminal?Quick, it's time!"
Don Luis smiled.
"What's the matter?" asked the Prefect, in a tone that now entirelylacked the sort of involuntary politeness which he had shown since thecommencement of the examination.
"The matter? The matter?--"
Perenna seized a chair by the back, spun it round and sat down upon it,with the simple remark:
"Let's talk!"
And this was said in such a way and the movement executed with so muchdecision that the Prefect muttered, as though wavering:
"I don't quite see--"
"You soon will, Monsieur le Prefet."
And, speaking in a slow voice, laying stress on every syllable that heuttered, he began:
"Monsieur le Prefet, the position is as clear as daylight. Yesterdayevening you gave me an authorization which involves your responsibilitymost gravely. The result is that what you now want, at all costs andwithout delay, is a culprit. And that culprit is to be myself. By way ofincriminating evidence, you have the fact of my presence here, the factthe door was locked on the inside, the fact that Sergeant Mazeroux wasasleep while the crime was committed, and the fact of the discovery ofthe turquoise in the safe. All this is crushing, I admit. Added to it,"he continued, "we have the terrible presumption that I had every interestin the removal of M. Fauville and his son, inasmuch as, if there is noheir of Cosmo Mornington's in existence, I come into a hundred millionfrancs. Exactly. There is therefore nothing for me to do, Monsieur lePrefet, but to go with you to the lockup or else--"
"Or else what?"
"Or else hand over to you the criminal, the real criminal."
The Prefect of Police smiled and took out his watch.
"I'm waiting," he said.
"It will take me just an hour, Monsieur le Prefet, and no more, if yougive me every latitude. And the search of the truth, it seems to me, isworth a little patience."
"I'm waiting," repeated M. Desmalions.
"Sergeant Mazeroux, please tell Silvestre, the manservant, that Monsieurle Prefet wishes to see him."
Upon a sign from M. Desmalions, Mazeroux went out.
Don Luis explained his motive.
"Monsieur le Prefet, whereas the discovery of the turquoise constitutesin your eyes an extremely serious proof against me, to me it is arevelation of the highest importance. I will tell you why. That turquoisemust have fallen from my ring last evening and rolled on the carpet.
"Now there are only four persons," he continued, "who can have noticedthis fall when it happened, picked up the turquoise and, in order tocompromise the new adversary that I was, slipped it into the safe. Thefirst of those four persons is one of your detectives, Sergeant Mazeroux,of whom we will not speak. The second is dead: I refer to M. Fauville. Wewill not speak of him. The third is Silvestre, the manservant. I shouldlike to say a few words to him. I shall not take long."
Silvestre's examination, in fact, was soon over. He was able to provethat, pending the return of Mme. Fauville, for whom he had to open thedoor, he had not left the kitchen, where he was playing at cards with thelady's maid and another manservant.
"Very well," said Perenna. "One word more. You must have read in thismorning's papers of the death of Inspector Verot and seen his portrait."
"Yes."
"Do you know Inspector Verot?"
"No."
"Still, it is probable that he came here yesterday, during the day."
"I can't say," replied the servant. "M. Fauville used to receive manyvisitors through the garden and let them in himself."
"You have no more evidence to give?"
"No."
"Please tell Mme. Fauville that Monsieur le Prefet would be very muchobliged if he could have a word with her."
Silvestre left the room.
The examining magistrate and the public prosecutor had drawn nearer inastonishment.
The Prefect exclaimed:
"What, Monsieur! You don't mean to pretend that Mme. Fauville ismixed up--"
"Monsieur le Prefet, Mme. Fauville is the fourth person who may have seenthe turquoise drop out of my ring."
"And what then? Have we the right, in the absence of any real proof,to suppose that a woman can kill her husband, that a mother canpoison her son?"
"I am supposing nothing, Monsieur le Prefet."
"Then--?"
Don Luis made no reply. M. Desmalions did not conceal his irritation.However, he said:
"Very well; but I order you most positively to remain silent. Whatquestions am I to put to Mme. Fauville?"
"One only, Monsieur le Prefet: ask Mme. Fauville if she knows any one,apart from her husband, who is descended from the sisters Roussel."
"Why that question?"
"Because, if that descendant exists, it is not I who will inherit themillions, but he; and then it will be he and not I who would beinterested in the removal of M. Fauville and his son."
"Of course, of course," muttered M. Desmalions. "But even so, thisnew trail--"
Mme. Fauville entered as he was speaking. Her face remained charming andpretty in spite of the tears that had reddened her eyelids and impairedthe freshness of her cheeks. But her eyes expressed the scare of terror;and the obsession of the tragedy imparted to all her attractivepersonality, to her gait and to her movements, something feverish andspasmodic that was painful to look upon.
"Pray sit down, Madame," said the Prefect, speaking with the heightof deference, "and forgive me for inflicting any additional emotionupon you. But time is precious; and we must do everything to makesure that the two victims whose loss you are mourning shall beavenged without delay."
Tears were still streaming from her beautiful eyes; and, with a sob, shestammered:
"If the police need me, Monsieur le Prefet--"
"Yes, it is a question of obtaining a few particulars. Your husband'smother is dead, is she not?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Prefet."
"Am I correct in saying that she came from Saint-Etienne and that hermaiden name was Roussel?"
"Yes."
"Elizabeth Roussel?"
"Yes."
"Had your husband any brothers or sisters?"
"No."
"Therefore there is no descendant of Elizabeth Roussel living?"
"No."
"Very well. But Elizabeth Roussel had two sisters, did she not?"
"Yes."
"Ermeline Roussel, the elder, went abroad and was not heard of again. Theother, the younger--"
"The other was called Armande Roussel. She was my mother."
"Eh? What do you say?"
"I said my mother's maiden name was Armande Roussel, and I married mycousin, the son of Elizabeth Roussel."
The statement had the effect of a thunderclap. So, upon the death ofHippolyte Fauville and his son Edmond, the direct descendants of theeldest sister, Cosmo Mornington's inheritance passed to the otherbranch, that of Armande Roussel; and this branch was represented so farby Mme. Fauville!
The Prefect of Police and the examining magistrate exchanged glancesand both instinctively turned toward Don Luis Perenna, who did notmove a muscle.
"Have you no brother or sister, Madame?" asked the Prefect.
"No, Monsieur le Prefet, I am the only one."
The only one! In other words, now that her husband and son were dead,Cosmo Mornington's millions reverted absolutely and undeniably to her, toher alone.
Meanwhile, a hideous idea weighed like a nightmare upon the magistratesand they could not rid themselves of it: the woman sitting before themwas the mother of Edmond Fauville. M. Desmalions had his eyes on Don LuisPerenna, who wrote a few words on a card and handed it to the Prefect.
M. Desmalions, who was gradually resuming toward Don Luis his courteousattitude of the day before, read it, reflected a moment, and put thisquestion to Mme. Fauville:
"What was your son Edmond's age?"
"Seventeen."
"You look so young--"
"Edmond was not my son, but my stepson, the son of my husband by hisfirst wife, who died,"
"Ah! So Edmond Fauville--" muttered the Prefect, without finishinghis sentence.
In two minutes the whole situation had changed. In the eyes of themagistrates, Mme. Fauville was no longer the widow and mother who must onno account be attacked. She had suddenly become a woman whomcircumstances compelled them to cross-examine. However prejudiced theymight be in her favour, however charmed by the seductive qualities of herbeauty, they were inevitably bound to ask themselves, whether for somereason or other, for instance, in order to be alone in the enjoyment ofthe enormous fortune, she had not had the madness to kill her husband andto kill the boy who was only her husband's son. In any case, the questionwas there, calling for a solution.
The Prefect of Police continued:
"Do you know this turquoise?"
She took the stone which he held out to her and examined it without theleast sign of confusion.
"No," she said. "I have an old-fashioned turquoise necklace, which Inever wear, but the stones are larger and none of them has thisirregular shape."
"We found this one in the safe," said M. Desmalions. "It forms part of aring belonging to a person whom we know."
"Well," she said eagerly, "you must find that person."
"He is here," said the Prefect, pointing to Don Luis, who had beenstanding some way off and who had not been noticed by Mme. Fauville.
She started at the sight of Perenna and cried, very excitedly:
"But that gentleman was here yesterday evening! He was talking to myhusband--and so was that other gentleman," she said, referring toSergeant Mazeroux. "You must question them, find out why they were here.You understand that, if the turquoise belonged to one of them--"
The insinuation was direct, but clumsy; and it lent the greatest weightto Perenna's unspoken argument:
"The turquoise was picked up by some one who saw me yesterday and whowishes to compromise me. Apart from M. Fauville and the detectivesergeant, only two people saw me: Silvestre, the manservant, and Mme.Fauville. Consequently, as Silvestre is outside the question, I accuseMme. Fauville of putting the turquoise in the safe."
M. Desmalions asked:
"Will you let me see the necklace, Madame?"
"Certainly. It is with my other jewels, in my wardrobe. I will go forit."
"Pray don't trouble, Madame. Does your maid know the necklace?"
"Quite well."
"In that case, Sergeant Mazeroux will tell her what is wanted."
* * * * *
Not a word was spoken during the few minutes for which Mazeroux wasabsent. Mme. Fauville seemed absorbed in her grief. M. Desmalions kepthis eyes fixed on her.
The sergeant returned, carrying a very large box containing a number ofjewel-cases and loose ornaments.
M. Desmalions found the necklace, examined it, and realized, in fact,that the stones did not resemble the turquoise and that none of them wasmissing. But, on separating two jewel cases in order to take out a tiarawhich also contained blue stones, he made a gesture of surprise.
"What are these two
keys?" he asked, pointing to two keys identical inshape and size with those which opened the lock and the bolt of thegarden door.
Mme. Fauville remained very calm. Not a muscle of her face moved. Nothingpointed to the least perturbation on account of this discovery. Shemerely said:
"I don't know. They have been there a long time."
"Mazeroux," said M. Desmalions, "try them on that door."
Mazeroux did so. The door opened.
"Yes," said Mme. Fauville. "I remember now, my husband gave them to me.They were duplicates of his own keys--"
The words were uttered in the most natural tone and as though the speakerdid not even suspect the terrible charge that was forming against her.
And nothing was more agonizing than this tranquillity. Was it a sign ofabsolute innocence, or the infernal craft of a criminal whom nothing isable to stir? Did she realize nothing of the tragedy which was takingplace and of which she was the unconscious heroine? Or did she guess theterrible accusation which was gradually closing in upon her on every sideand which threatened her with the most awful danger? But, in that case,how could she have been guilty of the extraordinary blunder of keepingthose two keys?
A series of questions suggested itself to the minds of all those present.The Prefect of Police put them as follows:
"You were out, Madame, were you not, when the murders were committed?"
"Yes."
"You were at the opera?"
"Yes; and I went on to a party at the house of one of my friends, Mme.d'Ersingen."
"Did your chauffeur drive you?"
"To the opera, yes. But I sent him back to his garage; and he came tofetch me at the party."
"I see," said M. Desmalions. "But how did you go from the opera to Mme.d'Ersingen's?"
For the first time, Mme. Fauville seemed to understand that she was thevictim of a regular cross-examination; and her look and attitude betrayeda certain uneasiness. She replied:
"I took a motor cab."
"In the street?"
"On the Place de l'Opera."
"At twelve o'clock, therefore?"
"No, at half-past eleven: I left before the opera was over."
"You were in a hurry to get to your friend's?"
"Yes ... or rather--"
She stopped; her cheeks were scarlet; her lips and chin trembled; andshe asked:
"Why do you ask me all these questions?"
"They are necessary, Madame. They may throw a light on what we want toknow. I beg you, therefore, to answer them. At what time did you reachyour friend's house?"
"I hardly know. I did not notice the time."
"Did you go straight there?"
"Almost."
"How do you mean, almost?"
"I had a little headache and told the driver to go up the ChampsElysees and the Avenue du Bois--very slowly--and then down the ChampsElysees again--"
She was becoming more and more embarrassed. Her voice grew indistinct.She lowered her head and was silent.
Certainly her silence contained no confession, and there was nothingentitling any one to believe that her dejection was other than aconsequence of her grief. But yet she seemed so weary as to give theimpression that, feeling herself lost, she was giving up the fight. Andit was almost a feeling of pity that was entertained for this womanagainst whom all the circumstances seemed to be conspiring, and whodefended herself so badly that her cross-examiner hesitated to press heryet further.
M. Desmalions, in fact, wore an irresolute air, as if the victory hadbeen too easy, and as if he had some scruple about pursuing it.
Mechanically he observed Perenna, who passed him a slip of paper, saying:
"Mme. d'Ersingen's telephone number."
M. Desmalions murmured:
"Yes, true, they may know--"
And, taking down the receiver, he asked for number 325.04. He wasconnected at once and continued:
"Who is that speaking?... The butler? Ah! Is Mme. d'Ersingen athome?... No?... Or Monsieur?... Not he, either?... Never mind, you cantell me what I want to know. I am M. Desmalions, the Prefect of Police,and I need certain information. At what time did Mme. Fauville come lastnight?... What do you say?... Are you sure?... At two o'clock in themorning?... Not before?... And she went away?... In ten minutestime?... Good ... But you're certain you are not mistaken about thetime when she arrived? I must know this positively: it is mostimportant.... You say it was two o'clock in the morning? Two o'clock inthe morning?... Very well.... Thank you."
When M. Desmalions turned round, he saw Mme. Fauville standing beside himand looking at him with an expression of mad anguish. And one and thesame idea occurred to the mind of all the onlookers. They were in thepresence either of an absolutely innocent woman or else of an exceptionalactress whose face lent itself to the most perfect simulation ofinnocence.
"What do you want?" she stammered. "What does this mean? Explainyourself!"
Then M. Desmalions asked simply:
"What were you doing last night between half-past eleven in the eveningand two o'clock in the morning?"
It was a terrifying question at the stage which the examination hadreached, a fatal question implying:
"If you cannot give us an exact and strict account of the way in whichyou employed your time while the crime was being committed, we have theright to conclude that you were not alien to the murder of your husbandand stepson--"
She understood it in this sense and staggered on her feet, moaning:
"It's horrible!... horrible!"
The Prefect repeated:
"What were you doing? The question must be quite easy to answer."
"Oh," she cried, in the same piteous tone, "how can you believe!... Oh,no, no, it's not possible! How can you believe!"
"I believe nothing yet," he said. "Besides, you can establish the truthwith a single word."
It seemed, from the movement of her lips and the sudden gesture ofresolution that shook her frame, as though she were about to speak thatword. But all at once she appeared stupefied and dumfounded, pronounced afew unintelligible syllables, and fell huddled into a chair, sobbingconvulsively and uttering cries of despair.
It was tantamount to a confession. At the very least, it was a confessionof her inability to supply the plausible explanation which would have putan end to the discussion.
The Prefect of Police moved away from her and spoke in a low voice to theexamining magistrate and the public prosecutor. Perenna and SergeantMazeroux were left alone together, side by side.
Mazeroux whispered:
"What did I tell you? I knew you would find out! Oh, what a man you are!The way you managed!"
He was beaming at the thought that the chief was clear of the matter andthat he had no more crows to pluck with his, Mazeroux's, superiors, whomhe revered almost as much as he did the chief. Everybody was now agreed;they were "friends all round"; and Mazeroux was choking with delight.
"They'll lock her up, eh?"
"No," said Perenna. "There's not enough 'hold' on her for them to issuea warrant."
"What!" growled Mazeroux indignantly. "Not enough hold? I hope, in anycase, that you won't let her go. She made no bones, you know, aboutattacking you! Come, Chief, polish her off, a she-devil like that!"
Don Luis remained pensive. He was thinking of the unheard-ofcoincidences, the accumulation of facts that bore down on Mme. Fauvillefrom every side. And the decisive proof which would join all thesedifferent facts together and give to the accusation the grounds which itstill lacked was one which Perenna was able to supply. This was the marksof the teeth in the apple hidden among the shrubs in the garden. To thepolice these would be as good as any fingerprint, all the more as theycould compare the marks with those on the cake of chocolate.
Nevertheless, he hesitated; and, concentrating his anxious attention, hewatched, with mingled feelings of pity and repulsion, that woman who, toall seeming, had killed her husband and her husband's son. Was he to giveher the finishing stroke? Had he the right to
play the part of judge? Andsupposing he were wrong?
* * * * *
Meantime, M. Desmalions had walked up to him and, while pretending tospeak to Mazeroux, was really asking Perenna:
"What do you think of it?"
Mazeroux shook his head. Perenna replied:
"I think, Monsieur le Prefet, that, if this woman is guilty, she isdefending herself, for all her cleverness, with inconceivable lackof skill."
"Meaning--?"
"Meaning that she was doubtless only a tool in the hands of anaccomplice."
"An accomplice?"
"Remember, Monsieur le Prefet, her husband's exclamation in your officeyesterday: 'Oh, the scoundrels! the scoundrels!' There is, therefore, atleast one accomplice, who perhaps is the same as the man who was present,as Sergeant Mazeroux must have told you, in the Cafe du Pont-Neuf whenInspector Verot was last there: a man with a reddish-brown beard,carrying an ebony walking-stick with a silver handle. So that--"
"So that," said M. Desmalions, completing the sentence, "by arrestingMme. Fauville to-day, merely on suspicion, we have a chance of laying ourhands on the accomplice."
Perenna did not reply. The Prefect continued, thoughtfully:
"Arrest her ... arrest her.... We should need a proof for that.... Didyou receive no clue?"
"None at all, Monsieur le Prefet. True, my search was only summary."
"But ours was most minute. We have been through every corner ofthe room."
"And the garden, Monsieur le Prefet?"
"The garden also."
"With the same care?"
"Perhaps not.... But I think--"
"I think, on the contrary, Monsieur le Prefet, that, as the murdererspassed through the garden in coming and going, there might be a chance--"
"Mazeroux," said M. Desmalions, "go outside and make a more thoroughinspection."
The sergeant went out. Perenna, who was once more standing at one side,heard the Prefect of Police repeating to the examining magistrate:
"Ah, if we only had a proof, just one! The woman is evidently guilty. Thepresumption against her is too great! ... And then there are CosmoMornington's millions.... But, on the other hand, look at her ... look atall the honesty in that pretty face of hers, look at all the sincerity ofher grief."
She was still crying, with fitful sobs and starts of indignant protestthat made her clench her fists. At one moment she took her tear-soakedhandkerchief, bit it with her teeth and tore it, after the manner ofcertain actresses.
Perenna saw those beautiful white teeth, a little wide, moist andgleaming, rending the dainty cambric. And he thought of the marks ofteeth on the apple. And he was seized with an extreme longing to know thetruth. Was it the same pair of jaws that had left its impress in the pulpof the fruit?
Mazeroux returned. M. Desmalions moved briskly toward the sergeant, whoshowed him the apple which he had found under the ivy. And Perenna atonce realized the supreme importance which the Prefect of Police attachedto Mazeroux's explanations and to his unexpected discovery.
A conversation of some length took place between the magistrates andended in the decision which Don Luis foresaw. M. Desmalions walkedacross the room to Mme. Fauville. It was the catastrophe. He reflectedfor a second on the manner in which he should open this final contest,and then he asked:
"Are you still unable, Madame, to tell us how you employed your timelast night?"
She made an effort and whispered:
"Yes, yes.... I took a taxi and drove about. ... I also walked alittle--"
"That is a fact which we can easily verify when we have found thedriver of the taxi. Meanwhile, there is an opportunity of removing thesomewhat ... grievous impression which your silence has left on ourminds."
"I am quite ready--"
"It is this: the person or one of the persons who took part in thecrime appears to have bitten into an apple which was afterward thrownaway in the garden and which has just been found. To put an end to anysuppositions concerning yourself, we should like you to perform thesame action."
"Oh, certainly!" she cried, eagerly. "If this is all you need toconvince you--"
She took one of the three apples which Desmalions handed her from thedish and lifted it to her mouth.
It was a decisive act. If the two marks resembled each other, the proofexisted, assured and undeniable.
Before completing her movement, she stopped short, as though seized witha sudden fear.... Fear of what? Fear of the monstrous chance that mightbe her undoing? Or fear rather of the dread weapon which she was about todeliver against herself? In any case nothing accused her with greaterdirectness than this last hesitation, which was incomprehensible if shewas innocent, but clear as day if she was guilty!
"What are you afraid of, Madame?" asked M. Desmalions.
"Nothing, nothing," she said, shuddering. "I don't know.... I am afraidof everything.... It is all so horrible--"
"But, Madame, I assure you that what we are asking of you has no sort ofimportance and, I am persuaded, can only have a fortunate result for you.If you don't mind, therefore--"
She raised her hand higher and yet higher, with a slowness that betrayedher uneasiness. And really, in the fashion in which things werehappening, the scene was marked by a certain solemnity and tragedy thatwrung every heart.
"And, if I refuse?" she asked, suddenly.
"You are absolutely entitled to refuse," said the Prefect of Police. "Butis it worth while, Madame? I am sure that your counsel would be the firstto advise you--"
"My counsel?" she stammered, understanding the formidable meaningconveyed by that reply.
And, suddenly, with a fierce resolve and the almost ferocious air thatcontorts the face when great dangers threaten, she made the movementwhich they were pressing her to make. She opened her mouth. They sawthe gleam of the white teeth. At one bite, the white teeth dug intothe fruit.
"There you are, Monsieur," she said.
M. Desmalions turned to the examining magistrate.
"Have you the apple found in the garden?"
"Here, Monsieur le Prefet."
M. Desmalions put the two apples side by side.
And those who crowded round him, anxiously looking on, all uttered oneexclamation.
The two marks of teeth were identical.
Identical! Certainly, before declaring the identity of every detail, theabsolute analogy of the marks of each tooth, they must wait for theresults of the expert's report. But there was one thing which there wasno mistaking and that was the complete similarity of the two curves.
In either fruit the rounded arch was bent according to the sameinflection. The two semicircles could have fitted one into the other,both very narrow, both a little long-shaped and oval and of a restrictedradius which was the very character of the jaw.
The men did not speak a word. M. Desmalions raised his head. Mme.Fauville did not move, stood livid and mad with terror. But all thesentiments of terror, stupor and indignation that she might simulate withher mobile face and her immense gifts as an actress, did not prevailagainst the compelling proof that presented itself to every eye.
The two imprints were identical! The same teeth had bitten intoboth apples!
"Madame--" the Prefect of Police began.
"No, no," she cried, seized with a fit of fury, "no, it's nottrue.... This is all just a nightmare.... No, you are never going toarrest me? I in prison! Why, it's horrible!... What have I done? Oh, Iswear that you are mistaken--"
She took her head between her hands.
"Oh, my brain is throbbing as if it would burst! What does all this mean?I have done no wrong.... I knew nothing. It was you who told me thismorning.... Could I have suspected? My poor husband ... and that dearEdmond who loved me ... and whom I loved! Why should I have killed them?Tell me that! Why don't you answer?" she demanded. "People don't commitmurder without a motive.... Well?... Well?... Answer me, can't you?"
And once more convulsed with anger, standing in an ag
gressiveattitude, with her clenched hands outstretched at the group ofmagistrates, she screamed:
"You're no better than butchers ... you have no right to torture a womanlike this.... Oh, how horrible! To accuse me ... to arrest me ... fornothing! ... Oh, it's abominable! ... What butchers you all are! ... Andit's you in particular," addressing Perenna, "it's you--yes, I know--it'syou who are the enemy.
"Oh, I understand! You had your reasons, you were here lastnight.... Then why don't they arrest you? Why not you, as you werehere and I was not and know nothing, absolutely nothing of whathappened.... Why isn't it you?"
The last words were pronounced in a hardly intelligible fashion. She hadno strength left. She had to sit down, with her head bent over her knees,and she wept once more, abundantly.
Perenna went up to her and, raising her forehead and uncovering thetear-stained face, said:
"The imprints of teeth in both apples are absolutely identical. There istherefore no doubt whatever but that the first comes from you as well asthe second."
"No!" she said.
"Yes," he affirmed. "That is a fact which it is materially impossible todeny. But the first impression may have been left by you before lastnight, that is to say, you may have bitten that apple yesterday, forinstance--"
She stammered:
"Do you think so? Yes, perhaps, I seem to remember--yesterday morning--"
But the Prefect of Police interrupted her.
"It is useless, Madame; I have just questioned your servant, Silvestre.He bought the fruit himself at eight o'clock last evening. When M.Fauville went to bed, there were four apples in the dish. At eighto'clock this morning there were only three. Therefore the one found inthe garden is incontestably the fourth; and this fourth apple was markedlast night. And the mark is the mark of your teeth."
She stammered:
"It was not I ... it was not I ... that mark is not mine."
"But--"
"That mark is not mine.... I swear it as I hope to be saved.... And Ialso swear that I shall die, yes, die.... I prefer death to prison.... Ishall kill myself.... I shall kill myself--"
Her eyes were staring before her. She stiffened her muscles and made asupreme effort to rise from her chair. But, once on her feet, shetottered and fell fainting on the floor.
While she was being seen to, Mazeroux beckoned to Don Luis and whispered:
"Clear out, Chief."
"Ah, so the orders are revoked? I'm free?"
"Chief, take a look at the beggar who came in ten minutes ago and who'stalking to the Prefect. Do you know him?"
"Hang it all!" said Perenna, after glancing at a large red-faced man whodid not take his eyes off him. "Hang it, it's Weber, the deputy chief!"
"And he's recognized you, Chief! He recognized Lupin at first sight.There's no fake that he can't see through. He's got the knack of it.Well, Chief, just think of all the tricks you've played on him and askyourself if he'll stick at anything to have his revenge!"
"And you think he has told the Prefect?"
"Of course he has; and the Prefect has ordered my mates to keep you inview. If you make the least show of trying to escape them, they'llcollar you."
"In that case, there's nothing to be done?"
"Nothing to be done? Why, it's a question of putting them off your scentand mighty quickly!"
"What good would that do me, as I'm going home and they know where Ilive?"
"Eh, what? Can you have the cheek to go home after what's happened?"
"Where do you expect me to sleep? Under the bridges?"
"But, dash it all, don't you understand that, after this job, there willbe the most infernal stir, that you're compromised up to the neck as itis, and that everybody will turn against you?"
"Well?"
"Drop the business."
"And the murderers of Cosmo Mornington and the Fauvilles?"
"The police will see to that."
"Alexandre, you're an ass."
"Then become Lupin again, the invisible, impregnable Lupin, and do yourown fighting, as you used to. But in Heaven's name don't remain Perenna!It is too dangerous. And don't occupy yourself officially with a businessin which you are not interested."
"The things you say, Alexandre! I am interested in it to the tune of ahundred millions. If Perenna does not stick to his post, the hundredmillions will be snatched from under his nose. And, on the one occasionwhen I can earn a few honest centimes, that would be most annoying."
"And, if they arrest you?"
"No go! I'm dead!"
"Lupin is dead. But Perenna is alive."
"As they haven't arrested me to-day, I'm easy in my mind."
"It's only put off. And the orders are strict from this moment onward.They mean to surround your house and to keep watch day and night."
"Capital. I always was frightened at night."
"But, good Lord! what are you hoping for?"
"I hope for nothing, Alexandre. I am sure. I am sure now that they willnot dare arrest me."
"Do you imagine that Weber will stand on ceremony?"
"I don't care a hang about Weber. Without orders, Weber can do nothing."
"But they'll give him his orders."
"The order to shadow me, yes; to arrest me, no. The Prefect of Police hascommitted himself about me to such an extent that he will be obliged toback me up. And then there's this: the whole affair is so absurd, socomplicated, that you people will never find your way out of it alone.Sooner or later, you will come and fetch me. For there is no one butmyself able to fight such adversaries as these: not you nor Weber, norany of your pals at the detective office. I shall expect your visit,Alexandre."
On the next day an expert examination identified the tooth prints on thetwo apples and likewise established the fact that the print on the cakeof chocolate was similar to the others.
Also, the driver of a taxicab came and gave evidence that a lady engagedhim as she left the opera, told him to drive her straight to the end ofthe Avenue Henri Martin, and left the cab on reaching that spot.
Now the end of the Avenue Henri Martin was within five minutes' walk ofthe Fauvilles' house.
The man was brought into Mme. Fauville's presence and recognizedher at once.
What had she done in that neighbourhood for over an hour?
Marie Fauville was taken to the central lockup, was entered on theregister, and slept, that night, at the Saint-Lazare prison.
That same day, when the reporters were beginning to publish details ofthe investigation, such as the discovery of the tooth prints, but whenthey did not yet know to whom to attribute them, two of the leadingdailies used as a headline for their article the very words which DonLuis Perenna had employed to describe the marks on the apple, thesinister words which so well suggested the fierce, savage, and so tospeak, brutal character of the incident:
"THE TEETH OF THE TIGER."