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diff --git a/34058-h/34058-h.htm b/34058-h/34058-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3781f9a --- /dev/null +++ b/34058-h/34058-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9324 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Crime of the Boulevard, by Jules Claretie. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6,center { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + text-indent: 0em; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +.hangindent { + text-indent: -2em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.hr2 +{ + width: 90%; + max-width: 32em; + color: white; + background-color: white; + border: none; + border-bottom: 6px double black; + margin: 2em auto; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: smaller; +} + +.center {text-align: center; +} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +div.tnote { + border-style: dotted; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding: 1em; + font-style: normal; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: justify; + background-color: #f6f2f2; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crime of the Boulevard, by Jules Claretie + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Crime of the Boulevard + +Author: Jules Claretie + +Translator: Mrs. Carlton A. Kingsbury + +Release Date: October 11, 2010 [EBook #34058] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF THE BOULEVARD *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Ernest Schaal, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1><i>The Crime of<br /> +The Boulevard</i></h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 30px;"> +<img src="images/decloration.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<h3>By JULES CLARETIE</h3> + +<p class="center">Member of the French Academy</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 30px;"> +<img src="images/decloration.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">Translated by +MRS. CARLTON A. KINGSBURY</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 30px;"> +<img src="images/decloration.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">R. F. FENNO & COMPANY</p> + +<p class="center">Eighteen East Seventeenth Street:: NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p class="center">Copyright, 1897</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">by</span></p> + +<p class="center">R. F. FENNO & COMPANY</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<h1>The Crime of the Boulevard</h1> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 3]</span></p> + +<h2>THE +CRIME OF THE BOULEVARD.</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Where</span> does Bernardet live?"</p> + +<p>"At the passage to the right—Yes, that house +which you see with the grating and the garden behind +it."</p> + +<p>The man to whom a passer-by had given this information +hurried away in the direction pointed +out; although gasping for breath, he tried to run, +in order to more quickly reach the little house at +the end of the passage of the Elysée des Beaux +Arts. This passage, a sort of cul-de-sac, on either +side of which were black buildings, strange old +houses, and dilapidated storehouses, opened upon +a boulevard filled with life and movement; with +people promenading; with the noise of tramways; +with gaiety and light.</p> + +<p>The man wore the dress and had the bearing of +a workman. He was very short, very fat, and his +bald head was bared to the warm October rain. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 4]</span> +He was a workman, in truth, who labored in his +concierge lodge, making over and mending garments +for his neighbors, while his wife looked after +the house, swept the staircases, and complained of +her lot.</p> + +<p>Mme. Moniche found life hard and disagreeable, +and regretted that it had not given her what it +promised when, at eighteen, and very pretty, she +had expected something better than to watch beside +a tailor bent over his work in a concierge's +lodge. Into her life a tragedy had suddenly precipitated +itself, and Mme. Moniche found, that day, +something to brighten up her afternoon. Entering +a moment before, the apartment occupied by M. +Rovère, she had found her lodger lying on his +back, his eyes fixed, his arms flung out, with a +gash across his throat!</p> + +<p>M. Rovère had lived alone in the house for many +years, receiving a few mysterious persons. Mme. +Moniche looked after his apartment, entering by +using her own key whenever it was necessary; and +her lodger had given her permission to come there +at any time to read the daily papers.</p> + +<p>Mme. Moniche hurried down the stairs.</p> + +<p>"M. Rovère is dead! M. Rovère has been murdered! +His throat has been cut! He has been +assassinated!" And, pushing her husband out of +the door, she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"The police! Go for the police!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 5]</span> +This word "police" awakened in the tailor's +mind, not the thought of the neighboring Commissary, +but the thought of the man to whom he felt +that he ought to appeal, whom he ought to consult. +This man was the good little M. Bernardet, who +passed for a man of genius of his kind, at the +Sureté, and for whom Moniche had often repaired +coats and rehemmed trousers.</p> + +<p>From the mansion in the Boulevard de Clichy, +where Moniche lived, to M. Bernardet's house, was +but a short distance, and the concierge knew the +way very well, as he had often been there. But +the poor man was so stupefied, so overwhelmed, by +the sudden appearance of his wife in his room, by +the brutal revelation which came to him as the +blow of a fist, by the horrible manner of M. Rovère's +death, that he lost his head. Horrified, +breathless, he asked the first passer-by where Bernardet +lived, and he ran as fast as he could in the +direction pointed out.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the grating, the worthy man, a little +confused, stopped short. He was very strongly +moved. It seemed to him that he had been cast +into the agony of a horrible nightmare. An assassination +in the house! A murder in the Boulevard +de Clichy in broad daylight, just over his head, +while he was quietly repairing a vest!</p> + +<p>He stood looking at the house without ringing. +M. Bernardet was, no doubt, breakfasting with his +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 6]</span> +family, for it was Sunday, and the police officer, +meeting Moniche the evening before, had said to +him: "To-morrow is my birthday."</p> + +<p>Moniche hesitated a moment, then he rang the +bell. He was not kept waiting; the sudden opening +of the grating startled him; he pushed back +the door and entered. He crossed a little court, at +the end of which was a pavilion; he mounted the +three steps and was met on the threshold by a little +woman, as rosy and fresh as an apple, who, napkin +in hand, gayly saluted him.</p> + +<p>"Eh, Monsieur Moniche!"</p> + +<p>It was Mme. Bernardet, a Burgundian woman, +about thirty-five years of age, trim and coquettish, +who stepped back so that the tailor could enter.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, M. Moniche?"</p> + +<p>Poor Moniche rolled his frightened eyes around +and gasped out: "I must speak to M. Bernardet."</p> + +<p>"Nothing easier," said the little woman. "M. +Bernardet is in the garden. Yes, he is taking advantage +of the beautiful day; he is taking a +group"——</p> + +<p>"What group?"</p> + +<p>"You know very well, photography is his passion. +Come with me."</p> + +<p>And Mme. Bernardet pointed to the end of the +corridor, where an open door gave a glimpse of the +garden at the rear of the house. M. Bernardet, +the Inspector, had posed his three daughters with +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 7]</span> +their mother about a small table, on which coffee +had been served.</p> + +<p>"I had just gone in to get my napkin, when I +heard you ring," Mme. Bernardet said.</p> + +<p>Bernardet made a sign to Moniche not to advance. +He was as plump and as gay as his wife. +His moustache was red, his double chin smooth-shaven +and rosy, his eyes had a sharp, cunning +look, his head was round and closely cropped.</p> + +<p>The three daughters, clothed alike in Scotch +plaid, were posing in front of a photographic apparatus +which stood on a tripod. The eldest was +about twelve years of age; the youngest a child of +five. They were all three strangely alike.</p> + +<p>M. Bernardet, in honor of his birthday, was taking +a picture of his daughters. The ferret who, +from morning till night, tracked robbers and malefactors +into their hiding places, was taking his recreation +in his damp garden. The sweet idyl of +this hidden life repaid him for his unceasing investigations, +for his trouble and fatiguing man-hunts +through Paris.</p> + +<p>"There!" he said, clapping the cap over the +lens. "That is all! Go and play now, my dears. +I am at your service, Moniche."</p> + +<p>He shut up his photographic apparatus, pulling +out the tripod from the deep soil in which it was +imbedded, while his daughters joyously ran to their +mother. The young girls stood gazing at Moniche +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 8]</span> +with their great blue eyes, piercing and clear. +Bernardet turned to look at him, and at once +divined that something had happened.</p> + +<p>"You are as white as your handkerchief, +Moniche," he said.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Monsieur Bernardet! It is enough to terrify +one! There has been a murder in the house."</p> + +<p>"A murder?"</p> + +<p>His face, which had been so gay and careless, +suddenly took on a strange expression, at once +tense and serious; the large blue eyes shone as +with an inward fire.</p> + +<p>"A murder, yes, Monsieur Bernardet. M. Rovère—you +did not know him?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"He was an original—a recluse. And now he +has been assassinated. My wife went to his room +to read the papers"——</p> + +<p>Bernardet interrupted him brusquely:</p> + +<p>"When did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! <i>Dame!</i> Monsieur, I do not know. All I +know is my wife found the body still warm. She +was not afraid; she touched it."</p> + +<p>"Still warm!"</p> + +<p>These words struck Bernardet. He reflected a +moment, then he said:</p> + +<p>"Come; let us go to your house."</p> + +<p>Then, struck with a sudden idea, he added: +"Yes, I will take it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 9]</span> +He unfastened his camera from the tripod. "I +have three plates left which I can use," he said.</p> + +<p>Mme. Bernardet, who was standing at a little +distance, with the children clinging to her skirts, +perceived that the concierge had brought important +news. Bernardet's smiling face had suddenly +changed; the expression became serious, his glance +fixed and keen.</p> + +<p>"Art thou going with him?" Mme. Bernardet +asked, as she saw her husband buckle on a leather +bandolier.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he answered.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Mon Dieu! my poor Sunday, and this +evening—can we not go to the little theatre at +Montmartre this evening?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," he replied.</p> + +<p>"You promised! The poor children! You +promised to take them to see Closerie des Genets!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell; I do not know—I will see," the +little man said. "My dear Moniche, to-day is my +fortieth birthday. I promised to take them to the +theatre—but I must go with you." Turning to his +wife, he added: "But I will come back as soon as +I can. Come, Moniche, let us hasten to your M. +Rovère."</p> + +<p>He kissed his wife on the forehead, and each little +girl on both cheeks, and, strapping the camera in the +bandolier, he went out, followed by the tailor. As +they walked quickly along Moniche kept repeating: +"Still warm; yes, Monsieur Bernardet, still warm!"</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 10]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bernardet</span> was quite an original character. +Among the agents, some of whom were very odd, +and among the devoted subalterns, this little man, +with his singular mind, with his insatiable curiosity, +reading anything he could lay his hands on, +passed for a literary person. His chief sometimes +laughingly said to him:</p> + +<p>"Bernardet, take care! You have literary +ambitions. You will begin to dream of writing +for the papers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Monsieur Morel—but what would you?—I +am simply amusing myself."</p> + +<p>This was true. Bernardet was a born hunter. +With a superior education, he might have become a +savant, a frequenter of libraries, passing his life in +working on documents and in deciphering manuscripts. +The son of a dairyman; brought up in a +Lancastrian school; reading with avidity all the +daily papers; attracted by everything mysterious +which happened in Paris; having accomplished his +military duty, he applied for admission to the +Police Bureau, as he would have embarked for the +New World, for Mexico, or for Tonquin, in order +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 11]</span> +to travel in a new country. Then he married, so +that he might have, in his checkered existence, +which was dangerous and wearying,—a haven of +rest, a fireside of peaceful joy.</p> + +<p>So he lived a double life—tracking malefactors +like a bloodhound, and cultivating his little garden. +There he devoured old books, for which he had paid +a few sous at some book stall; he read and pasted +in old, odd leaves, re-bound them himself, and cut +clippings from papers. He filled his round, bald +head with a mass of facts which he investigated, +classified, put into their proper place, to be brought +forth as occasion demanded.</p> + +<p>He was an inquisitive person, a very inquisitive +person, indeed. Curiosity filled his life. He performed +with pleasure the most fatiguing and repulsive +tasks that fall to a police officer's lot. They +satisfied the original need of his nature, and permitted +him to see everything, to hear everything, +to penetrate into the most curious mysteries. To-day, +in a dress suit with white tie, carelessly +glancing over the crowds at the opera, to discover +the thieves who took opera glasses, which they sent +to accomplices in Germany to be sold; to-morrow, +going in ragged clothes to arrest a murderer in +some cutthroat den in the Glacière.</p> + +<p>M. Bernardet had taken possession of the office +of the most powerful bankers, seized their books +and made them go away with him in a cab. He +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 12]</span> +had followed, by order, the intrigues of more than +one fine lady, who owed to him her salvation. +What if M. Bernardet had thought fit to speak? +But he never spoke, and reporters came out worsted +from any attempt at an interview with him. "An +interview is silver, but silence is gold," he was +wont to say, for he was not a fool.</p> + +<p>He had assisted at spiritual séances and attended +secret meetings of Anarchists. He had occupied +himself with occult matters, consulting the magicians +of chance, and he had at his tongue's end the +list of conspirators. He knew the true names of +the famous Greeks who shuffled cards as one +scouts about under an assumed name. The gambling +hells were all familiar to him; he knew the +churches in whose dark corners associates assembled +to talk of <i>affairs</i>, who did not wish to be seen in +beer shops nor spied upon in cabarets.</p> + +<p>Of the millions in Paris, he knew the secrets of +this whirlpool of humanity.</p> + +<p>Oh! if he had ever become prefect of police, he +would have studied his Paris, not at a distance, +looking up statistics in books, or from the windows +of a police bureau, but in the streets, in wretched +lodgings, in hovels, in the asylums of misery and +of crime. But Bernardet was not ambitious. Life +suited him very well as he found it. His good +wife had brought to him a small dower, and Bernardet, +content with this poor little fortune, found +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 13]</span> +that he had all the power he wanted—the power, +when occasion demanded, of putting his hand on +the shoulder of a former Minister and of taking a +murderer by the throat.</p> + +<p>One day a financier, threatened with imprisonment +in Mazas, pleased him very much. Bernardet +entered his office to arrest him. He did not wish +to have a row in the bank. The police officer and +banker found themselves alone, face to face, in +a very small room, a private office, with heavy +curtains and a thick carpet, which stifled all +noise.</p> + +<p>"Fifty thousand francs if you will let me +escape," said the banker.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Comte jests"——</p> + +<p>"A hundred thousand!"</p> + +<p>"The pleasantry is very great, but it is a pleasantry."</p> + +<p>Then the Count, very pale, said: "And what +if I crack your head?"</p> + +<p>"My brother officers are waiting for me," +Bernardet simply replied. "They know that our +interview does not promise to be a long one, and +this last proposition, which I wish to forget like the +others, would only aggravate, I believe, if it became +known, M. le Comte's case."</p> + +<p>Two minutes afterward the banker went out, +preceding Bernardet, who followed him with bared +head. The banker said to his employés, in an easy +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 14]</span> +tone: "Good-by for the moment, Messieurs, I will +return soon."</p> + +<p>It was also Bernardet who, visiting the Bank +Hauts-Plateaux, said to his chief: "Monsieur +Morel, something very serious is taking place +there."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Bernardet?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know, but there is a meeting of the +bank directors, and to-day, I saw two servants +carry a man in there in an invalid's chair. It was +the Baron de Cheylard."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Baron Cheylard, in his quality of ex-Senator +of the Second Empire, of ex-President of the +Council, an ex-Commissioner of Industrial Expositions, +is Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor. +Grand Cross—that is to say, that he cannot be +pursued only after a decision of the Council of the +Order. And then, you understand—if the Bank +of Hauts-Plateaux demands the presence of its +Vice-president, the Baron of Cheylard, paralyzed, +half dead"——</p> + +<p>"It means that it has need of a thunderbolt?"</p> + +<p>"The Grand Cross, Monsieur. They would +hesitate to deliver up to us the Grand Cross."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Bernardet. The bank must be +in a bad fix. And you are a very keen observer. +The mind of a literary man, Bernardet."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 15]</span> +"Oh, rather a photographic eye, Monsieur Morel. +The habit of using a kodak."</p> + +<p>Thus Bernardet passed his life in Paris. Capable +of amassing a fortune in some Tricoche Agency if +he had wished to exploit, for his own benefit, his +keen observing powers, he thought only of doing +his duty, bringing up his little girls and loving his +wife. Mme. Bernardet was amazed at the astonishing +stories which her husband often related to her, +and very proud that he was such an able man.</p> + +<p>M. Bernardet hurried toward M. Rovère's lodgings +and Moniche trotted along beside him. As +they neared the house they saw that a crowd had +begun to collect.</p> + +<p>"It is known already," Moniche said. "Since I +left they have begun"——</p> + +<p>"If I enter there," interrupted the officer, "it is +all right. You have a right to call any one you +choose to your aid. But I am not a Magistrate. +You must go for a Commissary of Police."</p> + +<p>"Oh, M. Bernardet," Moniche exclaimed. "You +are worth more than all the Commissaries put together."</p> + +<p>"That does not make it so. A Commissary is a +Commissary. Go and hunt for one."</p> + +<p>"But since you are here"——</p> + +<p>"But I am nothing. We must have a magistrate."</p> + +<p>"You are not a magistrate, then?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 16]</span> +"I am simply a police spy."</p> + +<p>Then he crossed the street.</p> + +<p>The neighbors had gathered about the door like +a swarm of flies around a honey-comb. A rumor +had spread about which brought together a crowd +animated by the morbid curiosity which is aroused +in some minds of the hint of a mystery, and attracted +by that strange magnetism which that sinister +thing, "a crime," arouses. The women talked +in shrill tones, inventing strange stories and incredible +theories. Some of the common people +hurried up to learn the news.</p> + +<p>At the moment Bernardet came up, followed by +the concierge, a coupé stopped at the door and a tall +man got out, asking:</p> + +<p>"Where is M. Morel? I wish to see M. Morel."</p> + +<p>The Chief had not yet been advised, and he was +not there. But the tall young man suddenly recognized +Bernardet, and laid hold of him, pulling +him after him through the half-open door, which +Moniche hastened to shut against the crowd.</p> + +<p>"We must call some officers," Bernardet said to +the concierge, "or the crowd will push in."</p> + +<p>Mme. Moniche was standing at the foot of the +staircase, surrounded by the lodgers, men and +women, to whom she was recounting, for the twentieth +time, the story of how she had found M. +Rovère with his throat cut.</p> + +<p>"I was going in to read the paper—the story—it +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 17]</span> +is very interesting, that story. The moment +had come when the Baron had insulted the American +colonel. M. Rovère said to me only yesterday, +poor man: 'I am anxious to find out which one +will be killed—the colonel or the baron.' He will +never know! And it is he"——</p> + +<p>"Mme. Moniche," interrupted Bernardet, "have +you any one whom you can send for a Commissary?"</p> + +<p>"Any one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," added Moniche. "M. Bernardet needs a +magistrate. It is not difficult to understand."</p> + +<p>"A Commissary?" repeated Mme. Moniche. +"That is so. A Commissary; and what if I go for +the Commissary myself, M. Bernardet?"</p> + +<p>"All right, provided you do not let the crowd +take the house by assault when you open the door."</p> + +<p>"Fear nothing," the woman said, happy in having +something important to do, in relating the horrible +news to the Commissary how, when she was +about to enter the room for the purpose of reading, +the——</p> + +<p>While she was going toward the door Bernardet +slowly mounted the two flights of stairs, followed +by Moniche and the tall young man who had arrived +in his coupé at a gallop, in order to get the +first news of the murder and make a "scoop" for +his paper.</p> + +<p>The news had traveled fast, and his paper had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 18]</span> +sent him in haste to get all the details of the affair +which could be obtained.</p> + +<p>The three men reached M. Rovère's door. Moniche +unlocked it and stepped back, Bernardet, with +the reporter at his heels, note book in hand, entered +the room.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 19]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nothing</span> in the ante-chamber indicated that a +tragedy had taken place there. There were pictures +on the walls, pieces of faïence, some arms of +rare kinds, Japanese swords and a Malay creese. +Bernardet glanced at them as he passed by.</p> + +<p>"He is in the salon," said the concierge, in a low +tone.</p> + +<p>One of the folding doors stood open, and, stopping +on the threshold, in order to take in the entire +aspect of the place, Bernardet saw in the centre of +the room, lying on the floor in a pool of blood, the +body of M. Rovère, clothed in a long, blue dressing +gown, bound at the waist with a heavy cord, which +lay in coils on the floor, like a serpent. The corpse +was extended between the two windows, which +opened on the Boulevard de Clichy, and Bernardet's +first thought was that it was a miracle that +the victim could have met his death in such a +horrible manner, two steps from the passers-by on +the street.</p> + +<p>"Whoever struck the blow did it quickly," +thought the police officer. He advanced softly +toward the body, casting his eye upon the inert +mass and taking in at a glance the smallest objects +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 20]</span> +near it and the most minute details. He bent over +and studied it thoroughly.</p> + +<p>M. Rovère seemed living in his tragic pose. The +pale face, with its pointed and well-trimmed gray +beard, expressed in its fierce immobility a sort of +menacing anger. This man of about fifty years +had evidently died cursing some one in his supreme +agony. The frightful wound seemed like a large +red cravat, which harmonized strangely with the +half-whitened beard, the end of which was wet with +blood.</p> + +<p>But what struck Bernardet above everything +else, arrested his attention, and glued him to the +spot, was the look, the extraordinary expression +in the eyes. The mouth was open, as if to cry out, +the eyes seemed to menace some one, and the lips +about to speak.</p> + +<p>They were frightful. Those tragic eyes were +wide open, as if transfixed by fear or fury.</p> + +<p>They seemed fathomless, staring, ready to start +from their sockets. The eyebrows above them +were black and bristling. They seemed living eyes +in that dead face. They told of a final struggle, +of some atrocious duel of looks and of words. +They appeared, in their ferocious immobility, as +when they gazed upon the murderer, eye to eye, +face to face.</p> + +<p>Bernardet looked at the hands.</p> + +<p>They were contracted and seemed, in some obstinate +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 21]</span> +resistance, to have clung to the neck or the +clothing of the assassin.</p> + +<p>"There ought to be blood under the nails, since +he made a struggle," said Bernardet, thinking aloud.</p> + +<p>And Paul Rodier, the reporter, hurriedly wrote, +"There was blood under the nails."</p> + +<p>Bernardet returned again and again to the eyes—those +wide-open eyes, frightful, terrible eyes, +which, in their fierce depths, retained without +doubt the image or phantom of some nightmare of +death.</p> + +<p>He touched the dead man's hand. The flesh +had become cold and <i>rigor mortis</i> was beginning to +set in.</p> + +<p>The reporter saw the little man take from his +pocket a sort of rusty silver ribbon and unroll it, +and heard him ask Moniche to take hold of one end +of it; this ribbon or thread looked to Paul Rodier +like brass wire. Bernardet prepared his kodak.</p> + +<p>"Above everything else," murmured Bernardet, +"let us preserve the expression of those eyes."</p> + +<p>"Close the shutters. The darkness will be more +complete."</p> + +<p>The reporter assisted Moniche in order to hasten +the work. The shutters closed, the room was quite +dark, and Bernardet began his task. Counting off +a few steps, he selected the best place from which +to take the picture.</p> + +<p>"Be kind enough to light the end of the magnesium +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 22]</span> +wire," he said to the concierge. "Have you +any matches?"</p> + +<p>"No, M. Bernardet."</p> + +<p>The police office indicated by a sign of the head, +a match safe which he had noticed on entering the +room.</p> + +<p>"There are some there."</p> + +<p>Bernardet had with one sweeping glance of the +eye taken in everything in the room; the fauteuils, +scarcely moved from their places; the pictures +hanging on the walls; the mirrors; the bookcases; +the cabinets, etc.</p> + +<p>Moniche went to the mantelpiece and took a +match from the box. It was M. Rovère himself +who furnished the light by which a picture of his +own body was taken.</p> + +<p>"We could obtain no picture in this room without +the magnesium wire," said the agent, as calm +while taking a photograph of the murdered man, +as he had been a short time ago in his garden. +"The light is insufficient. When I say: 'Go!' +Moniche you must light the wire, and I will take +three or four negatives. Do you understand? +Stand there to my left. Now! Attention!"</p> + +<p>Bernardet took his position and the porter stood +ready, match and wire in hand, like a gunner who +awaits the order to fire.</p> + +<p>"Go!" said the agent.</p> + +<p>A rapid, clear flame shot up; and suddenly +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 23]</span> +lighted the room. The pale face seemed livid, the +various objects in the room took on a fantastic appearance, +in this sort of tempestuous apotheosis, +and Paul Rodier hastily inscribed on his writing +pad: "Picturesque—bizarre—marvelous—devilish—suggestive."</p> + +<p>"Let us try it again," said M. Bernardet.</p> + +<p>For the third time in this weird light the visage +of the dead man appeared, whiter, more sinister, +frightful; the wound deeper, the gash redder; and +the eyes, those wide-open, fixed, tragic, menacing, +speaking eyes—eyes filled with scorn, with hate, +with terror, with the ferocious resistance of a last +struggle for life; immovable, eloquent—seemed +under the fantastic light to glitter, to be alive, to +menace some one.</p> + +<p>"That is all," said Bernardet, very softly. "If +with these three negatives"——</p> + +<p>He stopped to look around toward the door, which +was closed. Someone was raining ringing blows +on the door, loud and imperative.</p> + +<p>"It is the Commissary; open the door, Moniche."</p> + +<p>The reporter was busy taking notes, describing +the salon, sketching it, drawing a plan for his journal.</p> + +<p>It was, in fact, the Commissary, who was followed +by Mme. Moniche and a number of curious +persons who had forced their way in when the +front door was opened.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 24]</span> +The Commissary, before entering, took a comprehensive +survey of the room, and said in a short +tone: "Every one must go out. Madame, make +all these people go out. No one must enter."</p> + +<p>There arose an uproar—each one tried to explain +his right to be there. They were all possessed +with an irresistible desire to assist at this sinister +investigation.</p> + +<p>"But we belong to the press!"</p> + +<p>"The reporters may enter when they have +showed their cards," the Commissary replied. +"The others—no!" There was a murmur from +the crowd.</p> + +<p>"The others—no!" repeated the Commissary. +He made a sign to two officers who accompanied +him, and they demanded the reporters' cards of +identification. The concourse of curious ones rebelled, +protested, growled and declaimed against +the representatives of the press, who took precedence +everywhere.</p> + +<p>"The Fourth Power!" shouted an old man from +the foot of the staircase. He lived in the house +and passed for a correspondent of the Institute. +He shouted furiously: "When a crime is committed +under my very roof, I am not even allowed +to write an account of it, and strangers, because +they are reporters, can have the exclusive privilege +of writing it up!"</p> + +<p>The Commissary did not listen to him, but those +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 25]</span> +who were his fellow-sufferers applauded him to the +echo. The Commissary shrugged his shoulders at +the hand-clappings.</p> + +<p>"It is but right," he said to the reporter, "that +the agents of the press should be admitted in preference +to any one else. Do you think that it is +easy to discover a criminal? I have been a journalist, +too. Yes, at times. In the Quartier, occasionally. +I have even written a piece for the +theatre. But we will not talk of that. Enter! +Enter, I beg of you—and we shall see"—and elegant, +amiable, polished, smiling, he looked toward +M. Bernardet, and his eyes asked the question: +"Where is it?"</p> + +<p>"Here! M. le Commissaire."</p> + +<p>Bernardet stood respectfully in front of his superior +officer, as a soldier carrying arms, and the +Commissary, in his turn, approached the body, +while the curious ones, quietly kept back by Moniche, +formed a half circle around the pale and +bloody corpse. The Commissary, like Bernardet, +was struck by the haughty expression of that livid +face.</p> + +<p>"Poor man!" he said, shaking his head. "He +is superb! superb! He reminds me of the dead +Duke de Guise, in Paul Delaroche's picture. I +have seen it also at Chantilly, in Gérôme's celebrated +picture of <i>Le Duel de Pierrot</i>."</p> + +<p>Possibly in speaking aloud his thoughts, the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 26]</span> +Commissary was talking so that the reporters +might hear him. They stood, notebooks in hand, +taking notes, and Paul Rodier, catching the names, +wrote rapidly in his book: "M. Desbrière, the +learned Commissary, so artistic, so well disposed +toward the press, was at one time a journalist. He +noticed that the victim's pale face, with its strong +personal characteristics, resembled the dead Duke +de Guise, in Gérôme's celebrated picture, which +hangs in the galleries at Chantilly."</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 27]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">M. Desbrière</span> now began the investigation. He +questioned the porter and portress, while he studied +the salon in detail. Bernardet roamed about, examining +at very close range each and every object +in the room, as a dog sniffs and scents about for a +trail.</p> + +<p>"What kind of a man was your lodger?" was +the first question.</p> + +<p>Moniche replied in a tone which showed that he +felt that his tenant had been accused of something.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Monsieur le Commissaire, a very worthy +man, I swear it!"</p> + +<p>"The best man in the world," added his wife, +wiping her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am not inquiring about his moral qualities," +M. Desbrière said. "What I want to know is, how +did he live and whom did he receive?"</p> + +<p>"Few people. Very few," the porter answered. +"The poor man liked solitude. He lived here +eight years. He received a few friends, but, I repeat, +a very small number."</p> + +<p>M. Rovère had rented the apartment in 1888, he +installed himself in his rooms, with his pictures +and books. The porter was much astonished at +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 28]</span> +the number of pictures and volumes which the +new lodger brought. It took a long time to settle, +as M. Rovère was very fastidious and personally +superintended the hanging of his canvases and the +placing of his books. He thought that he must +have been an artist, although he said that he was a +retired merchant. He had heard him say one day +that he had been Consul to some foreign country—Spain +or South America.</p> + +<p>He lived quite simply, although they thought +that he must be rich. Was he a miser? Not at +all. Very generous, on the contrary. But, plainly, +he shunned the world. He had chosen their apartment +because it was in a retired spot, far from the +Parisian boulevards. Four or five years before a +woman, clothed in black, had come there. A woman +who seemed still young—he had not seen her +face, which was covered with a heavy black veil—she +had visited M. Rovère quite often. He always +accompanied her respectfully to the door when she +went away. Once or twice he had gone out with +her in a carriage. No, he did not know her name. +M. Rovère's life was regulated with military precision. +He usually held himself upright—of late +sickness had bowed him somewhat; he went out +whenever he was able, going as far as the Bois and +back. Then, after breakfasting, he shut himself +up in his library and read and wrote. He passed +nearly all of his evenings at home.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 29]</span> +"He never made us wait up for him, as he never +went to the theatre," said Moniche.</p> + +<p>The malady from which he suffered, and which +puzzled the physicians, had seized him on his return +from a Summer sojourn at Aix-les-Bains for +his health. The neighbors had at once noticed the +effect produced by the cure. When he went away +he had been somewhat troubled with rheumatism, but +when he returned he was a confirmed sufferer. Since +the beginning of September he had not been out, +receiving no visits, except from his doctor, and +spending whole days in his easy chair or upon his +lounge, while Mme. Moniche read the daily papers +to him.</p> + +<p>"When I say that he saw no one," said the +porter, "I make a mistake. There was that gentleman"——</p> + +<p>And he looked at his wife.</p> + +<p>"What gentleman?"</p> + +<p>Mme. Moniche shook her head, as if he ought +not to answer.</p> + +<p>"Of whom do you speak?" repeated the Commissary, +looking at both of them.</p> + +<p>At this moment, Bernardet, standing on the +threshold of the library adjoining the salon, looked +searchingly about the room in which M. Rovère +ordinarily spent his time, and which he had probably +left to meet his fate. His ear was as quick +to hear as his eye to see, and as he heard the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 30]</span> +question he softly approached and listened for the +answer.</p> + +<p>"What gentleman? and what did he do?" asked +the Commissary, a little brusquely, for he noticed a +hesitation to reply in both Moniche and his wife.</p> + +<p>"Well, and what does this mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, Monsieur le Commissaire, it is this—perhaps +it means nothing," and the concierge went +on to tell how, one evening, a very fine gentleman, +and very polished, moreover, had come to the house +and asked to see M. Rovère; he had gone to his +apartment, and had remained a long time. It was, +he thought, about the middle of October, and Mme. +Moniche, who had gone upstairs to light the gas, +met the man as he was coming out of M. Rovère's +rooms, and had noticed at the first glance the +troubled air of the individual. (Moniche already +called the gentleman <i>the 'individual,'</i>) who was +very pale and whose eyes were red.</p> + +<p>Then, at some time or other, the individual had +made another visit to M. Rovère. More than once +the portress had tried to learn his name. Up to +this moment she had not succeeded. One day she +asked M. Rovère who it was, and he very shortly +asked her what business it was of hers. She did +not insist, but she watched the individual with a +vague doubt.</p> + +<p>"Instinct. Monsieur; my instinct told me"——</p> + +<p>"Enough," interrupted M. Desbrière; "if we had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 31]</span> +only instinct to guide us we should make some +famous blunders."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was not only by instinct, Monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Ah! ah! let us hear it"——</p> + +<p>Bernardet, with his eyes fastened upon Mme. +Moniche, did not lose a syllable of her story, which +her husband occasionally interrupted to correct her +or to complete a statement, or to add some detail. +The corpse, with mouth open and fiery, ferocious +eyes, seemed also to listen.</p> + +<p>Mme. Moniche, as we already know, entered M. +Rovère's apartment whenever she wished. She +was his landlady, his reader, his friend. Rovère +was brusque, but he was good. So it was nothing +strange when the woman, urged by curiosity, suddenly +appeared in his rooms, for him to say: "Ah, +you here? Is that you? I did not call you." An +electric bell connected the rooms with the concierge +lodge. Usually she would reply: "I thought I +heard the bell." And she would profit by the occasion +to fix up the fire, which M. Rovère, busy with +his reading or writing, had forgotten to attend to. +She was much attached to him. She did not wish +to have him suffer from the cold, and recently had +entered as often as possible, under one pretext or +another, knowing that he was ill, and desiring to +be at hand in case of need. When, one evening, +about eight days before, she had entered the room +while the visitor, whom Moniche called the individual, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 32]</span> +was there, the portress had been astonished +to see the two men standing before Rovère's iron +safe, the door wide open and both looking at some +papers spread out on the desk.</p> + +<p>Rovère, with his sallow, thin face, was holding +some papers in his hand, and the other was bent +over, looking with eager eyes at—Mme. Moniche +had seen them well—some rent rolls, bills and deeds. +Perceiving Mme. Moniche, who stood hesitating on +the threshold, M. Rovère frowned, mechanically +made a move as if to gather up the scattered papers. +But the portress said, "Pardon!" and quickly withdrew. +Only—ah! only—she had time to see, to +see plainly the iron safe, the heavy doors standing +open, the keys hanging from the lock, and M. +Rovère in his dressing gown; the official papers, +yellow and blue, others bearing seals and a ribbon, +lying there before him. He seemed in a bad humor, +but said nothing. Not a word.</p> + +<p>"And the other one?"</p> + +<p>The other man was as pale as M. Rovère. He +resembled him, moreover. It was, perhaps, a relative. +Mme. Moniche had noticed the expression +with which he contemplated those papers and the +fierce glance which he cast at her when she pushed +open the door without knowing what sight awaited +her. She had gone downstairs, but she did not at +once tell her husband about what she had seen. It +was some time afterward. The individual had come +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 33]</span> +again. He remained closeted with M. Rovère for +some hours. The sick man was lying on the lounge. +The portress had heard them through the door talking +in low tones. She did not know what they +said. She could hear only a murmur. And she +had very good ears, too. But she heard only confused +sounds, not one plain word. When, however, +the visitor was going away she heard Rovère say +to him: "I ought to have told all earlier."</p> + +<p>Did the dead man possess a secret which weighed +heavily upon him, and which he shared with that +other? And the other? Who was he? Perhaps +an accomplice. Everything she had said belonged +to the Commissary of Police and to the press. She +had told her story with omissions, with timorous +looks, with sighs of doubts and useless gestures. +Bernardet listened, noting each word, the purposes +of this portress, the melodramatic gossip in certain +information in which he verified the precision—all +this was engraven on his brain, as earlier in the +day the expression of the dead man's eyes had been +reflected in the kodak.</p> + +<p>He tried to distinguish, as best he could, the undeniable +facts in this first deposition, when a woman +of the people, garrulous, indiscreet, gossiping and +zealous, has the joy of playing a rôle. He mentally +examined her story, with the interruptions which +her husband made when she accused the individual. +He stopped her with a look, placing his hand on +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 34]</span> +her arm and said: "One must wait! One does +not know. He had the appearance of a worthy +man." The woman, pointing out with a grand +gesture, the body lying upon the floor, said: "Oh, +well! And did not M. Rovère have the appearance +of a worthy man also? And did it hinder him from +coming to that?"</p> + +<p>Over Bernardet's face a mocking little smile +passed.</p> + +<p>"He always had the appearance of a worthy +man," he said, looking at the dead man, "and he +even seemed like a worthy man who looked at +rascals with courage. I am certain," slowly added +the officer, "that if one could know the last thought +in that brain which thinks no more, could see in +those unseeing eyes the last image upon which they +looked, one would learn all that need be known +about that individual of whom you speak and the +manner of his death."</p> + +<p>"Possibly he killed himself," said the Commissary.</p> + +<p>But the hypothesis of suicide was not possible, +as Bernardet remarked to him, much to the great +contempt of the reporters who were covering their +notebooks with a running handwriting and with +hieroglyphics. The wound was too deep to have +been made by the man's own hand. And, besides, +they would find the weapon with which that horrible +gash had been made, near at hand. There +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 35]</span> +was no weapon of any kind near the body. The +murderer had either carried it away with him in +his flight or he had thrown it away in some other +part of the apartment. They would soon know.</p> + +<p>They need not even wait for an autopsy to determine +that it was an assassination. "That is +evident," interrupted the Commissary; "the autopsy +will be made, however."</p> + +<p>And, with an insistence which surprised the +Commissary a little, Bernardet, in courteous tones, +evidently haunted by one particular idea, begged +and almost supplicated M. Desbrière to send for +the Attorney for the Republic, so that the corpse +could be taken as soon as possible to the Morgue.</p> + +<p>"Poor man!" exclaimed Mme. Moniche. "To +the Morgue! To the Morgue!" Bernardet calmed +her with a word.</p> + +<p>"It is necessary. It is the law. Oh, Monsieur +le Commissaire, let us do it quickly, quickly. I +will tell you why. Time will be gained—I mean +to say, saved—and the criminal found."</p> + +<p>Then, while M. Desbrière sent an officer to the +telephone office to ask for the Attorney for the Republic +to come as quickly as possible to the Boulevard +de Clichy, Mme. Moniche freed her mind to +the reporters in regard to some philosophical considerations +upon human destiny, which condemned +in so unforeseen, so odiously brutal a manner, a +good lodger, as respectable as M. Rovère, to be laid +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 36]</span> +upon a slab at the Morgue, like a thief or a vagabond—he +who went out but seldom, and who "loved +his home so much."</p> + +<p>"The everlasting antithesis of life!" replied +Paul Rodier, who made a note of his reflection.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 37]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Some</span> time passed before the arrival of the Attorney, +and through the closed Venetian blinds the +murmurs of the crowd collected below could be +heard. The Commissary wrote his report on the +corner of a table, by the light of a single candle, +and now and then asked for some detail of Bernardet, +who seemed very impatient. A heavy +silence had fallen on the room; those who a short +time before had exchanged observations in loud +tones, since the Commissary had finished with Mme. +Moniche had dropped their voices and spoke in +hushed tones, as if they were in a sick room. Suddenly +a bell rang, sending shrill notes through the +silent room. Bernardet remarked that no doubt, +the Attorney had arrived. He looked at his watch, +a simple, silver Geneva watch, but which he prized +highly—a present from his wife—and murmured:</p> + +<p>"There is yet time." It was, in fact, the Attorney +for the Republic, who came in, accompanied by +the Examining Magistrate, M. Ginory, whom criminals +called "the vise," because he pressed them so +hard when he got hold of them. M. Ginory was +in the Attorney's office when the officer had telephoned +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 38]</span> +to M. Jacquelin des Audrays, and the latter +had asked him to accompany him to the scene +of the murder. Bernardet knew them both well. +He had more than once been associated with M. +Audrays. He also knew M. Ginory as a very just, +a very good man, although he was much feared, +for, while searching for the truth of a matter he +reserved judgment of those whom he had fastened +in his vise. M. Audrays was still a young +man, slender and correct, tightly buttoned up in +his redingote, smooth-shaven, wearing eyeglasses.</p> + +<p>The red ribbon in his buttonhole seemed a little +too large, like a rosette worn there through +coquetry. M. Ginory, on the contrary, wore +clothes too large for him; his necktie was tied as +if it was a black cord; his hat was half brushed; +he was short, stout and sanguine, with his little +snub nose and his mouth, with its heavy jaws. He +seemed, beside the worldly magistrate, like a sort +of professor, or savant, or collector, who, with a +leather bag stuffed with books, seemed more fitted +to pore over some brochures or precious old volumes +than to spend his time over musty law documents. +Robust and active, with his fifty-five years, +he entered that house of crime as an expert topographist +makes a map, and who scarcely needs a +guide, even in an unknown country. He went +straight to the body, which, as we have said, lay +between the two front windows, and both he and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 39]</span> +M. Audrays stood a moment looking at it, taking +in, as had the others, all the details which might +serve to guide them in their researches. The Attorney +for the Republic asked the Commissary if +he had made his report, and the latter handed it to +him. He read it with satisfied nods of his head; +during this time Bernardet had approached M. +Ginory, saluted him and asked for a private interview +with a glance of his eye; the Examining +Magistrate understood what he meant.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Is it you, Bernardet? You wish to +speak to me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Monsieur Ginory. I beg of you to get +the body to the dissecting room for the autopsy as +soon as possible." He had quietly and almost imperceptibly +drawn the Magistrate away toward a +window, away from the reporters, who wished to +hear every word that was uttered, where he had +him quite by himself, in a corner of the room near +the library door.</p> + +<p>"There is an experiment which must be tried, +Monsieur, and it ought to tempt a man like you," +he said.</p> + +<p>Bernardet knew very well that, painstaking even +to a fault, taken with any new scientific discoveries, +with a receptive mind, eager to study and to +learn, M. Ginory would not refuse him any help +which would aid justice. Had not the Academy +of Moral and Political Sciences crowned, the year +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 40]</span> +before, M. Ginory's book on "The Duties of a +Magistrate to the Discoveries of Science?"</p> + +<p>The word "experiment" was not said in order +to frighten M. Ginory.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, Bernardet?" the +Magistrate asked. Bernardet shook his head as if +to intimate that the explanation was too long to +give him there. They were not alone. Some one +might hear them. And if a journal should publish +the strange proposition which he wished to——</p> + +<p>"Ah! Ah!" exclaimed the Examining Magistrate, +"then it is something strange, your experiment?"</p> + +<p>"Any Magistrate but you would think it wild, +unreasonable, or ridiculous, which is worse. But +you—oh! I do not say it to flatter you, Monsieur," +quickly added the police officer, seeing that the +praise troubled this man, who always shrank from +it. "I speak thus because it is the very truth, +and any one else would treat me as crack-brained. +But you—no!"</p> + +<p>M. Ginory looked curiously at the little man, +whose attitude was humble and even supplicating, +and seemed to seek a favorable response, and whose +eyes sparkled and indicated that his idea was no +common one.</p> + +<p>"What is that room there?" asked M. Ginory, +pointing to the half-open library door.</p> + +<p>"It is the study of M. Rovère—the victim"—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 41]</span>— +"Let us go in there," said M. Ginory.</p> + +<p>In this room no one could hear them; they could +speak freely. On entering, the Examining Magistrate +mechanically cast his eye over the books, +stopping at such and such a title of a rare work, +and, seating himself in a low, easy chair, covered +with Caramanie, he made a sign to the police +officer to speak. Bernardet stood, hat in hand, in +front of him.</p> + +<p>"M. le Juge," Bernardet began, "I beg your +pardon for asking you to grant me an interview. +But, allowing for the difference in our positions, +which is very great, I am, like you, a scholar; very +curious. I shall never belong to the Institute, and +you will"——</p> + +<p>"Go on, Bernardet."</p> + +<p>"And you will belong to it, M. Ginory, but I +strive also, in my lower sphere, to keep myself <i>au +courant</i> with all that is said and with all that is +written. I was in the service of the Academy +when your beautiful work was crowned, and when +the perpetual secretary spoke of those Magistrates +who knew how to unite the love of letters with a +study of justice; I thought that lower down, much +lower down on the ladder, M. le Juge, he might have +also searched for and found some men who studied +to learn and to do their best in doing their duty."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I know you, Bernardet. Your chief has +often spoken of you."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 42]</span> +"I know that M. Leriche is very good to me. +But it is not for me to boast of that. I wish only +to inspire confidence in you, because what I wish to +say to you is so strange—so very strange"——</p> + +<p>Bernardet suddenly stopped. "I know," he began, +"that if I were to say to a physician what I +am about to say to you he would think I ought to +be shut up in Sainte-Anne. And yet I am not +crazy, I beg of you to believe. No! but I have +searched and searched. It seems to me that there +is a mass of inventions, of discoveries, which we +police officers ought to make use of. And, although +I am a sub-Inspector"——</p> + +<p>"Go on! Go on!" said the Magistrate, quickly, +with a movement of the head toward the open +door of the salon, where the Attorney for the Republic +was conducting the investigation, and his +nod seemed to say: "They are at work in there—let +us make haste."</p> + +<p>"I will be as brief as possible," said Bernardet, +who understood what he meant.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," (and his tone became rapid, precise, +running up and down like a ball), "thirty years, +or, rather, to be exact, twenty-six years ago, some +American journals, not political, but scientific, +published the fact that the daguerrotype—we have +made long strides since then in photography—had +permitted them to find in the retina of a murdered +man's eye the image of the one who struck him."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 43]</span> +"Yes, I know," said M. Ginory.</p> + +<p>"In 1860, I was too young, and I had no desire +to prove the truth of this discovery. I adore +photography as I adore my profession. I pass my +leisure hours in taking instantaneous pictures, in +developing them, printing, and finishing them. +The idea of what I am about to propose to you +came to me by chance. I bought upon one of the +quays a volume of the Societé de Medicine Legale +of 1869, in which Dr. Vernois gives an account of +a communication sent to the society by a physician, +who also sent photographic proofs, thus indorsed: +'Photographs taken of the retina of a woman assassinated +the 14th of June, 1868.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes," again said M. Ginory. "It was a communication +from Dr. Bourion, of Darnez."</p> + +<p>"Precisely."</p> + +<p>"And the proof sent by the Doctor showed the +instant when, after striking the mother, the assassin +killed the child, while the dog sprang toward +the little carriage in which the little one lay."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Monsieur Ginory."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, but my poor Bernardet, Dr. Vernois, +since you have read his report"——</p> + +<p>"By chance, Monsieur, I found it on a book +stall and it has kept running in my head ever since, +over and over and over again."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Vernois, my poor fellow, made many experiments. +At first the proof sent was so confused, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 44]</span> +so hazy, that no one who had not seen what +Bourion had written could have told what it was. +If Vernois, who was a very scientific man, could +find nothing—nothing, I repeat—which justified Dr. +Bourion's declarations, what do you expect that +any one else could make of those researches? Do +not talk any more or even think any more about it."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Monsieur Ginory; one +can and ought to think about it. In any case, I +am thinking about it."</p> + +<p>A smile of doubt crossed M. Ginory's lips. +Bernardet quickly added: "Photography of the +invisible has been proven. Are not the Roentgen +Rays, the famous X Rays, as incredible as that +photography can find the image of a murderer +on the retina of a dead person's eye? They invent +some foolish things, those Americans, but +they often presage the truth. Do they not catch, +by photography, the last sighs of the dying? Do +they not fix upon the film or on plates that mysterious +thing which haunts us, the occult? They +throw bridges across unknown abysses as over +great bodies of water or from one precipice to +another, and they reach the other side. I beg +your pardon, Monsieur," and the police officer +stopped short in his enthusiastic defence as he +caught sight of M. Ginory's astonished face; +"I seem to have been making a speech, a thing I +detest."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 45]</span> +"Why do you say that to me? Because I +looked astonished at what you have told me? I +am not only surprised, I am charmed. Go on! Go +on!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! well, what seemed folly yesterday will be +an established fact to-morrow. A fact is a fact. +Dr. Vernois had better have tested again and +again his contradictory experiments. Dr. Bourion's +experiments had preceded his own. If Dr. +Vernois saw nothing in the picture taken of the +retina of the eye of the woman assassinated June +14, 1868, I have seen something—yes, I have +seen with a magnifying glass, while studying +thoroughly the proof given to the society and +reproduced in the bulletin of Volume I., No. 2, +of 1870; I have seen deciphered the image which +Dr. Bourion saw, and which Dr. Vernois did not +see. Ah! it was confused, the proof was hazy. +It was scarcely recognizable, I confess. But +there are mirrors which are not very clear and +which reflect clouded vision; nevertheless, the +image is there. And I have seen, or what +one calls seen, the phantom of the murderer +which Dr. Bourion saw, and which escaped the eyes +of the member of the Academy of Medicine and of +the Hygiene Council, Honorary Physician of the +Hospital, if you please."</p> + +<p>M. Ginory, who had listened to the officer with +curiosity, began to laugh, and remarked to Bernardet +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 46]</span> +that, according to this reasoning, illustrated +medical science would find itself sacrificed to the instinct, +the divination of a provincial physician, and +that it was only too easy to put the Academicians +in the wrong and the Independents in the right.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Monsieur, pardon; I put no one in the +right or wrong. Dr. Bourion believed that he had +made a discovery. Dr. Vernois was persuaded that +Dr. Bourion had discovered nothing at all. Each +had the courage of his conviction. What I contest +is that, for twenty-six years, no one has experimented, +no one has made any researches, since +the first experiment, and that Dr. Bourion's communication +has been simply dropped and forgotten."</p> + +<p>"I ask your pardon in my turn, Bernardet," replied +M. Ginory, a little quizzically. "I have also +studied the question, which seems to me a curious"——</p> + +<p>"Have you photographed any yourself, M. Ginory?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Ah! There is where the proof is."</p> + +<p>"But in 1877, the very learned Doyen of the +Academy of Medicine, M. Brouardel, whose great +wisdom, and whose sovereign opinion was law, one +of those men who is an honor to his country, told +me that when he was in Heidelberg he had heard +Professor Kuhne say that he had studied this same +question; he had made impressions of the retina +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 47]</span> +of the eye in the following cases: After the death +of a dog or a wolf, he had taken out the eye and replaced +it with the back part of the eye in front; +then he took a very strong light and placed it in +front of the eye and between the eye and the light +he placed a small grating. This grating, after an +exposure of a quarter of an hour, was visible upon +the retina. But those are very different experiments +from the ones one hears of in America."</p> + +<p>"They could see the bars in the grating? If that +was visible, why could not the visage of the murderer +be found there?"</p> + +<p>"Eh! Other experiments have been attempted, +even after those of which Professor Kuhne told +our compatriot. Every one, you understand, has +borne only negative results, and M. Brouardel +could tell you, better than I, that in the physiological +and oculistic treatises, published during the +last ten years, no allusion has been made to the +preservation of the image on the retina after death. +It is an <i>affair classé</i>, Bernardet."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Monsieur, yet"—and the police officer +hesitated. Shaking his head, he again repeated: +"Yet—yet!"</p> + +<p>"You are not convinced?"</p> + +<p>"No, Monsieur Ginory, and shall I tell you why? +You, yourself, in spite of the testimony of illustrious +savants, still doubt. I pray you to pardon +me, but I see it in your eyes."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 48]</span> +"That is still another way to use the retina," said +Ginory, laughing. "You read one's thoughts."</p> + +<p>"No, Monsieur, but you are a man of too great +intelligence to say to yourself that there is nothing +in this world <i>classé</i>, that every matter can be +taken up again. The idea has come to me to try +the experiment if I am permitted. Yes, Monsieur, +those eyes, did you see them, the eyes of the dead +man? They seemed to speak; they seemed to see. +Their expression is of lifelike intensity. They see, +I tell you, they see! They perceive something +which we cannot see, and which is frightful. They +bear—and no one can convince me to the contrary—they +bear on the retina the reflection of the last +being whom the murdered man saw before he died. +They keep it still, they still retain that image. +They are going to hold an autopsy; they will tell +us that the throat is cut. Eh! Parbleu! We +know it well. We see it for ourselves. Moniche, +the porter, knows it as well as any doctor. But +when one questions those eyes, when one searches +in that black chamber where the image appears as +on a plate, when one demands of those eyes their +secret, I am convinced that one will find it."</p> + +<p>"You are obstinate, Bernardet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, very obstinate, Monsieur Ginory, and very +patient. The pictures which I took with my kodak +will give us the expression, the interior, so to +speak; those which we would take of the retina +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 49]</span> +would reveal to us the secret of the agony. And, +moreover, unless I deceive myself, what danger attends +such an experiment? One opens the poor +eyes, and that is sinister, certainly, but when one +holds an autopsy at the Morgue, when one enlarges +the gash in the throat in order to study it, when +one dissects the body, is it any more respectful +or proper? Ah! Monsieur, if I but had your +power"——</p> + +<p>M. Ginory seemed quite struck with all that the +police officer had said to him, but while he still +held to his convictions, he did not seem quite averse +to trying the experiment. Who can say to science +"Halt!" and impose upon it limits which cannot +be passed? No one!</p> + +<p>"We will see, Bernardet."</p> + +<p>And in that "we will see" there was already a +half promise.</p> + +<p>"Ah! if you only will, and what would it cost +you?" added Bernardet, still urgent; indeed, almost +suppliant.</p> + +<p>"Let us finish this now. They are waiting for +me," said the Examining Magistrate.</p> + +<p>As he left M. Rovère's study, he instinctively +cast a glance at the rare volumes, with their costly +bindings, and he reentered the salon where M. +Jacquelin des Audrays had, without doubt, finished +his examination.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 50]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> attorney for the Republic called in the Examining +Magistrate. Nothing more was to be done. +The Magistrate had studied the position of the +corpse, examined the wound, and now, having told +M. Ginory his impressions, he did not hide from +him his belief that the crime had been committed +by a professional, as the stroke of the knife across +the throat had been given neatly, scientifically, according +to all the established rules.</p> + +<p>"One might well take it for the work of a professional +butcher."</p> + +<p>"Yes, without doubt, M. Ginory; but one does +not know. Brute force—a strong blow—can produce +exactly what science can."</p> + +<p>More agitated than he wished to appear by the +strange conversation between the Agent of Sureté +and himself, the Examining Magistrate stood at the +foot of the corpse and gazed, with a fixity almost +fierce, not at the gaping wound of which M. Jacquelin +des Audrays had spoken to him, but at those +eyes,—those fixed eyes, those eyes which no opacity +had yet invaded, which, open, frightful, seemingly +burning with anger, menacing, full of accusations +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 51]</span> +of some sort and animated with vengeance, gave +him a look, immovable, most powerful.</p> + +<p>It was true! it was true! They lived! those eyes +spoke. They cried to him for justice. They retained +the expression of some atrocious vision: the +expression of violent rage. They menaced some +one—who? If the picture of some one was graven +there, was it not the last image reflected on the +little mirror of the retina? What if a face was reflected +there! What if it was still retained in the +depths of those wide-open eyes! That strange +creature, Bernardet, half crazy, enthused with new +ideas, with the mysteries which traverse chimerical +brains, troubled him—Ginory, a man of statistics +and of facts.</p> + +<p>But truly those dead eyes seemed to appeal, to +speak, to designate some one. What more eloquent, +what more terrible witness could there be than the +dead man himself, if it was possible for his eyes to +speak; if that organ of life should contain, shut +up within it, preserved, the secret of death? Bernardet, +whose eyes never left the magistrate's face, +ought to have been content, for it plainly expressed +doubt, a hesitation, and the police officer heard him +cursing under his breath.</p> + +<p>"Folly! Stupidity! Bah! we shall see!"</p> + +<p>Bernardet was filled with hope. M. Ginory, the +Examining Magistrate, was, moreover, convinced +that, for the present, and the sooner the better, the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 52]</span> +corpse should be sent to the Morgue. There, only, +could a thorough and scientific examination be +made. The reporter listened intently to the conversation, +and Mme. Moniche clasped her hands, +more and more agonized by that word Morgue, +which, among the people, produces the same terror +that that other word, which means, however, careful +attendance, scientific treatment and safety,—hospital, +does.</p> + +<p>Nothing was now to be done except to question +some of the neighbors and to take a sketch of the +salon. Bernardet said to the Magistrate: "My +photograph will give you that!" While some one +went out to get a hearse, the Magistrates went +away, the police officer placed a guard in front of +the house. The crowd was constantly increasing +and becoming more and more curious, violently excited +and eager to see the spectacle—the murdered +man borne from his home.</p> + +<p>Bernardet did not allow M. Ginory to go away +without asking respectfully if he would be allowed +to photograph the dead man's eye. Without giving +him a formal answer, M. Ginory simply told +him to be present at the autopsy at the Morgue. +Evidently if the Magistrate had not been already +full of doubt his reply would have been different. +Why did that inferior officer have the audacity to +give his opinion on the subject of conducting a judicial +investigation? M. Ginory would long before +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 53]</span> +this have sent him about his business if he had +not become suddenly interested in him. In his +quality of Judge he had come to know Bernardet's +history and his exploits in the service. No more +capable man, in his line, could be found. He was +perfectly and utterly devoted to his profession. +Some strange tales were told of his methods. It +was he who once passed an entire night on a bench, +pretending intoxication, in order to gain sufficient +information to enable him to arrest a murderer in +the morning in a wretched hovel at La Vilette—a +murderer armed to the teeth. It was Bernardet +who, without arms—as all those agents—caught +the famous bandit, the noted Taureau de la +Glacière, a foreign Hercules, who had strangled his +mistress. Bernardet arrested him by holding to +his temple the cold neck of a bottle and saying, +"Hands up or I fire!" Now what the bandit took +for the cold muzzle of a pistol was a vial containing +some medicine which Bernardet had purchased +of a pharmacist for his liver.</p> + +<p>Deeds of valor against thieves, malefactors and +insurrectionists abounded in Bernardet's life; and +M. Ginory had just discovered in this man, whom +he believed simply endowed with the activity and +keenness of a hunting dog, an intelligence singularly +watchful, deep and complicated. Bernardet, +who had nothing more to do until the body should +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 54]</span> +be taken to the Morgue, left the house directly +after the Magistrates.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" asked Paul Rodier, +the reporter.</p> + +<p>"Home. A few steps from here."</p> + +<p>"May I go along with you?" asked the journalist.</p> + +<p>"To find an occasion to make me speak? But I +know nothing! I suspect nothing; I shall say +nothing!"</p> + +<p>"Do you believe that it is the work of a thief, or +revenge?"</p> + +<p>"I am certain that it was no thief. Nothing in +the apartment was touched. As for the rest, who +knows?"</p> + +<p>"M. Bernardet," laughingly said the reporter, +as he walked along by the officer's side, "you do +not wish to speak."</p> + +<p>"What good will that do?" Bernardet replied, +also laughingly; "it will not prevent you from +publishing an interview."</p> + +<p>"You think so. <i>Au revoir!</i> I must hurry and +make my copy. And you?"</p> + +<p>"I? A photograph."</p> + +<p>They separated, and Bernardet entered his house. +His daughters had grieved over his sudden departure +on Sunday on his fête day. They met him +with joyous shouts when he appeared, and threw +themselves upon him. "Papa! Here is papa!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 55]</span> +Mme. Bernardet was also happy. They could +go then to the garden and finish the picture. But +their joy subsided, night had fallen, and Bernardet, +preoccupied, wished to shut himself up so that he +might reflect on all that had happened, and perhaps +to work a little, even to-day.</p> + +<p>"It is thy fête day, Bernardet. Wilt thou not +rest to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I can rest at dinner, dear. Until then, I must +use the time reading over a mass of evidence."</p> + +<p>"Then thou wilt need a lamp?" asked Mme. +Bernardet.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear; light the lamp."</p> + +<p>Next to their bedchamber M. Bernardet had +fitted up a little room for his private use. It was +a tiny den, in which was a mahogany table loaded +with books and papers, and at which he worked +when he had time, reading, annotating, copying +from the papers, and collecting extracts for hours +at a time. No one was allowed to enter this room, +filled with old papers. Mme. Bernardet well called +it "a nest of microbes." Bernardet found pleasure +in this sporadic place, which in Summer was stifling. +In Winter he worked without a fire.</p> + +<p>Mme. Bernardet was unhappy as she saw that +their holiday was spoiled. But she very well knew +that when her husband was devoured with curiosity, +carried away by a desire to elucidate a puzzle, +there was nothing to be said. He listened to no +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 56]</span> +remonstrances, and the daughters knew that when +they asked if their father was not coming to renew +his games with them they were obliged to content +themselves with the excuse which they knew so +well from having heard it so often: "Papa is studying +out a crime!"</p> + +<p>Bernardet was anxious to read over his notes, +the verification of his hopes, of those so-called certainties +of to-day. That is why he wished to be +alone. As soon as he had closed the door he at once, +from among the enormous piles of dust-laden books +and files of old newspapers, with the unerring instinct +of the habitual searcher who rummages through +book stalls, drew forth a gray-covered pamphlet in +which he had read, with feverish astonishment, the +experiments and report of Dr. Vernois upon the +application of photography in criminal researches. +He quickly seated himself, and with trembling fingers +eagerly turned over the leaves of the book so +often read and studied, and came to the report of +the member of the Academy of Medicine; he compared +it with the proof submitted by Dr. Bourion, +of the Medical Society, in which it was stated that +the most learned savants had seen nothing.</p> + +<p>"Seen nothing, or wished to see nothing, perhaps!" +he murmured.</p> + +<p>The light fell upon the photograph which had +been sent, a long time before, to the Society, and +Bernardet set himself to study out the old crime with +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 57]</span> +the most careful attention; with the passion of a +paleographer deciphering a palimpsest. This poor +devil of a police officer, in his ardent desire to solve +the vexing problem, brought to it the same ardor +and the same faith as a bibliophile. He went over +and over with the method of an Examining Magistrate +all that old forgotten affair, and in the solitude +and silence of his little room the last reflections +of the setting sun falling on his papers and +making pale the light of his lamp, he set himself +the task of solving, like a mathematical problem, +that question which he had studied, but which he +wished to know from the very beginning, without +any doubts, before seeing M. Ginory again at the +Morgue, beside the body of M. Rovère. He took +his pamphlet and read: "The photograph sent to +the Society of Medical Jurisprudence by Dr. +Bourion taken upon the retina of the eye of a +woman who had been murdered the 14th of June, +1868, represents the moment when the assassin, +after having struck the mother, kills the infant, +and the dog belonging to the house leaps toward +the unfortunate little victim to save it."</p> + +<p>Then studying, turn by turn, the photograph +yellowed by time, and the article which described +it, Bernardet satisfied himself, and learned the history +by heart.</p> + +<p>M. Gallard, General Secretary of the Society, +after having carefully hidden the back part of the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 58]</span> +photograph, had circulated it about among the members +with this note: "Enigma of Medical Jurisprudence." +And no one had solved the tragic enigma. +Even when he had explained, no one could see in +the photograph what Dr. Bourion saw there. Some +were able on examining that strange picture to see +in the black and white haze some figures as singular +and dissimilar as those which the amiable Polonius +perceived in the clouds under the suggestion +of Hamlet.</p> + +<p>Dr. Vernois, appointed to write a report on Dr. +Bourion's communication, asked him then how the +operation had been conducted, and Dr. Bourion had +given him these details, which Bernardet was now +reading and studying: The assassination had +taken place on Sunday between noon and 4 o'clock; +the extraction of the eyes from their orbits had +not been made until the following day at 6 o'clock +in the evening.</p> + +<p>The experiment on the eyes, those terribly accusing +eyes of this dead man, could be made twenty-four +hours earlier than that other experiment. The +image—if there was any image—ought to be, in +consequence, more clearly defined than in Dr. +Bourion's experiment.</p> + +<p>"About 6 o'clock in the evening," thought Bernardet, +"and the photographic light was sufficient."</p> + +<p>Dr. Bourion had taken pictures of both of the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 59]</span> +child's eyes as well as both of the mother's eyes. +The child's eyes showed nothing but hazy clouds. +But the mother's eyes were different. Upon the +left eye, next to a circular section back of the iris, +a delicately marked image of a dog's head appeared. +On the same section of the right eye, +another picture; one could see the assassin raising +his arm to strike and the dog leaping to protect +his little charge.</p> + +<p>"With much good will, it must be confessed," +thought Bernardet, looking again and again at the +photograph, "and with much imagination, too. But +it was between fifty and fifty-two hours after the +murder that the proof was taken, while this time +it will be while the body is still warm that the experiment +will be tried."</p> + +<p>Seventeen times already had Dr. Vernois experimented +on animals; sometimes just after he +had strangled them, again when they had died from +Prussic acid. He had held in front of their eyes a +simple object which could be easily recognized. He +had taken out the eyes and hurried with them to +the photographer. He had, in order to better expose +the retina to photographic action, made a sort +of Maltese cross, by making four incisions on the +edge of the sclerotic. He removed the vitreous +humor, fixed it on a piece of card with four pins +and submitted the retina as quickly as possible to +the camera.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 60]</span> +In re-reading the learned man's report, Bernardet +studied, pored over, carefully scrutinized the text, +investigated the dozen proofs submitted to the Society +of Medical Jurisprudence by Dr. Vernois:</p> + +<p>Retina of a cat's eye killed by Prussic acid; +Vernois had held the animal in front of the bars +of the cage in which it was confined. No result!</p> + +<p>Retina of a strangled dog's eye. A watch was +held in front of its eyes. No result!</p> + +<p>Retina of a dog killed by a strangulation. A +bunch of shining keys was held in front of his eyes. +No result!</p> + +<p>Retina of the eye of a strangled dog. An eyeglass +held in front of its eyes. Photograph made +two hours after death. Nothing! In all Dr. +Vernois's experiments—nothing! Nothing!</p> + +<p>Bernardet repeated the word angrily. Still he +kept on; he read page after page. But all this +was twenty-six years ago—photography has made +great strides since then. What wonderful results +have been obtained! The skeleton of the human +body seen through the flesh! The instantaneous +photograph! The kinetoscopic views! Man's +voice registered for eternity in the phonograph! +The mysterious dragged forth into the light of +day! Many hitherto unknown secrets become +common property! The invisible, even the invisible, +the occult, placed before our eyes, as a +spectacle!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 61]</span> +"One does not know all that may be done with +a kodak," murmured Bernardet.</p> + +<p>As he ascertained, in re-reading Dr. Vernois's report +on "The Application of Photography to +Medical Jurisprudence," the savant himself, even +while denying the results of which Dr. Bourion +spoke in his communication, devoted himself to the +general consideration upon the rôle which photography +ought to play in medical jurisprudence. +Yes, in 1869, he asked that in the researches on +poisonous substances, where the microscope alone +had been used, photography should be applied. +He advocated what in our day is so common, the +photographing of the features of criminals, their +deformities, their scars, their tattooings. He demanded +that pictures should be taken of an accused +person in many ways, without wigs and with +them, with and without beards, in diverse costumes.</p> + +<p>"These propositions," thought Bernardet, "seem +hardly new; it is twenty-six years since they were +discovered, and now they seem as natural as that +two and two make four. In twenty-six years +from now, who knows what science will have +done?</p> + +<p>"Vernois demanded that wounds be reproduced, +their size, the instruments with which the crime +was committed, the leaves of plants in certain cases +of poisoning, the shape of the victim's garments, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 62]</span> +the prints of their hands and feet, the interior view +of their rooms, the signature of certain accused +affected with nervous disorders, parts of bodies and +of bones, and, in fact, everything in any way connected +with the crime. It was said that he asked +too much. Did he expect judges to make photographs? +To-day, everything that Vernois demanded +in 1869, has been done, and, in truth, the +instantaneous photograph has almost superseded +the minutes of an investigation.</p> + +<p>"We photograph a spurious bank note. It is +magnified, and, by the absence of a tiny dot the +proof of the alteration is found. On account of +the lack of a dot the forger is detected. The +savant, Helmholtz, was the discoverer of this +method of detecting these faults. Two bank notes, +one authentic, the other a forgery, were placed +side by side in a stereoscope of strong magnifying +power, when the faults were at once detected. +Helmholtz's experiment probably seemed fantastic +to the forger condemned by a stereoscope. Oh, +well, to-day ought not a like experiment on the +retina of a dead man's eye give a like result?</p> + +<p>"Instruments have been highly perfected since +the time when Dr. Bourion made his experiments, +and if the law of human physiology has not +changed the seekers of invisible causes must have +rapidly advanced in their mysterious pursuits. +Who knows whether, at the instant of the last +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 63]</span> +agony, that the dying person does not put all the +intensity of life into the retina, giving a hundredfold +power to that last supreme look?"</p> + +<p>At this point of his reflections Bernardet experienced +some hesitation. While he was not thoroughly +acquainted with physiology and philosophy, +yet he had seen so much, so many things; had +known so many strange occurrences, and had +studied many men. He knew—for he had closely +questioned wretches who had been saved from +drowning at the very last possible moment, some +of whom had attempted suicide, others who +had been almost drowned through accident, and +each one had told him that his whole life, from +his earliest recollection, had flashed through +his mind in the instant of mortal agony. Yes, +a whole lifetime in one instant of cerebral excitement!</p> + +<p>Had savants been able to solve this wonderful +mystery? The <i>resumé</i> of an existence in one vibration! +Was it possible? Yet—Bernardet still +used the word.</p> + +<p>And why, in an analogous sensation, could not +the look of a dying man be seized in an intensity +lasting an instant, as memory brought in a single +flash so many diverse remembrances?</p> + +<p>"I know, since it is the imagination, and that +the dead cannot see, while the image on the retina +is a fact, a fact contradicted by wiser men than I." +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 64]</span> +Bernardet thought on these mysteries until his +head began to ache.</p> + +<p>"I shall make myself ill over it," he thought. +"And there is something to be done."</p> + +<p>Then in his dusty little room, his brain overexcited, +he became enthused with one idea. His +surroundings fell away from him, he saw nothing—everything +disappeared—the books, the papers, +the walls, the visible objects, as did also the objections, +the denials, the demonstrative impossibilities. +And absolute conviction seized him to the exclusion +of all extraneous surroundings. This conviction +was absolute, instinctive, irresistible, powerful, +filling him with entire faith.</p> + +<p>"This unknown thing I will find. What is to be +done I will do," he declared to himself.</p> + +<p>He threw the pamphlet on the table, arose from +his chair and descended to the dining-room, where +his wife and children were waiting for him. He +rubbed his hands with glee, and his face looked +joyous.</p> + +<p>"Didst thou discover the trail?" Mme. Bernardet +asked very simply, as a working woman +would ask her husband if he had had a good day. +The eldest of the little girls rushed toward him.</p> + +<p>"Papa, my dear little papa!"</p> + +<p>"My darling!"</p> + +<p>The child asked her father in a sweet voice: +"Art thou satisfied with thy crime, papa?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 65]</span> +"We will not talk about that," Bernardet +replied. "To table! After dinner I will develop +the pictures which I have taken with my kodak, +but let us amuse ourselves now; it is my fête day; +I wish to forget all about business. Let us dine +now and be as happy as possible."</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 66]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> murder of M. Rovère, committed in broad +daylight, in a quarter of Paris filled with life and +movement, caused a widespread sensation. There +was so much mystery mixed in the affair. What +could be ascertained about the dead man's life was +very dramatically written up by Paul Rodier in a +sketch, and this, republished everywhere and enlarged +upon, soon gave to the crime of the Boulevard +de Clichy the interest of a judicial romance. +All that there was of vulgar curiosity in man +awoke, as atavistic bestiality at the smell of blood.</p> + +<p>What was this M. Rovère, former Consul to +Buenos Ayres or Havana, amateur collector of +objects of virtu, member of the Society of Bibliophiles, +where he had not been seen for a long time? +What enemy had entered his room for the purpose +of cutting his throat? Might he not have been +assassinated by some thief who knew that his rooms +contained a collection of works of art? The fête +at Montmartre was often in full blast in front of the +house where the murder had been committed, and +among the crowd of ex-prison birds and malefactors +who are always attendant upon foreign kirmesses +might not some one of them have returned and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 67]</span> +committed the crime? The papers took advantage +of the occasion to moralize upon permitting these +fêtes to be held in the outlying boulevards, where +vice and crime seemed to spring spontaneously +from the soil.</p> + +<p>But no one, not one journal—perhaps by order—spoke +of that unknown visitor whom Moniche +called <i>the individual</i>, and whom the portress had +seen standing beside M. Rovère in front of the +open safe. Paul Rodier in his sketch scarcely referred +to the fact that justice had a clew important +enough to penetrate the mystery of the crime, and +in the end arrest the murderer. And the readers +while awaiting developments asked what mystery +was hidden in this murder. Moniche at times, wore +a frightened yet important air. He felt that he +was an object of curiosity to many, the centre of +prejudices. The porter and his wife possessed a +terrible secret. They were raised in their own estimation.</p> + +<p>"We shall appear at the trial," said Moniche, +seeing himself already before the red robes, and +holding up his hand to swear that he would tell the +truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.</p> + +<p>And as they sat together in their little lodge +they talked the matter over and over, and brought +up every incident in M. Rovère's life which might +have a bearing on the case.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the young man who came +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 68]</span> +one day and insisted on seeing Monsieur le Consul?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! Very well, indeed," said Moniche. "I +had forgotten that one. A felt hat, his face bronzed, +and a droll accent. He had come from away off +somewhere. He was probably a Spaniard."</p> + +<p>"Some beggar, likely. A poor devil whom the +Consul had known in America, in the Colonies, one +knows not where."</p> + +<p>"A bad face!" said Moniche. "M. Rovère received +him, however, and gave him aid, I remember. +If the young man had come often, I should +think that he struck the blow. And also, I ought +to add, if there was not the other."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but there is the other," his wife replied. +"There is the one whom I saw standing in front of +the coupons, and who was looking at those other +papers with flashing eyes, I give my word. There +is that one, Moniche, and I am willing to put my +hand into the fire and yours, too, Moniche, if it is +not he."</p> + +<p>"If he is the one, he will be found."</p> + +<p>"Oh! but if he has disappeared? One disappears +very quickly in these days."</p> + +<p>"We shall see! we shall see! Justice reigns, +and we are here!" He said that "we are here!" +as a grenadier of the guard before an important +engagement.</p> + +<p>They had taken the body to the Morgue. At +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 69]</span> +the hour fixed for the autopsy Bernardet arrived. +He seemed much excited, and asked M. Ginory if, +since their conversation in M. Rovère's library, he +had reflected and decided to permit him to make +the experiment—the famous experiment reported +for so many years as useless, absurd, almost ridiculous.</p> + +<p>"With any one but M. Ginory I should not dare +to hope," thought the police officer, "but he does +not sneer at strange discoveries."</p> + +<p>He had brought his photographic apparatus, that +kodak which he declared was more dangerous to +the criminal than a loaded weapon. He had developed +the negatives which he had taken, and of the +three, two had come out in good condition. The +face of the murdered man appeared with a clearness +which, in the proofs, rendered it formidable as +in the reality; and the eyes, those tragic, living +eyes, retained their terrible, accusing expression +which the supreme agony had left in them. The +light had struck full on the eyes—and they spoke. +Bernardet showed the proofs to M. Ginory. They +examined them with a magnifying glass, but they +showed only the emotion, the agony, the anger of +that last moment. Bernardet hoped to convince +M. Ginory that Bourion's experiment was not a +failure.</p> + +<p>Eleven o'clock was the hour named for the autopsy. +Twenty minutes before, Bernardet was at +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 70]</span> +the Morgue. He walked restlessly about outside +among the spectators—some were women, young +girls, students, and children who were hovering +about the place, hoping that some chance would +permit them to satisfy their morbid curiosity and +to enter and gaze on those slabs whereon lay—swollen, +livid, disfigured—the bodies.</p> + +<p>Never, perhaps, in his life had the police officer +been so strongly moved with a desire to succeed. +He brought to his tragic task all the ardor of an +apostle. It was not the idea of success, the renown, +or the possibility of advancement which +urged him on; it was the joy, the glory of aiding +progress, of attaching his name to a new discovery. +He worked for art and the love of art. As he +wandered about, his sole thought was of his desire +to test Dr. Bourion's experiment; of the realization +of his dream. "Ah! if M. Ginory will only +permit it," he thought.</p> + +<p>As he formulated that hope in his mind, he saw +M. Ginory descend from the fiacre; he hurried up +to him and saluted him respectfully. Seeing Bernardet +so moved and the first one on the spot, he +could not repress a smile.</p> + +<p>"I see you are still enthused."</p> + +<p>"I have thought of nothing else all night, Monsieur +Ginory."</p> + +<p>"Well, but," said Monsieur Ginory in a tone +which seemed to Bernardet to imply hope, "no idea +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 71]</span> +must be rejected, and I do not see why we should +not try the experiment. I have reflected upon it. +Where is the unsuitableness?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Monsieur le Juge," cried the agent, "if +you permit it who knows but that we may revolutionize +medical jurisprudence?"</p> + +<p>"Revolutionize, revolutionize!" Would the Examining +Magistrate yet find it an idiotic idea?</p> + +<p>M. Ginory passed around the building and entered +by a small door opening on the Seine. The +registrar followed him, and behind him came the +police agent. Bernardet wished to wait until the +doctors delegated to perform the autopsy should +arrive, and the head keeper of the Morgue advised +him to possess himself with patience, and while he +was waiting to look around and see the latest +cadavers which had been brought there.</p> + +<p>"We have had, in eight days, a larger number +of women than men, which is rare. And these +women were nearly all habitués of the public balls +and race tracks."</p> + +<p>"And how can you tell that?"</p> + +<p>"Because they have pretty feet."</p> + +<p>Professor Morin arrived with a confrère, a young +Pasteurian doctor, with a singular mind, broad and +receptive, and who passed among his companions +for a man fond of chimeras, a little retiring, however, +and giving over to making experiments and +to vague dreams. Monsieur Morin saluted M. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 72]</span> +Ginory and presented to him the young doctor, +Erwin by name, and said to the Magistrate that +the house students had probably begun the autopsy +to gain time.</p> + +<p>The body, stripped of its clothing, lay upon the +dissecting table, and three young men, in velvet +skull caps, with aprons tied about their waists, +were standing about the corpse; they had already +begun the autopsy. The mortal wound looked +redder than ever in the whiteness of the naked +body.</p> + +<p>Bernardet glided into the room, trying to keep +out of sight, listening and looking, and, above +everything, not losing sight of M. Ginory's face. +A face in which the look was keen, penetrating, +sharp as a knife, as he bent over the pale face of +the murdered man, regarding it as searchingly as +the surgeons' scalpels were searching the wound +and the flesh. Among those men in their black +clothes, some with bared heads, in order to work +better; others with hats on, the stretched-out +corpse seemed like a wax figure upon a marble slab. +Bernardet thought of those images which he had +seen copied from Rembrandt's pictures—the poet +with the anatomical pincers and the shambles. +The surgeons bent over the body, their hands busy +and their scissors cutting the muscles. That +wound, which had let out his life, that large wound, +like a monstrous and grimacing mouth, they enlarged +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 73]</span> +still more; the head oscillated from side to +side, and they were obliged to prop it with some +mats. The eyes remained the same, and, in spite +of the hours which had passed, seemed as living, +as menacing and eloquent as the night before; +they were, however, veiled with something vitreous +over the pupils, like the amaurosis of death, yet +full of that anger, of that fright, or that ferocious +malediction which was reproduced in a startling +manner in the negatives taken by Bernardet.</p> + +<p>"The secret of the crime is in that look," +thought the police agent. "Those eyes see, those +eyes speak; they tell what they know, they accuse +some one."</p> + +<p>Then, while the professor, his associates and his +students went on with the autopsy, exchanging observations, +following in the mutilated body, their +researches for the truth, trying to be very accurate +as to the nature of the wound, the form even of the +knife with which it was made, Bernardet softly +approached the Examining Magistrate and in a low +tone, timidly, respectfully, he spoke some words, +which were insistent, however, and pressing, urging +the Magistrate to quickly interfere.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Monsieur le Juge, this is the moment; +you who can do everything"——</p> + +<p>The Examining Magistrate has, with us, absolute +power. He does whatever seems to him best. +And he wishes to do a thing, because he wishes to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 74]</span> +do it. M. Ginory, curious by nature and because +it was his duty, hesitated, scratched his ear, rubbed +his nose, bit his lips, listened to the supplicating +murmur of the police officer; but decided not to +speak just then, and continued gazing with a fixed +stare at the dead man.</p> + +<p>This thought came to him, moreover, insistent +and imperious, that he was there to testify in all +things in favor of that truth, the discovery of which +imposed upon him—and suddenly, his sharp voice +interrupted the surgeon's work.</p> + +<p>"Messieurs, does not the expression of the open +eyes strike you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; they express admirably the most perfect +agony," M. Morin replied.</p> + +<p>"And does it not seem," asked the Examining +Magistrate, "as if they were fixed with that expression +on the murderer?"</p> + +<p>"Without doubt! The mouth seems to curse +and the eyes to menace."</p> + +<p>"And what if the last image seen, in fact, that +of the murderer, still remains upon the retina of +the eyes?"</p> + +<p>M. Morin looked at the Magistrate in astonishment, +his air was slightly mocking and the lips and +eyes assumed a quizzical expression. But Bernardet +was very much surprised when he heard one +remark. Dr. Erwin raised his head and while he +seemed to approve of that which M. Ginory had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 75]</span> +advanced, he said: "That image must have disappeared +from the retina some time ago."</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" said M. Ginory.</p> + +<p>Bernardet experienced a profound emotion. He +felt that this time the problem would be officially +settled. M. Ginory had not feared ridicule when he +spoke, and a discussion arose there, in that dissecting +room, in the presence of the corpse. What had existed +only in a dream, in Bernardet's little study, became +here, in the presence of the Examining Magistrate, +a member of the Institute, and the young students, +almost full fledged doctors, a question frankly +discussed in all its bearings. And it was he, standing +back, he, a poor devil of a police officer, who +had urged this Examining Magistrate to question +this savant.</p> + +<p>"At the back of the eyes," said the Professor, +touching the eyes with his scalpel, "there is nothing, +believe me. It is elsewhere that you must +look for your proof."</p> + +<p>"But"—and M. Ginory repeated his "Who +knows?"—"What if we try it this time; will it +inconvenience you, my dear Master?" M. Morin +made a movement with his lips which meant <i>peuh!</i> +and his whole countenance expressed his scorn. +"But, I see no inconvenience." At the end of a +moment he said in a sharp tone: "It will be lost +time."</p> + +<p>"A little more, a little less," replied M. Ginory, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 76]</span> +"the experiment is worth the trouble to make +it."</p> + +<p>M. Ginory had proved without doubt that he, +like Bernardet, wished to satisfy his curiosity, and +in looking at the open eyes of the corpse, although +in his duties he never allowed himself to be influenced +by the sentimental or the dramatic, yet it +seemed to him that those eyes urged him to insist, +nay, even supplicated him.</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," said M. Morin, "what you +dream of in your magistrate's brain is as amusing +as a tale of Edgar Poe's. But to find in those eyes +the image of the murderer—come now, leave that +to the inventive genius of a Rudyard Kipling, but +do not mix the impossible with our researches in +medical jurisprudence. Let us not make romance; +let us make, you the examinations and I the dissection."</p> + +<p>The short tone in which the Professor had +spoken did not exactly please M. Ginory, who now, +a little through self-conceit (since he had made the +proposition), a little through curiosity, decided +that he would not beat a retreat. "Is there anything +to risk?" he asked. "And it might be one +chance in a thousand."</p> + +<p>"But there is no chance," quickly answered M. +Morin. "None—none!"</p> + +<p>Then, relenting a little, he entered the discussion, +explaining why he had no faith.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 77]</span> +"It is not I, M. Ginory, who will deny the possibility +of such a result. But it would be miraculous. +Do you believe in miracles, the impressions of heat, +of the blood, of light, on our tissues are not catalogueable, +if I may be allowed the expression. The +impression on the retina is produced by the refraction +which is called ethereal, phosphorescent, and +which is almost as difficult to seize as to weigh the +imponderable. To think to find on the retina a +luminous impression after a certain number of +hours and days would be, as Vernois has very well +said, to think one can find in the organs of hearing +the last sound which reverberated through them. +<i>Peuh!</i> Seize the air-bubble at the end of a tube +and place it in a museum as a curiosity. Is there +anything left of it but a drop of water which is +burst, while of the fleeting vision or the passing +sound nothing remains."</p> + +<p>The unfortunate Bernardet suffered keenly when +he heard this. He wished to answer. The words +came to his lips. Ah! if he was only in M. +Ginory's place. The latter, with bowed head, listened +and seemed to weigh each word as it dropped +from M. Morin's lips.</p> + +<p>"Let us reason it, but," the Professor went on, +"since the ophthalmoscope does not show to the +oculist on the retina, any of the objects or beings +which a sick man sees—you understand, not one of +them—how can you think that photography can +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 78]</span> +find that object or being on the retina of a dead +man's eye?"</p> + +<p>He waited for objections from the Examining +Magistrate and Bernardet hoped that M. Ginory +would combat some of the Professor's arguments. +He had only to say: "What of it? Let us see! +Let us experiment!" And Bernardet had longed +for just these words from him; but the Magistrate +remained silent, his head still bent. The police +agent felt, with despair, his chance slipping, slipping +away from him, and that never, never again +would he find a like opportunity to test the experiment. +Suddenly, the strident tones of Dr. Erwin's +voice rung out sharply, like an electric bell, and +Bernardet experienced a sensation like that of a +sudden unexpected illumination.</p> + +<p>"My dear Master," he respectfully began, "I +saw at home in Denmark, a poor devil, picked up +dying, half devoured by a wolf; and who, when +taken from the very jaws of the beast, still retained +in the eye a very visible image in which one +could see the nose and teeth of the brute. A +vision! Imagination, perhaps! But the fact struck +me at the time and we made a note of it."</p> + +<p>"And?" questioned M. Morin, in a tone of +raillery.</p> + +<p>Bernardet cocked his ears as a dog does when he +hears an unusual sound. M. Ginory looked at this +slender young man with his long blond hair, his +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 79]</span> +eyes as blue as the waters of a lake, his face pale +and wearing the peculiar look common to searchers +after the mysterious. The students and the others +gathered about their master, remained motionless +and listened intently as to a lecture.</p> + +<p>"And," Dr. Erwin went on frigidly, "if we had +found absolutely nothing we would, at least, have +kept silent about an unsuccessful research, it is +useless to say. Think, then, my dear Master, the +exterior objects must have imprinted themselves +on the retina, did they not? reduced in size, according +to the size of the place wherein they were +reflected; they appeared there, they certainly appeared +there! There is—I beg your pardon for +referring to it, but it is to these others (and Dr. +Erwin designated M. Ginory, his registrar, and +Bernardet)—there is in the retina a substance of a +red color, the <i>pourpre retinien</i>, very sensitive to +the light. Upon the deep red of this membrane +objects are seen white. And one can fix the image. +M. Edmond Perrier, professor in the Museum of +Natural History, reports (you know it better than I, +my dear Master), in a work on animal anatomy and +physiology which our students are all familiar +with, that he made an experiment. After removing +a rabbit's eye, a living rabbit's eye—yes, +science is cruel—he placed it in a dark room, so +that he could obtain upon the retina the image of +some object, a window for instance, and plunged it +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 80]</span> +immediately into a solution of alum and prevented +the decomposition of the <i>pourpre retinien</i>, and the +window could plainly be seen, fixed on the eye. In +that black chamber which we have under our eyebrows, +in the orbit, is a storehouse, a storehouse of +images which are retained, like the image which +the old Dane's eye held of the wolf's nose and +teeth. And who knows? Perhaps it is possible +to ask of a dead man's eye the secret of what it +saw when living."</p> + +<p>This was, put in more scientific terms by the +young Danish doctor, the substance of what Bernardet +believed possible. The young men had listened +with the attractive sympathy, which is displayed +when anything novel is explained. Rigid, +upon the marble slab, the victim seemed to wait +for the result of the discussion, deaf to all the confused +sounds about him; his eye fixed upon the +infinite, upon the unknowable which he now knew.</p> + +<p>It was, however, this insensible body which had +caused the discussion of what was an enigma to +savants. What was the secret of his end? The +last word of his agony? Who made that wound +which had ended his life? And like a statue lying +on its stone couch, the murdered man seemed to +wait. What they knew not, he knew. What they +wished to know, he still knew, perhaps! This +doubt alone, rooted deep in M. Ginory's mind, was +enough to urge him to have the experiment tried, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 81]</span> +and, excusing himself for his infatuation, he begged +M. Morin to grant permission to try the experiment, +which some of the doctors had thought would +be successful.</p> + +<p>"We shall be relieved even if we do not succeed, +and we can but add our defeat to the others."</p> + +<p>M. Morin's face still bore its sceptical smile. +But after all, the Examining Magistrate was master +of the situation, and since young Dr. Erwin +brought the result of the Denmark experiment—a +contribution new in these researches—to add +weight to the matter, the Professor requested that +he should not be asked to lend himself to an +experiment which he declared in advance would be a +perfectly useless one.</p> + +<p>There was a photographic apparatus at the +Morgue as at the Préfecture, used for anthropometry. +Bernardet, moreover, had his kodak in his hand. +One could photograph the retina as soon as the +membrane was separated from the eye by the +autopsy, and when, like the wing of a butterfly, it +had been fastened to a piece of cork. And while +Bernardet was accustomed to all the horrors of +crime, yet he felt his heart beat almost to suffocation +during this operation. He noticed that M. +Ginory became very pale, and that he bit his lips, +casting occasional pitying glances toward the +dead man. On the contrary, the young men bent +over the body and studied it with the admiration +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 82]</span> +and joy of treasure seekers digging in a mine. +Each human fibre seemed to reveal to them some +new truth. They were like jewelers before a casket +full of gems, and what they studied, weighed, examined, +was a human corpse. And when those +eyes, living, terrible, accusing, were removed, leaving +behind them two empty orbits, the Professor +suddenly spoke with marvelous eloquence, flowing +and picturesque, as if he were speaking of works +of art. And it was, in truth, a work of art, this +wonderful mechanism which he explained to his +students, who listened eagerly to each word. It +was a work of art, this eye, with its sclerotic, its +transparent cornea, its aqueous and vitreous humor, +its crystalline lens, and the retina, like a +photographic plate in that black chamber in which +the luminous rays reflect, reversed, the objects seen. +And M. Morin, holding between his fingers the object +which he was demonstrating, spoke of the +membrane formed of fibres and of the terminal +elements of the optic nerve, as a professor of painting +or of sculpture speaks of a gem chased by a +Benvenuto.</p> + +<p>"The human body is a marvel," cried M. Morin, +"a marvel, Messieurs," and he held forth for +several minutes upon the wonderful construction +of this marvel. His enthusiasm was shared, moreover, +by the young men and Dr. Erwin, who +listened intently. Bernardet, ignorant and respectful, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 83]</span> +felt troubled in the presence of this renowned +physiologist, and congratulated himself that it +was he who had insisted on this experiment and +caused a member of the Institute to hold forth +thus. As for M. Ginory, he left the room a moment, +feeling the need of air. The operation, +which the surgeons prolonged with joy, made him +ill, and he felt very faint. He quickly recovered, +however, and returned to the dissecting room, so +as not to lose any of the explanation which M. +Morin was giving as he stood with the eye in his +hand. And in that eye an image remained, perhaps. +He was anxious to search for it, to find it.</p> + +<p>"I will take it upon myself," Bernardet said.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 84]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> police officer did not follow the autopsical +operations closely. He was eager to know—he +was impatient for the moment when, having taken +the picture, he might develop the negatives and +study them to see if he could discover anything, +could decipher any image. He had used photography +in the service of anthropometry; he had taken +the pictures at the Morgue with his kodak, and +now, at home in his little room, which he was able +to darken completely, he was developing his plates.</p> + +<p>Mme. Bernardet and the children were much +struck with the expression of his face. It was +not troubled, but preoccupied and as if he were +completely absorbed. He was very quiet, eating +very little, and seemed thoughtful. His wife asked +him, "Art thou ill?" He responded, "No, I think +not." And his little girls said to each other in +low tones, "Papa is on a trail!"</p> + +<p>He was, in truth! The hunting dog smelled the +scent! The pictures which he had taken of the +retina and had developed showed a result sufficiently +clear for Bernardet to feel confident enough +to tell his chief that he distinctly saw a visage, the +face of a man, confused, no doubt, but clear enough +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 85]</span> +to recognize not only a type, but a distinct type. +As from the depths of a cloud, in a sort of white +halo, a human face appeared whose features could +be distinctly seen with a magnifying glass! The +face of a man with a pointed black beard, the forehead +a little bald, and blackish spots which indicated +the eyes. It was only a phantom, evidently, +and the photographer at the Préfecture seemed +more moved than Bernardet by the proofs obtained. +Clearer than in spirit photographs, which +so many credulous people believe in, the image +showed plainly, and in studying it one could distinctly +follow the contours. A spectre, perhaps, +but the spectre of a man who was still young and +resembled, with his pointed beard, some trooper of +the sixteenth century, a phantom of some Seigneur +Clouet.</p> + +<p>"For example," said the official photographer, +"if one could discover a murderer by photographing +a dead man's eyes, this would be miraculous. +It is incredible!"</p> + +<p>"Not more incredible," Bernardet replied, "than +what the papers publish: Edison is experimenting +on making the blind see by using the Roentgen +Rays. There is a miracle!"</p> + +<p>Then Bernardet took his proofs to M. Ginory. +The police officer felt that the magistrate, the sovereign +power in criminal researches, ought, above +everything, to collaborate with him, to consent to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 86]</span> +these experiments which so many others had declared +useless and absurd. The taste for researches, +which was with M. Ginory a matter of temperament +as well as a duty to his profession, was, fortunately, +keen on this scent. Criminals call in +their argot, the judges, "the pryers." Curiosity +in this man was combined with a knowledge of +profound researches.</p> + +<p>When Bernardet spread out on M. Ginory's desk +the four photographs which he had brought with +him, the first remark which the examining Magistrate +made was: "But I see nothing—a cloud, a +mist, and then after?" Bernardet drew a magnifying +glass from his pocket and pointed out as he +would have explained an enigmatical design, the +lineaments, moving his finger over the contour of +the face which his nail outlined, that human face +which he had seen and studied in his little room in +the passage of the Elysée des Beaux-Arts. He +made him see—after some moments of minute examination—he +made him see that face. "It is +true—there is an image there," exclaimed M. +Ginory. He added: "Is it plain enough for me to +see it so that I can from it imagine a living being? +I see the form, divined it at first, saw it clearly defined +afterward. At first it seemed very vague, +but I find it sufficiently well defined so that I can +see each feature, but without any special character. +Oh!" continued M. Ginory, excitedly, rubbing +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 87]</span> +his plump little hands, "if it was only possible, +if it was only possible! What a marvel!"</p> + +<p>"It is possible, Monsieur le Juge! have faith," +Bernardet replied. "I swear to you that it is +possible." This enthusiasm gained over the Examining +Magistrate. Bernardet had found a fellow-sympathizer +in his fantastic ideas. M. Ginory +was now—if only to try the experiment—resolved +to direct the investigation on this plan. He was +anxious to first show the proofs to those who would +be apt to recognize in them a person whom they +might have once seen in the flesh. "To Moniche +first and then to his wife," said Bernardet.</p> + +<p>"Who is Moniche?"</p> + +<p>"The concierge in the Boulevard de Clichy."</p> + +<p>Ordered to come to the court, M. and Mme. +Moniche were overjoyed. They were summoned +to appear before the Judges. They had become +important personages. Perhaps their pictures +would be published in the papers. They dressed +themselves as for a fête. Mme. Moniche in her +Sunday best strove to do honor to M. Rovère. She +said to Moniche in all sincerity: "Our duty is to +avenge him."</p> + +<p>While sitting on a bench in one of the long, cold +corridors, the porter and his wife saw pass before +them prisoners led by their jailers; some looked +menacing, while others had a cringing air and +seemed to try to escape notice. These two persons +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 88]</span> +felt that they were playing rôles as important as +those in a melodrama at the Ambigu. The time +seemed long to them, and M. Ginory did not call +them as soon as they wished that he would. They +thought of their home, which, while they were detained +there, would be invaded by the curious, the +gossips and reporters.</p> + +<p>"How slow these Judges are," growled Moniche.</p> + +<p>When he was conducted into the presence of M. +Ginory and his registrar, and seated upon a chair, +he was much confused and less bitter. He felt a +vague terror of all the paraphernalia of justice +which surrounded him. He felt that he was running +some great danger, and to the Judge's questions +he replied with extreme prudence. Thanks +to him and his wife M. Ginory found out a great +deal about M. Rovère's private life; he penetrated +into that apparently hidden existence, he searched +to see if he could discover, among the people who +had visited the old ex-Consul the one among all +others who might have committed the deed.</p> + +<p>"You never saw the woman who visited Rovère?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. The veiled lady. The Woman in Black. +But I do not know her. No one knew her."</p> + +<p>The story told by the portress about the time +when she surprised the stranger and Rovère with +the papers in his hand in front of the open safe +made quite an impression on the Examining Magistrate.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 89]</span> +"Do you know the name of the visitor?"</p> + +<p>"No, Monsieur," the portress replied.</p> + +<p>"But if you should see him again would you +recognize him?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly! I see his face there, before me!"</p> + +<p>She made haste to return to her home so that +she might relate her impressions to her fellow gossips. +The worthy couple left the court puffed up +with self-esteem because of the rôle which they had +been called upon to play. The obsequies were to +be held the next day, and the prospect of a dramatic +day in which M. and Mme. Moniche would +still play this important rôle, created in them an +agony which was almost joyous. The crowd +around the house of the crime was always large. +Some few passers-by stopped—stopped before the +stone façade behind which a murder had been committed. +The reporters returned again and again +for news, and the couple, greedy for glory, could not +open a paper without seeing their names printed in +large letters. One journal had that morning even +published an especial article: "Interviews with M. +and Mme. Moniche."</p> + +<p>The crowd buzzed about the lodge like a swarm +of flies. M. Rovère's body had been brought back +from the Morgue. The obsequies would naturally +attract an enormous crowd; all the more, as the +mystery was still as deep as ever. Among his +papers had been found a receipt for a tomb in the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 90]</span> +cemetery at Montmartre, bought by him about a +year before. In another paper, not dated, were +found directions as to how his funeral was to be +conducted. M. Rovère, after having passed a wandering +life, wished to rest in his native country. +But no other indications of his wishes, nothing +about his relatives, had been found. It seemed as +if he was a man without a family, without any +place in society, or any claim on any one to bury +him. And this distressing isolation added to the +morbid curiosity which was attached to the house, +now all draped in black, with the letter "R" standing +out in white against its silver escutcheon.</p> + +<p>Who would be chief mourner? M. Rovère had +appointed no one. He had asked in that paper +that a short notice should be inserted in the paper +giving the hour and date of the services, and giving +him the simple title ex-Consul. "I hope," went +on the writer, "to be taken to the cemetery quietly +and followed by intimate friends, if any remain."</p> + +<p>Intimate friends were scarce in that crowd, without +doubt, but the dead man's wish could hardly +be carried out. Those obsequies which he had +wished to be quiet became a sort of fête, funereal +and noisy; where the thousands of people crowding +the Boulevard crushed each other in their desire +to see, and pressed almost upon the draped +funeral car which the neighbors had covered with +flowers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 91]</span> +Everything is a spectacle for Parisians. The +guardians of the peace strove to keep back the +crowds; some gamins climbed into the branches of +the trees. The bier had been placed at the foot of +the staircase in the narrow corridor opening upon +the street. Mme. Moniche had placed upon a table +in the lodge some loose leaves, where Rovère's unknown +friends could write their names.</p> + +<p>Bernardet, alert, with his eyes wide open, studying +the faces, searching the eyes, mingled with the +crowd, looked at the file of people, scrutinized, one +by one, the signatures; Bernardet, in mourning, +wearing black gloves, seemed more like an undertaker's +assistant than a police spy. Once he found +himself directly in front of the open door of the lodge +and the table where the leaves lay covered with +signatures; when in the half light of the corridor +draped with black, where the bier lay, he saw a +man of about fifty, pale and very sad looking. He +had arrived, in his turn in the line, at the table, +where he signed his name. Mme. Moniche, +clothed in black, with a white handkerchief in her +hand, although she was not weeping, found herself +side by side with Bernardet; in fact, their elbows +touched. When the man reached the table, coming +from the semi-darkness of the passage, and stepped +into the light which fell full on him from the window, +the portress involuntarily exclaimed, "Ah!" +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 92]</span> +She was evidently much excited, and caught the +police officer by the hand and said:</p> + +<p>"I am afraid!"</p> + +<p>She spoke in such a low tone that Bernardet +divined rather than heard what she meant in that +stifled cry. He looked at her from the corner of +his eye. He saw that she was ghastly, and again +she spoke in a low tone: "He! he whom I saw +with M. Rovère before the open safe!"</p> + +<p>Bernardet gave the man one sweeping glance of +the eye. He fairly pierced him through with his +sharp look. The unknown, half bent over the +table whereon lay the papers, showed a wide forehead, +slightly bald, and a pointed beard, a little +gray, which almost touched the white paper as he +wrote his name.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the police officer experienced a strange +sensation; it seemed to him that this face, the +shape of the head, the pointed beard, he had recently +seen somewhere, and that this human +silhouette recalled to him an image which he had +recently studied. The perception of a possibility +of a proof gave him a shock. This man who was +there made him think suddenly of that phantom +discernible in the photographs taken of the retina +of the murdered man's eye.</p> + +<p>"Who is that man?"</p> + +<p>Bernardet shivered with pleasurable excitement, +and, insisting upon his own impression that this +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 93]</span> +unknown strongly recalled the image obtained, and +mentally he compared this living man, bending over +the table, writing his name, with that spectre +which had the air of a trooper which appeared in +the photograph. The contour was the same, not +only of the face, but the beard. This man reminded +one of a Seigneur of the time of Henry III., and +Bernardet found in that face something formidable. +The man had signed his name. He raised his head, +and his face, of a dull white, was turned full toward +the police officer; their looks crossed, keen +on Bernardet's side, veiled in the unknown. But +before the fixity of the officer's gaze the strange +man dropped his head for a moment; then, in his +turn, he fixed a piercing, almost menacing, gaze on +Bernardet. Then the latter slowly dropped his +eyes and bowed; the unknown went out quickly +and was lost in the crowd before the house.</p> + +<p>"It is he! it is he!" repeated the portress, who +trembled as if she had seen a ghost.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had the unknown disappeared than the +police officer took but two steps to reach the table, +and bending over it in his turn, he read the name +written by that man:</p> + +<p>"Jacques Dantin."</p> + +<p>The name awakened no remembrance in Bernardet's +mind, and now it was a living problem +that he had to solve.</p> + +<p>"Tell no one that you have seen that man," he +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 94]</span> +hastily said to Mme. Moniche. "No one! Do you +hear?" And he hurried out into the Boulevard, +picking his way through the crowd and watching +out to find that Jacques Dantin, whom he wished +to follow.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 95]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jacques Dantin</span>, moreover, was not difficult to +find in the crowd. He stood near the funeral car; +his air was very sad. Bernardet had a fine opportunity +to examine him at his ease. He was an +elegant looking man, slender, with a resolute air, +and frowning eyebrows which gave his face a very +energetic look. His head bared to the cold wind, +he stood like a statue while the bearers placed the +casket in the funeral car, and Bernardet noticed +the shaking of the head—a distressed shaking. +The longer the police officer looked at him, studied +him, the stronger grew the resemblance to the +image in the photograph. Bernardet would soon +know who this Jacques Dantin was, and even at +this moment he asked a question or two of some +of the assistants.</p> + +<p>"Do you know who that gentleman is standing +near the hearse?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what Jacques Dantin does? +Was he one of M. Rovère's intimate friends?"</p> + +<p>"Jacques Dantin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; see, there, with the pointed beard."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 96]</span> +"I do not know him."</p> + +<p>Bernardet thought that if he addressed the +question to M. Dantin himself he might learn all +he wished to know at once, and he approached him +at the moment the procession started, and walked +along with him almost to the cemetery, striving to +enter into conversation with him. He spoke of +the dead man, sadly lamenting M. Rovère's sad +fate. But he found his neighbor very silent. Upon +the sidewalk of the Boulevard the dense crowd +stood in respectful silence and uncovered as the +cortège passed, and the officer noticed that some +loose petals from the flowers dropped upon the +roadway.</p> + +<p>"There are a great many flowers," he remarked +to his neighbor. "It is rather surprising, as M. +Rovère seemed to have so few friends."</p> + +<p>"He has had many," the man brusquely remarked. +His voice was hoarse, and quivered with +emotion. Bernardet saw that he was strongly +moved. Was it sorrow? Was it bitterness of +spirit? Remorse, perhaps! The man did not +seem, moreover, in a very softened mood. He +walked along with his eyes upon the funeral car, +his head uncovered in spite of the cold, and seemed +to be in deep thought. The police officer studied +him from a corner of his eye. His wrinkled face +was intelligent, and bore an expression of weariness, +but there was something hard about the set +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 97]</span> +of the mouth and insolent in the turned-up end of +his mustache.</p> + +<p>As they approached the cemetery at Montmartre—the +journey was not a long one in which to make +conversation—Bernardet ventured a decisive question: +"Did you know M. Rovère very well?"</p> + +<p>The other replied: "Very well."</p> + +<p>"And whom do you think could have had any +interest in this matter?" The question was brusque +and cut like a knife. Jacques Dantin hesitated in +his reply, looking keenly as they walked along at +this little man with his smiling aspect, whose name +he did not know and who had questioned him.</p> + +<p>"It is because I have a great interest in at once +commencing my researches," said Bernardet, measuring +his words in order to note the effect which +they would produce on this unknown man. "I am +a police detective."</p> + +<p>Oh! This time Bernardet saw Dantin shiver. +There was no doubt of it; this close contact with a +police officer troubled him, and he turned pale and +a quick spasm passed over his face. His anxious +eyes searched Bernardet's face, but, content with +stealing an occasional glance of examination toward +his neighbor, the little man walked along with +eyes cast toward the ground. He studied Jacques +Dantin in sudden, quick turns of the eye.</p> + +<p>The car advanced slowly, turned the corner of +the Boulevard and passed into the narrow avenue +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 98]</span> +which led to God's Acre. The arch of the iron +bridge led to the Campo-Santo like a viaduct of +living beings, over to the Land of Sleep, for it was +packed with a curious crowd; it was a scene for a +melodrama, the cortège and the funeral car covered +with wreaths. Bernardet, still walking by Dantin's +side, continued to question him. The agent noticed +that these questions seemed to embarrass M. +Rovère's pretended friend.</p> + +<p>"Is it a long time since M. Rovère and Jacques +Dantin have known each other?"</p> + +<p>"We have been friends since childhood."</p> + +<p>"And did you see him often?"</p> + +<p>"No. Life had separated us."</p> + +<p>"Had you seen him recently? Mme. Moniche +said that you had."</p> + +<p>"Who is Mme. Moniche?"</p> + +<p>"The concierge of the house, and a sort of housekeeper +for M. Rovère."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Yes!" said Jacques Dantin, as if he had +just remembered some forgotten sight. Bernardet, +by instinct, read this man's thoughts; saw again +with him also the tragic scene when the portress, +suddenly entering M. Rovère's apartments, had +seen him standing, face to face with Dantin, in +front of the open safe, with a great quantity of +papers spread out.</p> + +<p>"Do you believe that he had many enemies?" +asked the police agent, with deliberate calculation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 99]</span> +"No," Dantin sharply replied, without hesitation. +Bernardet waited a moment, then in a firm +voice he said: "M. Ginory will no doubt count a +good deal on you in order to bring about the arrest +of the assassin."</p> + +<p>"M. Ginory?"</p> + +<p>"The Examining Magistrate."</p> + +<p>"Then he will have to make haste with his investigation," +Jacques Dantin replied. "I shall +soon be obliged to leave Paris." This reply +astonished Bernardet. This departure, of which +the motive was probably a simple one, seemed to +him strange under the tragic circumstances. M. +Dantin, moreover, did not hesitate to give him, +without his asking for it, his address, adding that +he would hold himself in readiness from his return +from the cemetery at the disposition of the Examining +Magistrate.</p> + +<p>"The misfortune is that I can tell nothing, as +I know nothing. I do not even suspect who +could have any interest in killing that unfortunate +man. A professional criminal, without +doubt."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe so."</p> + +<p>The cortège had now reached one of the side +avenues; a white fog enveloped everything, and +the marble tombs shone ghostly through it. The +spot chosen by M. Rovère himself was at the end +of the Avenue de la Cloche. The car slowly rolled +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 100]</span> +toward the open grave. Mme. Moniche, overcome +with grief, staggered as she walked along, but her +husband, the tailor, seemed to be equal to the occasion +and his rôle. They both assumed different expressions +behind their dead. And Paul Rodier +walked along just in front of them, note book in +hand. Bernardet promised himself to keep close +watch of Dantin and see in what manner he carried +himself at the tomb. A pressure of the crowd separated +them for a moment, but the officer was perfectly +satisfied. Standing on the other side of the +grave, face to face with him, was Dantin; a row of +the most curious had pushed in ahead of Bernardet, +but in this way he could better see Dantin's face, +and not miss the quiver of a muscle. He stood on +tiptoe and peered this way and that, between the +heads, and could thus scrutinize and analyze, without +being perceived himself.</p> + +<p>Dantin was standing on the very edge of the +grave. He held himself very upright, in a tense, +almost aggressive way, and looked, from time to +time, into the grave with an expression of anger +and almost defiance. Of what was he thinking? +In that attitude, which seemed to be a revolt +against the destiny which had come to his friend, +Bernardet read a kind of hardening of the will +against an emotion which might become excessive +and telltale. He was not, as yet, persuaded of the +guiltiness of this man, but he did not find in that +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 101]</span> +expression of defiance the tenderness which ought +to be shown for a friend—a lifelong friend, as +Dantin had said that Rovère was. And then the +more he examined him—there, for example, seeing +his dark silhouette clearly defined in front of the +dense white of a neighboring column—the more the +aspect of this man corresponded with that of the +vision transfixed in the dead man's eye. Yes, it +was the same profile of a trooper, his hand upon his +hip, as if resting upon a rapier. Bernardet blinked +his eyes in order to better see that man. He perceived +a man who strongly recalled the vague form +found in that retina, and his conviction came to the +aid of his instinct, gradually increased, and became, +little by little, invincible, irresistible. He repeated +the address which this man had given him: "Jacques +Dantin, Rue de Richelieu, 114." He would +make haste to give that name to M. Ginory, and +have a citation served upon him. Why should +this Dantin leave Paris? What was his manner of +living? his means of existence? What were the +passions, the vices, of the man standing there with +the austere mien of a Huguenot, in front of the +open grave?</p> + +<p>Bernardet saw that, despite his strong will and +his wish to stand there impassive, Jacques Dantin +was troubled when, with a heavy sound, the casket +glided over the cords down into the grave. He bit +the ends of his mustache and his gloved hand made +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 102]</span> +several irresistible, nervous movements. And the +look cast into that grave! The look cast at that +casket lying in the bottom of that grave! On that +casket was a plate bearing the inscription: "Louis +Pièrre Rovère." That mute look, rapid and grief-stricken, +was cast upon that open casket, which +contained the body—the gash across its throat, dissected, +mutilated; the face with those dreadful +eyes, which had been taken from their orbits, and, +after delivering up their secret, replaced!</p> + +<p>They now defiled past the grave, and Dantin, the +first, with a hand which trembled, sprinkled upon +the casket those drops of water which are for our +dead the last tears. Ah! but he was pale, almost +livid; and how he trembled—this man with a stern +face! Bernardet noticed the slightest trace of +emotion. He approached in his turn and took the +holy water sprinkler; then, as he turned away, desirous +of catching up with M. Dantin, he heard his +name called, and, turning, saw Paul Rodier, whose +face was all smiles.</p> + +<p>"Well! Monsieur Bernardet, what new?" he +asked. The tall young man had a charming air.</p> + +<p>"Nothing new," said the agent.</p> + +<p>"You know that this murder has aroused a great +deal of interest?"</p> + +<p>"I do not doubt it."</p> + +<p>"Leon Luzarche is enchanted. Yes, Luzarche, +the novelist. He had begun a novel, of which the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 103]</span> +first instalment was published in the same paper +which brought out the first news of 'The Crime of +the Boulevard de Clichy,' and as the paper has +sold, sold, sold, he thinks that it is his story which +has caused the immense and increased sales. No +one is reading 'l'Ange-Gnome,' but the murder. +All novelists ought to try to have a fine assassination +published at the same time as their serials, so +as to increase the sales of the paper. What a fine +collaboration, Monsieur! Pleasantry, Monsieur! +Have you any unpublished facts?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Not one? Not a trace?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," Bernardet replied.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well! I—I have some, Monsieur—but it +will surprise you. Read my paper! Make the +papers sell."</p> + +<p>"But"—began the officer.</p> + +<p>"See here! Professional secret! Only, have +you thought of the woman in black who came occasionally +to see the ex-Consul?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Well, she must be made to come back—that +woman in black. It is not an easy thing to do. +But I believe that I have ferreted her out. Yes, in +one of the provinces."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Professional secret," repeated the reporter, +laughing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 104]</span> +"And if M. Ginory asks for your professional +secret?"</p> + +<p>"I will answer him as I answer you. Read my +paper! Read <i>Lutèce</i>!"</p> + +<p>"But the Judge, to him"——</p> + +<p>"Professional secret," said Paul Rodier for the +third time. "But what a romance it would make! +The Woman in Black!"</p> + +<p>While listening, Bernardet had not lost sight of +M. Dantin, who, in the centre of one of the avenues, +stood looking at the slowly moving crowd of +curiosity seekers. He seemed to be vainly searching +for a familiar face. He looked haggard. +Whether it was grief or remorse, he certainly +showed violent emotion. The police officer divined +that a sharp struggle was taking place within that +man's heart, and the sadness was great with which +he watched that crowd in order to discover some +familiar face, but he beheld only those of the +curious. What Bernardet considered of the greatest +importance was not to lose sight of this person of +whose existence he was ignorant an hour before; +and who, to him, was the perpetrator of the deed +or an accomplice. He followed Dantin at a distance, +who, from the cemetery at Montmartre went +on foot directly to the Rue de Richelieu, and +stopped at the number he had given, 114.</p> + +<p>Bernardet allowed some minutes to pass after the +man on whose track he was had entered. Then he +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 105]</span> +asked the concierge if M. Jacques Dantin was at +home. He questioned him closely and became convinced +that M. Rovère's friend had really lived +there two years and had no profession.</p> + +<p>"Then," said the police agent, "it is not this +Dantin for whom I am looking. He is a banker." +He excused himself, went out, hailed a fiacre, and +gave the order: "To the Préfecture."</p> + +<p>His report to the Chief, M. Morel, was soon +made. He listened to him with attention, for he +had absolute confidence in the police officer. "Never +any <i>gaff</i> with Bernardet," M. Morel was wont to +say. He, like Bernardet, soon felt convinced that +this man was probably the murderer of the ex-Consul.</p> + +<p>"As to the motive which led to the crime, we +shall know it later."</p> + +<p>He wished, above everything else, to have strict +inquiries made into Dantin's past life, in regard to +his present existence; and the inquiries would be +compared with his answers to the questions which +M. Ginory would ask him when he had been cited +as a witness.</p> + +<p>"Go at once to M. Ginory's room, Bernardet," +said the Chief. "During this time I would learn +a little about what kind of a man this is."</p> + +<p>Bernardet had only to cross some corridors and +mount a few steps to reach the gallery upon which +M. Ginory's room opened. While waiting to be +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 106]</span> +admitted he passed up and down; seated on benches +were a number of malefactors, some of whom knew +him well, who were waiting examination. He was +accustomed to see this sight daily, and without being +moved, but this time he was overcome by a +sort of agony, a spasm which contracted even his +fingers and left his nerves in as quivering a state +as does insomnia. Truly, in the present case he +was much more concerned than in an ordinary manhunt. +The officer experienced the fear which an +inventor feels before the perfection of a new discovery. +He had undertaken a formidable problem, +apparently insoluble, and he desired to solve it. +Once or twice he took out from the pocket of his +redingote an old worn case and looked at the proofs +of the retina which he had pasted on a card. There +could be no doubt. This figure, a little confused, +had the very look of the man who had bent over +the grave. M. Ginory would be struck by it when +he had Jacques Dantin before him. Provided the +Examining Magistrate still had the desire which +Bernardet had incited in him, to push the matter +to the end. Fortunately M. Ginory was very curious. +With this curiosity anything might happen. +The time seemed long. What if this Dantin, who +spoke of leaving Paris, should disappear, should +escape the examination? What miserable little +affair occupied M. Ginory? Would he ever be at +liberty?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 107]</span> +The door opened, a man in a blouse was led out; +the registrar appeared on the threshold and Bernardet +asked if he could not see M. Ginory immediately, +as he had an important communication to +make to him.</p> + +<p>"I will not detain him long," he said.</p> + +<p>Far from appearing annoyed, the Magistrate +seemed delighted to see the officer. He related to +him all he knew, how he had seen the man at M. +Rovère's funeral. That Mme. Moniche had recognized +him as the one whom she had surprised standing +with M. Rovère before the open safe. That he +had signed his name and took first rank in the +funeral cortège, less by reason of an old friendship +which dated from childhood than by that strange +and impulsive sentiment which compels the guilty +man to haunt the scene of his crime, to remain near +his victim, as if the murder, the blood, the corpse, +held for him a morbid fascination.</p> + +<p>"I shall soon know," said M. Ginory. He dictated +to the registrar a citation to appear before +him, rang the bell and gave the order to serve the +notice on M. Dantin at the given address and to +bring him to the Palais.</p> + +<p>"Do not lose sight of him," he said to Bernardet, +and began some other examinations. Bernardet +bowed and his eyes shone like those of a sleuth +hound on the scent of his prey.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 108]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Between</span> the examining Magistrate, who questioned, +and the man cited to appear before him, who +replied, it was a duel; a close game, rapid and tragic, +in which each feint might make a mortal wound; in +which each parry and thrust might be decisive. +No one in the world has the power of the man who, +in a word, can change to a prisoner the one who +enters the Palais as a passer-by. Behind this inquisitor +of the law the prison stands; the tribunal +in its red robes appears; the beams of the scaffold +cast their sinister shadows, and the magistrate's +cold chamber already seems to have the lugubrious +humidity of the dungeons where the condemned +await their fate.</p> + +<p>Jacques Dantin arrived at the Palais in answer +to the Magistrate's citation, with the apparent +alacrity of a man who, regretting a friend tragically +put out of the world, wishes to aid in avenging +him. He did not hesitate a second, and Bernardet, +who saw him enter the carriage, was struck with +the seeming eagerness and haste with which he responded +to the Magistrate's order. When M. +Ginory was informed that Jacques Dantin had arrived, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 109]</span> +he allowed an involuntary "Ah!" to escape +him. This ah! seemed to express the satisfaction +of an impatient spectator when the signal is given +which announces that the curtain is about to be +raised. For the Examining Magistrate, the drama +in which he was about to unravel the mystery was +to begin. He kept his eyes fixed upon the door, +attributing, correctly, a great importance to the +first impression the comer would make upon him +as he entered the room. M. Ginory found that he +was much excited; this was to him a novel thing; +but by exercising his strong will he succeeded in +mastering the emotion, and his face and manner +showed no trace of it.</p> + +<p>In the open door M. Jacques Dantin appeared. +The first view, for the Magistrate, was favorable. +The man was tall, well built; he bowed with grace +and looked straight before him. But at the same +time M. Ginory was struck by the strange resemblance +of this haughty face to that image obtained +by means of Bernardet's kodak. It seemed to him +that this image had the same stature, the same +form as that man surrounded by the hazy clouds. +Upon a second examination it seemed to the +Magistrate that the face betrayed a restrained violence, +a latent brutality. The eyes were stern, +under their bristling brows; the pointed beard, +quite thin on the cheeks, showed the heavy jaws, +and under the gray mustache the under lip protruded +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 110]</span> +like those of certain Spanish cavaliers +painted by Velasquez.</p> + +<p>"Prognathous," thought M. Ginory, as he noticed +this characteristic. With a gesture he motioned +M. Dantin to a chair. The man was there before +the Judge who, with crossed hands, his elbows +leaning on his papers, seemed ready to talk of insignificant +things, while the registrar's bald head +was bent over his black table as he rapidly took +notes. The interview took on a grave tone, but as +between two men who, meeting in a salon, speak +of the morning or of the première of the evening +before, and M. Ginory asked M. Dantin for some +information in regard to M. Rovère.</p> + +<p>"Did you know him intimately?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, M. le Juge."</p> + +<p>"For how many years?"</p> + +<p>"For more than forty. We were comrades at +a school in Bordeaux."</p> + +<p>"You are a Bordelais?"</p> + +<p>"Like Rovère, yes," Dantin replied.</p> + +<p>"Of late, have you seen M. Rovère frequently?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, M. le Juge, but what do +you mean by of late?"</p> + +<p>M. Ginory believed that he had discovered in this +question put by a man who was himself being interrogated—a +tactic—a means of finding before replying, +time for reflection. He was accustomed to +these manœuvres of the accused.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 111]</span> +"When I say of late," he replied, "I mean +during the past few weeks or days which preceded +the murder—if that suits you."</p> + +<p>"I saw him often, in fact, even oftener than +formerly."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>Jacques Dantin seemed to hesitate. +"I do not know—chance. In Paris one has intimate +friends, one does not see them for some +months; and suddenly one sees them again, and +one meets them more frequently."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever had any reason for the interruptions +in your relations with M. Rovère when +you ceased to see him, as you say?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever."</p> + +<p>"Was there between you any sort of rivalry, +any motive for coldness?"</p> + +<p>"Any motive—any rivalry. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," said the great man; "I ask +you. I am questioning you."</p> + +<p>The registrar's pen ran rapidly and noiselessly +over the paper, with the speed of a bird on the +wing.</p> + +<p>These words, "I am questioning you," seemed +to make an unexpected, disagreeable impression +on Dantin, and he frowned.</p> + +<p>"When did you visit Rovère the last time?"</p> + +<p>"The last time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Strive to remember."</p> + +<p>"Two or three days before the murder."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 112]</span> +"It was not two or three days; it was two days +exactly before the assassination."</p> + +<p>"You are right, I beg your pardon."</p> + +<p>The Examining Magistrate waited a moment, +looking the man full in the eyes. It seemed to +him that a slight flush passed over his hitherto +pale face.</p> + +<p>"Do you suspect anyone as the murderer of +Rovère?" asked M. Ginory after a moment's reflection.</p> + +<p>"No one," said Dantin. "I have tried to think +of some one."</p> + +<p>"Had Rovère any enemies?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know of any."</p> + +<p>The Magistrate swung around by a detour +habitual with him to Jacques Dantin's last visit to +the murdered man, and begged him to be precise, +and asked him if anything had especially struck +him during that last interview with his friend.</p> + +<p>"The idea of suicide having been immediately +dropped on the simple examination of the wound, +no doubt exists as to the cause of death. Rovère +was assassinated. By whom? In your last interview +was there any talk between you of any uneasiness +which he felt in regard to anything? Was he occupied +with any especial affair? Had he—sometimes +one has presentiments—any presentiment of +an impending evil, that he was running any danger?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 113]</span> +"No," Dantin replied. "Rovère made no allusion +to me of any peril which he feared. I have +asked myself who could have any interest in his +death. One might have done the deed for plunder."</p> + +<p>"That seems very probable to me," said the Magistrate, +"but the examination made in the apartment +proves that not a thing had been touched. +Theft was not the motive."</p> + +<p>"Then?" asked Dantin.</p> + +<p>The sanguine face of the Magistrate, that robust +visage, with its massive jaws, lighted up with a +sort of ironical expression.</p> + +<p>"Then we are here to search for the truth and to +find it." In this response, made in a mocking tone, +the registrar, who knew every varying shade of +tone in his Chief's voice, raised his head, for in this +tone he detected a menace.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me all that passed in that last interview?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing whatever which could in any way put +justice on the track of the criminal."</p> + +<p>"But yet can you, or, rather, I should say, ought +you not to relate to me all that was said or done? +The slightest circumstance might enlighten us."</p> + +<p>"Rovère spoke to me of private affairs," Dantin +replied, but quickly added: "They were insignificant +things."</p> + +<p>"What are insignificant things?"</p> + +<p>"Remembrances—family matters."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 114]</span> +"Family things are not insignificant, above all +in a case like this. Had Rovère any family? No +relative assisted at the obsequies."</p> + +<p>Jacques Dantin seemed troubled, unnerved rather, +and this time it was plainly visible. He replied in +a short tone, which was almost brusque:</p> + +<p>"He talked of the past."</p> + +<p>"What past?" asked the Judge, quickly.</p> + +<p>"Of his youth—of moral debts."</p> + +<p>M. Ginory turned around in his chair, leaned +back, and said in a caustic tone: "Truly, Monsieur, +you certainly ought to complete your information +and not make an enigma of your deposition. +I do not understand this useless reticence, +and moral debts, to use your words; they are only +to gain time. What, then, was M. Rovère's past?"</p> + +<p>Dantin hesitated a moment; not very long. +Then he firmly said: "That, Monsieur le Juge, is +a secret confided to me by my friend, and as it has +nothing to do with this matter, I ask you to refrain +from questioning me about it."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," the magistrate replied. +"There is not, there cannot be a secret for an Examining +Magistrate. In Rovère's interests, whose +memory ought to have public vindication, yes, in +his interests, and I ought to say also in your own, +it is necessary that you should state explicitly +what you have just alluded to. You tell me that +there is a secret. I wish to know it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 115]</span> +"It is the confidence of a dead person, Monsieur," +Dantin replied, in vibrating tones.</p> + +<p>"There are no confidences when justice is in the +balance."</p> + +<p>"But it is also the secret of a living person," +said Jacques Dantin.</p> + +<p>"Is it of yourself of whom you speak?"</p> + +<p>He gazed keenly at the face, now tortured and +contracted.</p> + +<p>Dantin replied: "No, I do not speak of myself, +but of another."</p> + +<p>"That other—who is he?"</p> + +<p>"It is impossible to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Impossible?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely impossible!"</p> + +<p>"I will repeat to you my first question—'Why?'"</p> + +<p>"Because I have sworn on my honor to reveal it +to no one."</p> + +<p>"Ah, ah!" said Ginory, mockingly; "it was a +vow? That is perfect!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Monsieur le Juge; it was a vow."</p> + +<p>"A vow made to whom?"</p> + +<p>"To Rovère."</p> + +<p>"Who is no longer here to release you from it. +I understand."</p> + +<p>"And," asked Dantin, with a vehemence which +made the registrar's thin hand tremble as it flew +over the paper, "what do you understand?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 116]</span> +"Pardon," said M. Ginory; "you are not here +to put questions, but to answer those which are +asked you. It is certain that a vow which binds +the holder of a secret is a means of defence, but +the accused have, by making common use of it, +rendered it useless."</p> + +<p>The Magistrate noticed the almost menacing +frown with which Dantin looked at him at the +words, "the accused."</p> + +<p>"The accused?" said the man, turning in his +chair. "Am I one of the accused?" His voice +was strident, almost strangled.</p> + +<p>"I do not know that," said M. Ginory, in a very +calm tone; "I say that you wish to keep your +secret, and it is a claim which I do not admit."</p> + +<p>"I repeat, Monsieur le Juge, that the secret is +not mine."</p> + +<p>"It is no longer a secret which can remain +sacred here. A murder has been committed, a +murderer is to be found, and everything you know +you ought to reveal to justice."</p> + +<p>"But if I give you my word of honor that it has +not the slightest bearing on the matter—with the +death of Rovère?"</p> + +<p>"I shall tell my registrar to write your very +words in reply—he has done it—I shall continue +to question you, precisely because you speak to me +of a secret which has been confided to you and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 117]</span> +which you refuse to disclose to me. Because you +do refuse?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely!"</p> + +<p>"In spite of what I have said to you? It is a +warning; you know it well!"</p> + +<p>"In spite of your warning!"</p> + +<p>"Take care!" M. Ginory softly said. His +angry face had lost its wonted amiability. The +registrar quickly raised his head. He felt that a +decisive moment had come. The Examining Magistrate +looked directly into Dantin's eyes and +slowly said: "You remember that you were seen +by the portress at the moment when Rovère, standing +with you in front of his open safe, showed you +some valuables?"</p> + +<p>Dantin waited a moment before he replied, as if +measuring these words, and searching to find out +just what M. Ginory was driving at. This silence, +short and momentous, was dramatic. The Magistrate +knew it well—that moment of agony when +the question seems like a cord, like a lasso suddenly +thrown, and tightening around one's neck. +There was always, in his examination, a tragic +moment.</p> + +<p>"I remember very well that I saw a person +whom I did not know enter the room where I +was with M. Rovère," Jacques Dantin replied at +last.</p> + +<p>"A person whom you did not know? You +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 118]</span> +knew her very well, since you had more than once +asked her if M. Rovère was at home. That person +is Mme. Moniche, who has made her deposition."</p> + +<p>"And what did she say in her deposition?"</p> + +<p>The Magistrate took a paper from the table in +front of him and read: "When I entered, M. +Rovère was standing before his safe, and I noticed +that the individual of whom I spoke (the individual +is you) cast upon the coupons a look +which made me cold. I thought to myself: 'This +man looks as if he is meditating some bad deed.'"</p> + +<p>"That is to say," brusquely said Dantin, who +had listened with frowning brows and with an +angry expression, "that Mme. Moniche accuses me +of having murdered M. Rovère!"</p> + +<p>"You are in too much haste. Mme. Moniche +has not said that precisely. She was only surprised—surprised +and frightened—at your expression +as you looked at the deeds, bills and +coupons."</p> + +<p>"Those coupons," asked Dantin rather anxiously, +"have they, then, been stolen?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that we know nothing about," and the +Magistrate smiled.</p> + +<p>"One has found in Rovère's safe in the neighborhood +of 460,000 francs in coupons, city of Paris +bonds, shares in mining societies, rent rolls; but +nothing to prove that there was before the assassination +more than that sum."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 119]</span> +"Had it been forced open?"</p> + +<p>"No; but anyone familiar with the dead man, a +friend who knew the secret of the combination of +the safe, the four letters forming the word, could +have opened it without trouble."</p> + +<p>Among these words Dantin heard one which +struck him full in the face—"friend." M. Ginory +had pronounced it in an ordinary tone, but Dantin +had seized and read in it a menace. For a moment +the man who was being questioned felt a peculiar +sensation. It seemed to him one day when he had +been almost drowned during a boating party that +same agony had seized him; it seemed that he had +fallen into some abyss, some icy pool, which was +paralyzing him. Opposite to him the Examining +Magistrate experienced a contrary feeling. The +caster of a hook and line feels a similar sensation; +but it was intensified a hundred times in the Magistrate, +a fisher of truth, throwing the line into a +human sea, the water polluted, red with blood and +mixed with mud.</p> + +<p>A friend! A friend could have abused the dead +man's secret and opened that safe! And that friend—what +name did he bear? Whom did M. Ginory +wish to designate? Dantin, in spite of his <i>sang +froid</i>, experienced a violent temptation to ask the +man what he meant by those words. But the +strange sensation which this interview caused him +increased. It seemed to him that he had been +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 120]</span> +there a long time—a very long time since he had +crossed that threshold—and that this little room, +separated from the world like a monk's cell, had +walls thick enough to prevent any one from hearing +anything outside. He felt as if hypnotized by that +man, who at first had met him with a pleasant air, +and who now bent upon him those hard eyes. +Something doubtful, like vague danger, surrounded +him, menaced him, and he mechanically followed the +gesture which M. Ginory made as he touched the +ivory button of an electric bell, as if on this gesture +depended some event of his life. A guard entered. +M. Ginory said to him in a short tone: "Have the +notes been brought?"</p> + +<p>"M. Bernardet has just brought them to me, +Monsieur le Juge."</p> + +<p>"Give them to me!" He then added: "Is Monsieur +Bernardet here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Monsieur le Juge."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>Jacques Dantin remembered the little man with +whom he had talked in the journey from the house +of death to the tomb, where he had heard some one +call "Bernardet." He did not know at the time, +but the name had struck him. Why did his presence +seem of so much importance to this Examining +Magistrate? And he looked, in his turn, at M. +Ginory, who, a little near-sighted, was bending his +head, with its sandy hair, its bald forehead, on which +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 121]</span> +the veins stood out like cords, over his notes, which +had been brought to him. Interesting notes—important, +without doubt—for, visibly satisfied, M. +Ginory allowed a word or two to escape him: +"Good! Yes—Yes—Fine! Ah! Ah!—Very +good!" Then suddenly Dantin saw Ginory raise +his head and look at him—as the saying is—in the +white of the eyes. He waited a moment before +speaking, and suddenly put this question, thrust +at Dantin like a knife-blow:</p> + +<p>"Are you a gambler, as I find?"</p> + +<p>The question made Jacques Dantin fairly bound +from his chair. A gambler! Why did this man +ask him if he was a gambler? What had his habits, +his customs, his vices even, to do with this +cause for which he had been cited, to do with Rovère's +murder?</p> + +<p>"You are a gambler," continued the Examining +Magistrate, casting from time to time a keen glance +toward his notes. "One of the inspectors of gambling +dens saw you lose at the Cercle des Publicistes +25,000 francs in one night."</p> + +<p>"It is possible; the only important point is that +I paid them!" The response was short, crisp, +showing a little irritation and stupefaction.</p> + +<p>"Assuredly," said the Judge. "But you have +no fortune. You have recently borrowed a considerable +sum from the usurers in order to pay for +some losses at the Bourse."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 122]</span> +Dantin became very pale, his lips quivered, and +his hands trembled. These signs of emotion did +not escape the eyes of M. Ginory nor the registrar's.</p> + +<p>"Is it from your little notes that you have +learned all that?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," M. Ginory replied. "We have +been seeking for some hours for accurate information +concerning you; started a sort of diary or +rough draught of your biography. You are fond +of pleasure. You are seen, in spite of your age—I +pray you to pardon me, there is no malice in the +remark: I am older than you—everywhere where +is found the famous Tout-Paris which amuses itself. +The easy life is the most difficult for those +who have no fortune. And, according to these +notes—I refer to them again—of fortune you have +none."</p> + +<p>"That is to say," interrupted Dantin, brusquely, +"it would be very possible that, in order to obtain +money for my needs, in order to steal the funds in +his iron safe, I would assassinate my friend?"</p> + +<p>M. Ginory did not allow himself to display any +emotion at the insolent tone of these words, which +had burst forth, almost like a cry. He looked +Dantin full in the face, and with his hands crossed +upon his notes, he said:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur, in a matter of criminal investigation +a Magistrate, eager for the truth ought to admit +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 123]</span> +that anything is possible, even probable, but in this +case I ought to recognize the fact that you have +not helped me in my task. A witness finds you +tête-à-tête with the victim and surprises your +trouble at the moment when you are examining +Rovère's papers. I ask what it was that happened +between you, you reply that that is your secret, +and for explanation you give me your word of +honor that it had nothing whatever to do with the +murder. You would yourself think that I was +very foolish if I insisted any longer. True, there +was no trace of any violence in the apartment, +whatever subtraction may have been made from +the safe. It appears that you are in a position to +know the combination; it appears, also, that you +are certainly in need of money; as clearly known +as it is possible to learn in a hurried inquiry such +as has been made, while you have been here. I +question you. I let you know what you ought to +know, and you fly into a passion. And note well! +it is you yourself, in your anger and your violence, +who speaks first the word of which I have not pronounced +a syllable. It is you who have jumped +straight to a logical conclusion of the suppositions +which are still defective, without doubt, but are not +the less suppositions; yes, it is you who say that +with a little logic one can certainly accuse you of +the murder of the one whom you called your +friend."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 124]</span> +Each word brought to Dantin's face an angry +or a frightened expression, and the more slowly M. +Ginory spoke, the more measured his words, emphasizing +his verbs, with a sort of professional +habit, as a surgeon touches a wound with a steel +instrument, the questioned man, put through a +sharp cross-examination, experienced a frightful +anger, a strong internal struggle, which made the +blood rush to his ears and ferocious lightnings dart +through his eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is easy, moreover," continued M. Ginory, in +a paternal tone, "for you to reduce to nothingness +all these suppositions, and the smallest expression +in regard to the rôle which you played in your last +interview with Rovère would put everything +right."</p> + +<p>"Ah! must we go back to that?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, we must go back to that! The +whole question lies there! You come to an Examining +Magistrate and tell him that there is a +secret; you speak of a third person, of recollections +of youth, of moral debts—and you are astonished +that the Judge strives to wrest the truth from +you?"</p> + +<p>"I have told it."</p> + +<p>"The whole truth?"</p> + +<p>"It has nothing to do with Rovère's murder, +and it would injure some one who knows nothing +about it. I have told you so. I repeat it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 125]</span> +"Yes," said M. Ginory, "you hold to your +enigma! Oh, well, I, the Magistrate, demand +that you reveal the truth to me. I command you +to tell it."</p> + +<p>The registrar's pen ran over the paper and +trembled as if it scented a storm. The psychological +moment approached. The registrar knew it +well—that moment—and the word which the Magistrate +would soon pronounce would be decisive.</p> + +<p>A sort of struggle began in Dantin's mind—one +saw his face grow haggard, his eyes change their +expression. He looked at the papers upon which +M. Ginory laid his fat and hairy hands; those +police notes <i>which gossiped</i>, as peasants say, in +speaking of papers or writing which they cannot +read and which denounce them. He asked himself +what more would be disclosed by those notes of the +police agents of the scandals of the club, of the +neighbors, of the porters. He passed his hands +over his forehead as if to wipe off the perspiration +or to ease away a headache.</p> + +<p>"Come, now, it is not very difficult, and I have +the right to know," said M. Ginory. After a moment +Jacques Dantin said in a strong voice: "I +swear to you, Monsieur, that nothing Rovère said +to me when I saw him the last time could assist +justice in any whatsoever, and I beg of you not to +question me further about it."</p> + +<p>"Will you answer?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 126]</span> +"I cannot, Monsieur."</p> + +<p>"The more you hesitate the more reason you +give me to think that the communication would be +grave."</p> + +<p>"Very grave, but it has nothing to do with +your investigation."</p> + +<p>"It's not for you to outline the duties of my limits +or my rights. Once more, I order you to reply."</p> + +<p>"I cannot."</p> + +<p>"You will not."</p> + +<p>"I cannot," brusquely said the man run to earth, +with accent of violence.</p> + +<p>The duel was finished.</p> + +<p>M. Ginory began to laugh, or, rather, there was +a nervous contraction of his mouth, and his sanguine +face wore a scoffing look, while a mechanical +movement of his massive jaws made him resemble +a bulldog about to bite.</p> + +<p>"Then," said he, "the situation is a very simple +one and you force me to come to the end of my +task. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," said Jacques Dantin, with the impulsive +anger of a man who stumbles over an +article which he has left there himself.</p> + +<p>"You still refuse to reply?"</p> + +<p>"I refuse. I came here as a witness. I have +nothing to reproach myself with, especially as I +have nothing to fear. You must do whatever you +choose to do."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 127]</span> +"I can," said the Magistrate, "change a citation +for appearance to a citation for retention. I will +ask you once more"——</p> + +<p>"It is useless," interrupted Dantin. "An assassin. +I! What folly! Rovère's murderer! It +seems as if I were dreaming! It is absurd, absurd, +absurd!"</p> + +<p>"Prove to me that it is absurd in truth. Do +you not wish to reply?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you all I know."</p> + +<p>"But you have said nothing of what I have demanded +of you."</p> + +<p>"It is not my secret."</p> + +<p>"Yes; there is your system. It is frequent, it +is common. It is that of all the accused."</p> + +<p>"Am I already accused?" asked Dantin, ironically.</p> + +<p>M. Ginory was silent a moment, then, slowly +taking from the drawer of his desk some paper +upon which Dantin could discern no writing this +time, but some figures, engraved in black—he knew +not what they were—the Magistrate held them between +his fingers so as to show them. He swung +them to and fro, and the papers rustled like dry +leaves. He seemed to attach great value to these +papers, which the registrar looked at from a corner +of his eye, guessing that they were the photographic +proofs which had been taken.</p> + +<p>"I beg of you to examine these proofs," said the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 128]</span> +Magistrate to Dantin. He held them out to him, +and Dantin spread them on the table (there were +four of them), then he put on his eyeglasses in +order to see better. "What is that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Look carefully," replied the Magistrate. Dantin +bent over the proofs, examined them one by +one, divined, rather than saw, in the picture which +was a little hazy, the portrait of a man; and upon +close examination began to see in the spectre a +vague resemblance.</p> + +<p>"Do you not see that this picture bears a resemblance +to you?"</p> + +<p>This time Dantin seemed the prey of some nightmare, +and his eyes searched M. Ginory's face with +a sort of agony. The expression struck Ginory. +One would have said that a ghost had suddenly +appeared to Dantin.</p> + +<p>"You say that it resembles me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Look carefully! At first the portrait is +vague; on closer examination it comes out from +the halo which surrounds it, and the person who +appears there bears your air, your features, your +characteristics"——</p> + +<p>"It is possible," said Dantin. "It seems to resemble +me; it seems as if I were looking at myself +in a pocket mirror. But what does that signify?"</p> + +<p>"That signifies—Oh! I am going to astonish +you. That signifies"—M. Ginory turned toward +his registrar: "You saw the other evening, Favarel, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 129]</span> +the experiment in which Dr. Oudin showed us +the heart and lungs performing their functions in +the thorax of a living man, made visible by the +Roentgen Rays. Well! This is not any more +miraculous. These photographs (he turned now +toward Dantin) were taken of the retina of the dead +man's eye. They are the reflection, the reproduction +of the image implanted there, the picture of the last +living being contemplated in the agony; the last +visual sensation which the unfortunate man experienced. +The retina has given to us—as a witness—the +image of the living person seen by the dead +man for the last time!"</p> + +<p>A deep silence fell upon the three men in that +little room, where one of them alone, lost his foothold +at this strange revelation. For the Magistrate +it was a decisive moment; when all had been said, +when the man having been questioned closely, +jumps at the foregone conclusion. As for the registrar, +however blasé he may have become by these +daily experiences, it was the decisive moment! the +moment when, the line drawn from the water, the +fish is landed, writhing on the hook!</p> + +<p>Jacques Dantin, with an instinctive movement, +had rejected, pushed back on the table those photographs +which burned his fingers like the cards in +which some fortune teller has deciphered the signs +of death.</p> + +<p>"Well?" asked M. Ginory.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 130]</span> +"Well!" repeated Dantin in a strangled tone, +either not comprehending or comprehending too +much, struggling as if under the oppression of a +nightmare.</p> + +<p>"How do you explain how your face, your shadow +if you prefer, was found reflected in Rovère's eyes, +and that in his agony, this was probably what he +saw; yes, saw bending over him?"</p> + +<p>Dantin cast a frightened glance around the room, +and asked himself if he was not shut up in a maniac's +cell; if the question was real; if the voice +he heard was not the voice of a dream!</p> + +<p>"How can I explain? but I cannot explain, I do +not understand, I do not know—it is madness, it is +frightful, it is foolish!"</p> + +<p>"But yet," insisted M. Ginory, "this folly, as +you call it, must have some explanation."</p> + +<p>"What do you wish to have me say? I do not +understand. I repeat, I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"What if you do not, you cannot deny your +presence in the house at the moment of Rovère's +death"——</p> + +<p>"Why cannot I deny it?" Dantin interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Because the vision is there, hidden, hazy, in the +retina; because this photograph, in which you recognized +yourself, denounces, points out, your presence +at the moment of the last agony."</p> + +<p>"I was not there! I swear that I was not there!" +Dantin fervently declared.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 131]</span> +"Then, explain," said the Magistrate.</p> + +<p>Dantin remained silent a moment, as if frightened. +Then he stammered: "I am dreaming!—I +dreaming!" and M. Ginory replied in a calm tone:</p> + +<p>"Notice that I attribute no exaggerated importance +to these proofs. It is not on them alone that +I base the accusation. But they constitute a +strange witness, very disquieting in its mute eloquence. +They add to the doubt which your desire +for silence has awakened. You tell me that you +were not near Rovère when he died. These proofs, +irrefutable as a fact, seem to prove at once the contrary. +Then, the day Rovère was assassinated +where were you?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. At home, without doubt. I +will have to think it over. At what hour was +Rovère killed?"</p> + +<p>M. Ginory made a gesture of ignorance and in a +tone of raillery said: "That! There are others +who know it better than I." And Dantin, irritated, +looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Yes," went on the Magistrate, with mocking +politeness, "the surgeons who can tell the hour in +which he was killed." He turned over his papers. +"The assassination was about an hour before midday. +In Paris, in broad daylight, at that hour, a +murder was committed!"</p> + +<p>"At that hour," said Jacques Dantin, "I was +just leaving home."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 132]</span> +"To go where?"</p> + +<p>"For a walk. I had a headache. I was going +to walk in the Champs-Elysées to cure it."</p> + +<p>"And did you, in your walk, meet any one whom +you knew?"</p> + +<p>"No one."</p> + +<p>"Did you go into some shop?"</p> + +<p>"I did not."</p> + +<p>"In short, you have no <i>alibi</i>?"</p> + +<p>The word made Dantin again tremble. He felt +the meshes of the net closing around him.</p> + +<p>"An <i>alibi</i>! Ah that! Decidedly. Monsieur, +you accuse me of assassinating my friend," he +violently said.</p> + +<p>"I do not accuse; I ask a question." And M. +Ginory in a dry tone which gradually became cutting +and menacing said: "I question you, but +I warn you that the interview has taken a bad +turn. You do not answer; you pretend to keep +secret I know not what information which concerns +us. You are not yet exactly accused. But—but—but—you +are going to be"——</p> + +<p>The Magistrate waited a moment as if to give +the man time to reflect, and he held his pen +suspended, after dipping it in the ink, as an +auctioneer holds his ivory hammer before bringing +it down to close a sale. "I am going to drop the +pen," it seemed to say. Dantin, very angry, remained +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 133]</span> +silent. His look of bravado seemed to +say: "Do you dare? If you dare, do it!"</p> + +<p>"You refuse to speak?" asked Ginory for the +last time.</p> + +<p>"I refuse."</p> + +<p>"You have willed it! Do you persist in giving +no explanation; do you entrench yourself behind I +know not what scruple or duty to honor; do you +keep to your systematic silence? For the last +time, do you still persist in this?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing—nothing—nothing to tell +you!" Dantin cried in a sort of rage.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well! Jacques Dantin," and the Magistrate's +voice was grave and suddenly solemn. +"You are from this moment arrested." The pen, +uplifted till this instant, fell upon the paper. It +was an order for arrest. The registrar looked at +the man. Jacques Dantin did not move. His expression +seemed vague, the fixed expression of a +person who dreams with wide-open eyes. M. +Ginory touched one of the electric buttons above +his table and pointed Dantin out to the guards, +whose shakos suddenly darkened the doorway. +"Take away the prisoner," he said shortly and +mechanically, and, overcome, without revolt, +Jacques Dantin allowed himself to be led through +the corridors of the Palais, saying nothing, comprehending +nothing, stumbling occasionally, like an +intoxicated man or a somnambulist.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 134]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">M. Bernardet</span> was triumphant. He went home +to dinner in a jubilant mood. His three little girls, +dressed alike, clasped him round the neck, all at +the same time, while Mme. Bernardet, always +fresh, smiling and gay, held up her face with its +soft, round, rosy cheeks to him.</p> + +<p>"My little ones," said the officer, "I believe that +I have done well, and that my chief will advance +me or give me some acknowledgment. I will buy +you some bracelets, my dears, if that happens. But it +is not the idea of filthy lucre which has urged me +on, and I believe that I have certainly made a great +stride in judiciary instruction, all owing to my +kodak. It would be too long an explanation and, +perhaps, a perfectly useless one. Let us go to dinner. +I am as hungry as a wolf."</p> + +<p>He ate, truly, with a good appetite, scarcely +stopped to tell how the assassin was under lock +and key. The man had been measured and had become +a number in the collection, always increasing, +of accused persons in the catalogue continued each +day for the Museum of Crime.</p> + +<p>"Ah! He is not happy," said Bernardet between +two spoonfuls of soup. "Not happy, not happy +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 135]</span> +at all! Not happy, and astonished—protesting, +moreover, his innocence, as they all do. It is customary."</p> + +<p>"But," sweetly asked good little Mme. Bernardet, +"what if he is innocent?" And the three +little girls, raising their heads, looked at their +father, as if to repeat their mother's question. The +eldest murmured: "Yes, what if mamma is right?"</p> + +<p>Bernardet shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"To hear them, if one listened to them, one +would believe them all innocent, and the crimes +would have to commit themselves. If this one is +innocent I shall be astonished, as if I should see +snow fall in Paris in June; he will have to prove +that he is innocent. These things prove themselves. +Give me some more soup, Mélanie."</p> + +<p>As Mme. Bernardet turned a ladleful of hot soup +into her husband's plate she softly asked: "Are +there no innocent ones condemned? Do you never +deceive yourself?" Bernardet did not stop eating. +"I cannot say—no one is infallible, no one—the +shrewdest deceive themselves; they are sometimes +duped. But it is rare, very rare. As well to say +that it does not happen—Lesurques, yes (and the +three little girls opened wide their large blue eyes +as at a play), the Lesurques of the Courier de +Lyon, who has made you weep so many times at +the theatre at Montmartre; one would like to revise +his trial to reinstate him, but no one has been +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 136]</span> +able to do it. I have studied his trial—by my faith, +I swear, I would condemn him still—ah! what +good soup!"</p> + +<p>"But this one to-day?" asked Mme. Bernardet; +"art thou certain? What is his name?"</p> + +<p>"Dantin—Jacques Dantin. Oh! He is a gentleman. +A very fine man, elegant, indeed. Some +Bohemian of the upper class, who evidently needed +money, and who—Rovère had some valuables in +his safe. The occasion made the thief—and there +it is."</p> + +<p>"Papa," interrupted the eldest of the three little +girls, "canst thou take us to see the trial, when he +shall be sworn?"</p> + +<p>"That depends! It is not easy! I will try—I +will ask. If thou wilt work hard—Oh, dame!" +said Bernardet, "that will be a drama!"</p> + +<p>"I will work hard."</p> + +<p>At dessert, after he had taken his coffee, he +allowed his three little girls to dip lumps of sugar +into his saucer. He threw himself into his easy +chair; he gave a sigh of satisfaction, like a man +whose daily, wearisome tasks are behind him, and +who is catching a moment's repose.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said, opening a paper which his wife +had placed on a table near him, together with a +little glass of cordial sent to them by some cousins +in Burgundy; "I am going to see what has happened +and what those good journalists have invented +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 137]</span> +about the affair in the Boulevard de Clichy. +It is true, it is a steeplechase between the reporters +and us. Sometimes they win the race in the mornings. +At other times, when they know nothing—ah! +Then they invent, they embroider their histories!"</p> + +<p>A petroleum lamp lighted the paper which Bernardet +unfolded and began to read.</p> + +<p>"Let us see what <i>Lutèce</i> says."</p> + +<p>He suddenly remembered what Paul Rodier had +said to him. "Read my journal!" This woman +in black, found in the province, did she really exist? +Had the novelist written a romance in order +to follow the example of his friend? He looked +over the paper to see if Paul Rodier had collaborated, +as his friend had. Bernardet skipped over +the headlines and glanced at the theatrical news. +"Politics—they are all the same to me—Ministerial +crisis—nothing new about that. That could +as well be published in yesterday's paper as in to-day's! +'The Crime of the Boulevard de Clichy'—ah! +Good! Very good! We shall see." And he +began to read. Had Paul Rodier invented all the +information to which he had treated the public? +What was certain was that the police officer +frowned and now gave strict attention to what he +was reading, as if weighing the reporter's words.</p> + +<p>Rodier had republished the biography of the ex-Consul. +M. Rovère had been mixed, in South +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 138]</span> +America, in violent dramas. He was a romantic +person, about whom more than one adventure in +Buenos Ayres was known. The reporter had +gained his information from an Argentine journal, +the <i>Prensa</i>, established in Paris, and whose editor, +in South America, had visited, intimately, the +French Consul. The appearance of a woman in +black, those visits made on fixed dates, as on +anniversaries, revealed an intimacy, a relationship +perhaps, of the murdered man with that unknown +woman. The woman was young, elegant and did +not live in Paris. Rodier had set himself to +discover her retreat, her name; and perhaps, thanks +to her, to unravel the mystery which still enveloped +the murder.</p> + +<p>"<i>Heuh!</i> That is not very precise information," +thought the police officer. But it at least awoke +Bernardet's curiosity and intelligence. It solved +no problem, but it put one. M. de Sartines's famous +"<i>search for the woman</i>" came naturally to +Paul Rodier's pen. And he finished the article +with some details about Jacques Dantin, the intimate, +the only friend of Louis Pièrre Rovère; and +the reporter, when he had written this, was still +ignorant that Dantin was under arrest.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," said Bernardet to himself, "he +will give us Dantin's biography. He tells me nothing +new in his report. And yet"——He folded up +the paper and laid it on the table, and while sipping +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 139]</span> +his cordial he thought of that mysterious visitor—the +woman in black—and told himself that +truly the trail must be there. He would see Moniche +and his wife again; he would question them; +he would make a thorough search.</p> + +<p>"But what for? We have the guilty man. It +is a hundred to one that the assassin is behind bars. +The woman might be an accomplice."</p> + +<p>Then Bernardet, filled with passion for his profession, +rather than vanity—this artist in a police +sense; this lover of art for art's sake—rubbed his +hands and silently applauded himself because he +had insisted, and, as it were, compelled M. Ginory +and the doctors to adopt his idea. He, the humble, +unknown sub-officer, standing back and simply +striving to do his duty, had influenced distinguished +persons as powerful as magistrates and members of +the Academy. They had obeyed his suggestion. +The little Bernardet felt that he had done a glorious +deed. He had experienced a strong conviction, +which would not be denied. He had proved that +what had been considered only a chimera was a +reality. He had accomplished a seeming impossibility. +He had evoked the dead man's secret even +from the tomb.</p> + +<p>"And M. Ginory thinks that it will not help his +candidature at the Academy? He will wear the +green robe, and he will owe it to me. There are +others who owe me something, too."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 140]</span> +With his faculty for believing in his dreams, of +seeing his visions appear, realized and living—a +faculty which, in such a man, seemed like the +strange hallucination of a poet—Bernardet did not +doubt for a moment the reality of this phantom +which had appeared in the retina of the eye. It +was nothing more, that eye removed by the surgeon's +scalpel, than an avenging mirror. It accused, +it overwhelmed! Jacques Dantin was found +there in all the atrocity of his crime.</p> + +<p>"When I think, when I think that they did not +wish to try the experiment. It is made now!" +thought Bernardet.</p> + +<p>M. Ginory had strongly recommended that all +that part of the examination should not be made +public. Absolute silence was necessary. If the +press could have obtained the slightest information, +every detail of the experiment would have become +public property, and the account would have been +embellished and made as fantastic as possible. +This would have been a deep mine for Edgar A. +Poe, who would have worked that lode well and +made the Parisians shudder. How the ink would +have been mixed with Rovère's blood! It was +well understood that if the suspected man would in +the end confess his guilt, the result of the singular +scientifically incredible experiment should be made +known. But until then absolute silence. Every +thing which had been said and done around the dissecting +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 141]</span> +table at the Morgue, or in the Examining +Magistrate's room, would remain a secret.</p> + +<p>But would Dantin confess?</p> + +<p>The next day after M. Ginory had put him under +arrest Bernardet had gone to the Palais for news. +He wished to consult his chief about the "Woman +in Black," to ask him what he thought of the +article which had been published in the paper by +Paul Rodier. M. Leriche attached no great importance +to it.</p> + +<p>"A reporter's information. Very vague. There +is always a woman, <i>parbleu!</i> in the life of every +man. But did this one know Dantin? She seems +to me simply an old, abandoned friend, and who +came occasionally to ask aid of the old boy"——</p> + +<p>"The woman noticed by Moniche is young," said +Bernardet.</p> + +<p>"Abandoned friends are often young," M. Leriche +replied, visibly enchanted with his observation.</p> + +<p>As for Dantin, he still maintained his obstinate +silence. He persisted in finding iniquitous an +arrest for which there was no motive, and he kept +the haughty, almost provoking attitude of those +whom the Chief called the greatest culprits.</p> + +<p>"Murderers in redingotes believe that they have +sprung from Jupiter's thigh, and will not admit +that any one should be arrested except those who +wear smocks and peaked hats. They believe in an +aristocracy and its privileges, and threaten to have +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 142]</span> +us removed—you know that very well, Bernardet. +Then, as time passes, they become, in a measure, +calm and meek as little lambs; then they whimper +and confess. Dantin will do as all the others have +done. For the moment he howls about his innocence, +and will threaten us, you will see, with a +summons from the Chamber. That is of no importance."</p> + +<p>The Chief then gave the officer some instructions. +He need not trouble himself any more, just now, +about the Dantin affair, but attend to another +matter of less importance—a trivial affair. After +the murder and his experiences at the Morgue this +matter seemed a low one to Bernardet. But each +duty has its antithesis. The police officer put into +this petty affair of a theft the same zeal, the same +sharp attention with which he had investigated the +crime of the Boulevard de Clichy. It was his profession.</p> + +<p>Bernardet started out on his quest. It was near +the Halles (markets) that he had to work this time. +The suspected man was probably one of the rascals +who prowl about day and night, living on adventures, +and without any home; sleeping under +the bridges, or in one of the hovels on the outskirts +of the Rue de Venise, where vice, distress and +crime flourished. Bernardet first questioned the +owner of the stolen property, obtained all the information +which he could about the suspected man, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 143]</span> +and, with his keen scent for a criminal aroused, he +glanced at everything—men, things, objects that +would have escaped a less practised eye. He was +walking slowly along toward the Permanence, looking +keenly at the passers-by, the articles in the +shops, the various movements in the streets, to see +if he could get a hint upon which to work.</p> + +<p>It was his habit to thus make use of his walks. +In a promenade he had more than once met a +client, past or future. The boys fled before his +piercing eyes; before this fat, jolly little man with +the mocking smile which showed under his red +mustache. This fright which he inspired made +him laugh inwardly. He knew that he was +respected, that he was feared. Among all these +passers-by who jostled him, without knowing that +he was watching them, he was a power, an unknown +but sovereign power. He walked along +with short, quick steps and watchful eyes, very +much preoccupied with this affair, thinking of the +worthless person for whom he was seeking, but he +stopped occasionally to look at the wares spread +out in some bric-a-brac shop or in some book store +window. This also was his habit and his method. +He ran his eye over the illustrated papers lying in +a row in front; over the Socialistic placards, the +song books. He kept himself <i>au courant</i> with +everything which was thought, seen, proclaimed +and sung.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 144]</span> +"When one governs," thought Bernardet, "one +ought to have the habit of going afoot in the street. +One can learn nothing from the depths of a coupé, +driven by a coachman wearing a tri-colored cockade." +He was going to the Préfecture, the Permanence, +when in the Rue des Bons-Enfants he +was instinctively attracted to a shop window +where rusty old arms, tattered uniforms, worn +shakos, garments without value, smoky pictures, +yellowed engravings and chance ornaments, rare +old copies of books, old romances, ancient books, +with eaten bindings, a mass of dissimilar objects—lost +keys, belt buckles, abolished medals, battered +sous—were mixed together in an oblong space as +in a sort of trough. On either side of this shop +window hung some soiled uniforms, a Zouave's +vest, an Academician's old habit, lugubrious with +its embroideries of green, a soiled costume which +had been worn by some Pierrot at the Carnival. +It was, in all its sad irony, the vulgar "hand-me-down +that!" which makes one think of that other +Morgue where the clothing has been rejected by the +living or abandoned by the dead.</p> + +<p>Bernardet was neither of a melancholy temperament +nor a dreamer, and he did not give much +time to the tearful side of the question, but he was +possessed of a ravenous curiosity, and the sight, +however frequent, of that shop window always attracted +him. With, moreover, that sort of magnetism +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 145]</span> +which the searchers, great or small, intuitively +feel—a collector of knick-knacks, discoverers of unknown +countries, book worms bent over the volumes +at four sous apiece, or chemists crouched +over a retort—Bernardet had been suddenly attracted +by a portrait exposed as an object rarer +than the others, in the midst of this detritus of +abandoned luxury or of past military glory.</p> + +<p>Yes, among the tobacco boxes, the belt buckles, +the Turkish poniards, watches with broken cases, +commonplace Japanese ornaments, a painting, oval +in form, lay there—a sort of large medallion without +a frame, and at first sight, by a singular attraction, +it drew and held the attention of the +police officer.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Bernardet out loud, "but this is +singular."</p> + +<p>He leaned forward until his nose touched the +cold glass, and peered fixedly at the picture. This +painting, as large as one's hand, was the portrait +of a man, and Bernardet fully believed at the first +look he recognized the person whom the painter +had reproduced.</p> + +<p>As his shadow fell across the window Bernardet +could not distinctly see the painting, for it was not +directly in the front line of articles displayed, and +he stepped to one side to see if he could get a better +view. Assuredly, there could be no doubt, the +oval painting was certainly the portrait of Jacques +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 146]</span> +Dantin, now accused of a crime. There was the +same high forehead, the pointed beard, of the same +color; the black redingote, tightly buttoned up and +edged at the neck with the narrow line of a white +linen collar, giving, in resembling a doublet, to +this painting, the air of a trooper, of a swordsman, +of a Guisard (a partisan of the Duke of Guise), of +the time of Clouet.</p> + +<p>Something of a connoisseur in painting, without +doubt, in his quality of amateur photographer, +much accustomed to criticise a portrait if it was +not a perfect likeness, Bernardet found in this +picture a startling resemblance to Jacques Dantin; +it was the very man himself! He appeared there, +his thin face standing out from its greenish-black +sombre background; the poise of the head displayed +the same vigor as in the original; the clear-cut +features looked energetic, and the skin had the +same pallor which was characteristic of Dantin's +complexion. This head, admirably painted, displayed +an astonishing lifelike intensity. It had +been done by a master hand, no doubt of that. +And although in this portrait Jacques Dantin +looked somewhat younger—for instance, the hair +and pointed beard showed no silvery streaks in +them—the resemblance was so marvelous that Bernardet +immediately exclaimed: "It is he!"</p> + +<p>And most certainly it was Jacques Dantin himself. +The more the officer examined it, the more +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 147]</span> +convinced he became that this was a portrait of +the man whom he had accompanied to the cemetery +and to prison. But how could this picture have +come into this bric-a-brac shop, and of whom could +the dealer have obtained it? A reply to this would +probably not be very difficult to obtain, and the +police officer pushed back the door and found himself +in the presence of a very large woman, with a +pale, puffy face, which was surrounded by a lace +cap. Her huge body was enveloped in a knitted +woollen shawl. She wore spectacles.</p> + +<p>Bernardet, without stopping to salute her, +pointed out the portrait and asked to see it. When +he held it in his hands he found the resemblance +still more startling. It was certainly Jacques +Dantin! The painting was signed "P. B., Bordeaux, +1871." It was oval in shape; the frame +was gone; the edge was marked, scratched, marred, +as if the frame had been roughly torn from the +picture.</p> + +<p>"Have you had this portrait a long time?" he +asked of the shop woman.</p> + +<p>"I put it in the window to-day for the first time," +the huge woman answered. "Oh, it is a choice +bit. It was painted by a wicked one."</p> + +<p>"Who brought it here?"</p> + +<p>"Some one who wished to sell it. A passer-by. +If it would interest you to know his name"—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 148]</span>— +"Yes, certainly, it would interest me to know +it," Bernardet replied.</p> + +<p>The shop woman looked at Bernardet defiantly +and asked this question:</p> + +<p>"Do you know the man whose portrait that is?"</p> + +<p>"No. I do not know him. But this resembles +one of my relatives. It pleases me. How much +is it?"</p> + +<p>"A hundred francs," said the big woman.</p> + +<p>Bernardet suppressed at the same time a sudden +start and a smile.</p> + +<p>"A hundred francs! <i>Diable!</i> how fast you go. +It is worth sous rather than francs."</p> + +<p>"That!" cried the woman, very indignant. +"That? But look at this material, this background. +It is famous, I tell you—I took it to an +expert. At the public sale it might, perhaps, +bring a thousand francs. My idea is that it is the +picture of some renowned person. An actor or a +former Minister. In fact, some historic person."</p> + +<p>"But one must take one's chance," Bernardet +replied in a jeering tone. "But one hundred +francs is one hundred francs. Too much for me. +Who sold you the painting?"</p> + +<p>The woman went around behind the counter and +opened a drawer, from which she took a note book, +in which she kept a daily record of her sales. +She turned over the leaves.</p> + +<p>"November 12, a small oval painting bought"—She +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 149]</span> +readjusted her spectacles as if to better decipher +the name.</p> + +<p>"I did not write the name myself; the man +wrote it himself." She spelled out:</p> + +<p>"Charles—Charles Breton—Rue de la Condamine, +16"——</p> + +<p>"Charles Breton," Bernardet repeated; "who +is this Charles Breton? I would like to know if +he painted this portrait, which seems like a family +portrait and has come to sell it"——</p> + +<p>"You know," interrupted the woman, "that that +often happens. It is business. One buys or one +sells all in good time."</p> + +<p>"And this Breton; how old was he?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, young. About thirty years old. Very +good looking. Dark, with a full beard."</p> + +<p>"Did anything about him especially strike you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing!" The woman shortly replied; she +had become tired of these questions and looked at +the little man with a troubled glance.</p> + +<p>Bernardet readily understood; and assuming a +paternal, a beaming air, he said with his sweet +smile:</p> + +<p>"I will not <i>fence</i> any more; I will tell you the +truth. I am a Police Inspector, and I find that +this portrait strangely resembles a man whom we +have under lock and key. You understand that it +is very important I should know all that is to be +ascertained about this picture."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 150]</span> +"But I have told you all I know, Monsieur," said +the shopkeeper. "Charles Breton, Rue de la Condamine, +16; that is the name and address. I paid +20 francs for it. There is the receipt—read it, I +beg. It is all right. We keep a good shop. +Never have we, my late husband and I, been +mixed with anything unlawful. Sometimes the +bric-a-brac is soiled, but our hands and consciences +have always been clean. Ask any one along the +street about the Widow Colard. I owe no one and +every one esteems me"——</p> + +<p>The Widow Colard would have gone on indefinitely +if Bernardet had not stopped her. She +had, at first mention of the police, suddenly turned +pale, but now she was very red, and her anger displayed +itself in a torrent of words. He stemmed +the flood of verbs.</p> + +<p>"I do not accuse you, Mme. Colard, and I have +said only what I wished to say. I passed by chance +your shop; I saw in the window a portrait which resembled +some one I knew. I ask you the price and +I question you about its advent into your shop. +There is nothing there which concerns you personally. +I do not suspect you of receiving stolen +goods; I do not doubt your good faith. I repeat +my question. How much do you want for this +picture?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty francs, if you please. That is what it +cost me. I do not wish to have it draw me into +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 151]</span> +anything troublesome. Take it for nothing, if that +pleases you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all! I intend to pay you. Of what +are you thinking, Mme. Colard?"</p> + +<p>The shopwoman had, like all people of a certain +class, a horror of the police. The presence of a +police inspector in her house seemed at once a dishonor +and a menace. She felt herself vaguely under +suspicion, and she felt an impulse to shout aloud +her innocence.</p> + +<p>Always smiling, the good man, with a gesture +like that of a prelate blessing his people, endeavored +to reassure her, to calm her. But he could +do nothing with her. She would not be appeased. +In the long run this was perhaps as well, for she +unconsciously, without any intention of aiding justice, +put some clews into Bernardet's hands which +finally aided him in tracing the man.</p> + +<p>Mme. Colard still rebelled. Did they think she +was a spy, an informer? She had never—no, +never—played such a part. She did not know the +young man. She had bought the picture as she +bought any number of things.</p> + +<p>"And what if they should cut off his head because +he had confidence in entering my shop—I +should never forgive myself, never!"</p> + +<p>"It is not going to bring Charles Breton to the +scaffold. Not at all, not at all. It is only to find +out who he is, and of whom he obtained this portrait. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 152]</span> +Once more—did nothing in his face strike +you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing!" Mme. Colard responded.</p> + +<p>She reflected a moment.</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes; perhaps. The shape of his hat. A +felt hat with wide brim, something like those worn +in South America or Kareros. You know, the kind +they call sombrero. The only thing I said to myself +was, 'This is probably some returned traveler,' +and if I had not seen at the bottom of the picture, +Bordeaux, I should have thought that this might +be the portrait of some Spaniard, some Peruvian."</p> + +<p>Bernardet looked straight into Mme. Colard's +spectacles and listened intently, and he suddenly +remembered what Moniche had said of the odd appearance +of the man who had, like the woman in +black, called on M. Rovère.</p> + +<p>"Some accomplice!" thought Bernardet.</p> + +<p>He again asked Mme. Colard the price of the +picture.</p> + +<p>"Anything you please," said the woman, still +frightened. Bernardet smiled.</p> + +<p>"Come! come! What do you want for it? +Fifty francs, eh? Fifty?"</p> + +<p>"Away with your fifty francs! I place it at +your disposal for nothing, if you need it."</p> + +<p>Bernardet paid the sum he had named. He had +always exactly, as if by principle, a fifty-franc note +in his pocketbook. Very little money; a few white +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 153]</span> +pieces, but always this note in reserve. One +could never tell what might hinder him in his researches. +He paid, then, this note, adding that in +all probability Mme. Colard would soon be cited +before the Examining Magistrate to tell him about +this Charles Breton.</p> + +<p>"I cannot say anything else, for I do not know +anything else," said the huge widow, whose breast +heaved with emotion.</p> + +<p>She wrapped up the picture in a piece of silk +paper, then in a piece of newspaper, which chanced +to be the very one in which Paul Rodier had +published his famous article on "The Crime of the +Boulevard de Clichy." Bernardet left enchanted +with his "find," and repeated over and over to +himself: "It is very precious! It is a tid-bit!"</p> + +<p>Should he keep on toward the Préfecture to +show this "find" to his Chief, or should he go at +once to hunt up Charles Breton at the address he +had given?</p> + +<p>Bernardet hesitated a moment, then he said to +himself that, in a case like this, moments were +precious; an hour lost was time wasted, and that +as the address which Breton had given was not far +away, he would go there first. "Rue de la Condamine, +16," that was only a short walk to such a +tramper as he was. He had good feet, a sharp eye +and sturdy legs; he would soon be at the Batignolles. +He had taken some famous tramps in his +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 154]</span> +time, notably one night when he had scoured Paris +in pursuit of a malefactor. This, he admitted, had +wearied him a little; but this walk from the Avenue +des Bons-Enfants to the Rue de la Condamine +was but a spurt. Would he find that a false name +and a false address had been given? This was but +the infancy of art. If, however, he found that this +Charles Breton really did live at that address and +that he had given his true name, it would probably +be a very simple matter to obtain all the information +he desired of Jacques Dantin.</p> + +<p>"What do I risk? A short walk," thought Bernardet, +"a little fatigue—that can be charged up +to Profit and Loss."</p> + +<p>He hurried toward the street and number given. +It was a large house, several stories high. The +concierge was sweeping the stairs, having left a +card bearing this inscription tacked on the front +door. "The porter is on the staircase." Bernardet +hastened up the stairs, found the man and +questioned him. There was no Charles Breton in +the house; there never had been. The man who +sold the portrait had given a false name and address. +Vainly did the police officer describe the +individual who had visited Mme. Colard's shop. +The man insisted that he had never seen any one +who in the least resembled this toreador in the big +felt hat. It was useless to insist! Mme. Colard +had been deceived. And now, how to find, in this +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 155]</span> +immense city of Paris, this bird of passage, who +had chanced to enter the bric-a-brac shop. The +old adage of "the needle in the haystack" came to +Bernardet's mind and greatly irritated him. But, +after all, there had been others whom he looked +for; there had been others whom he had found, and +probably he might still be able to find another trail. +He had a collaborator who seldom failed him—Chance! +It was destiny which often aided him.</p> + +<p>Bernardet took an omnibus in his haste to return +to his Chief. He was anxious to show his +"find" to M. Leriche. When he reached the Préfecture +he was immediately received. He unwrapped +the portrait and showed it to M. Leriche.</p> + +<p>"But that is Dantin!" cried the Chief.</p> + +<p>"Is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Without doubt! Dantin when younger, but +assuredly Dantin! And where did you dig this +up?"</p> + +<p>Bernardet related his conversation with Mme. +Colard and his fruitless visit to the Rue de la +Condamine.</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind," said M. Leriche. "This discovery +is something. The man who sold this picture +and Dantin are accomplices. Bravo, Bernardet! +We must let M. Ginory know."</p> + +<p>The Examining Magistrate was, like the Chief +and Bernardet, struck with the resemblance of the +portrait to Dantin. His first move would be to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 156]</span> +question the prisoner about the picture. He would +go at once to Mazas. M. Leriche and Bernardet +should accompany him. The presence of the police +spy might be useful, even necessary.</p> + +<p>The Magistrate and the Chief entered a fiacre, +while Bernardet mounted beside the driver. Bernardet +said nothing, although the man tried to obtain +some information from him. After one or two +monosyllabic answers, the driver mockingly asked:</p> + +<p>"Are you going to the Souricière (trap) to tease +some fat rat?"</p> + +<p>M. Ginory and M. Leriche talked together of the +<i>Walkyrie</i>, of Bayreuth; and the Chief asked, +through politeness, for news about his candidature +to the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences.</p> + +<p>"Do not let us talk of the Institute," the Magistrate +replied. "It is like the beginning of a hunt; +to sigh for the prize that brings unhappiness."</p> + +<p>The sombre pile, the Mazas, opened its doors to +the three men. They traversed the long corridors, +with the heavy air which pervaded them in spite +of all efforts to the contrary, to a small room, +sparsely furnished (a table, a few chairs, a glass +bookcase), which served as an office for the Examining +Magistrates when they had to hold any interviews +with the prisoners.</p> + +<p>The guardian-in-chief walked along with M. +Ginory, M. Leriche followed them, and Bernardet +respectfully brought up the rear.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 157]</span> +"Bring in Jacques Dantin!" M. Ginory ordered. +He seated himself at the table. M. +Leriche took a chair at one side, and Bernardet +stood near the little bookcase, next the only window +in the room.</p> + +<p>Jacques Dantin soon appeared, led in by two +guards in uniform. He was very pale, but still retained +his haughty air and his defiant attitude. +The Magistrate saluted him with a slight movement +of the head, and Dantin bowed, recognizing +in Bernardet the man with whom he had walked +and conversed behind Rovère's funeral car.</p> + +<p>"Be seated, Dantin," M. Ginory said, "and explain +to me, I beg, all you know about this portrait. +You ought to recognize it."</p> + +<p>He quickly held the picture before Dantin's eyes, +wishing to scrutinize his face to see what sudden +emotion it would display. Seeing the portrait, +Dantin shivered and said in a short tone: "It is +a picture which I gave to Rovère."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said M. Ginory, "you recognize it +then?"</p> + +<p>"It is my portrait," Jacques Dantin declared. +"It was made a long time ago. Rovère kept it in +his salon. How did it come here?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" again said the Magistrate. "Explain +that to me!"</p> + +<p>M. Ginory seemed to wish to be a little ironical. +But Dantin roughly said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 158]</span> +"M. le Juge, I have nothing to explain to you. +I understand nothing, I know nothing. Or, +rather, I know that in your error—an error which +you will bitterly regret some day or other, I am +sure—you have arrested me, shut me up in Mazas; +but that which I can assure you of is, that I have +had nothing, do you hear, nothing whatever to do +with the murder of my friend, and I protest with +all my powers against your processes."</p> + +<p>"I comprehend that!" M. Ginory coldly replied. +"Oh! I understand all the disagreeableness +of being shut up within four walls. But then, +it is very simple! In order to go out, one has only +to give to the one who has a right to know the explanations +which are asked. Do you still persist +in your system? Do you still insist on keeping, I +know not what secret, which you will not reveal to +us?"</p> + +<p>"I shall keep it, Monsieur, I have reflected," +said Dantin. "Yes, I have reflected, and in the +solitude to which you have forced me I have examined +my conscience." He spoke with firmness, +less violently than at the Palais de Justice, and +Bernardet's penetrating little eyes never left his +face; neither did the Magistrate's, nor the +Chief's.</p> + +<p>"I am persuaded," Dantin continued, "that this +miserable mistake cannot last long, and you will +recognize the truth. I shall go out, at least from +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 159]</span> +here, without having abused a confidence which +one has placed in me and which I intend to preserve."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said M. Ginory, "perfectly, I know your +system. You will hold to it. It is well. Now, +whose portrait is that?"</p> + +<p>"It is mine!"</p> + +<p>"By whom do you think it was possible that it +could have been sold in the bric-a-brac shop where +it was found."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about it. Probably by the one +who found it or stole it from M. Rovère's apartment, +and who is probably, without the least doubt, +his assassin."</p> + +<p>"That seems very simple to you?"</p> + +<p>"It seems very logical."</p> + +<p>"Suppose that this should be the exact truth, +that does not detract from the presumption which +implicates you, and from Mme. Moniche's deposition, +which charges you"——</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know. The open safe, the papers +spread out, the tête-à-tête with Rovère, when the +concierge entered the room—that signifies nothing!"</p> + +<p>"For you, perhaps! For Justice it has a tragic +signification. But let us return to the portrait. +It was you, I suppose, who gave it to Rovère?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was I," Dantin responded. "Rovère +was an amateur in art, moreover, my intimate +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 160]</span> +friend. I had no family, I had an old friend, a +companion of my youth, whom I thought would +highly prize that painting. It is a fine one—it is +by Paul Baudry."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said M. Ginory. "P. B. Those are +Baudry's initials?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. After the war—when I had done +my duty like others, I say this without any intention +of defending myself—Paul Baudry was at +Bordeaux. He was painting some portraits on +panels, after Holbein—Edmond About's among +others. He made mine. It is this one which I gave +Rovère—the one you hold in your hands."</p> + +<p>The Magistrate looked at the small oval painting +and M. Leriche put on his eyeglasses to examine +the quality of the painting. A Baudry!</p> + +<p>"What are these scratches around the edge as +if nails had been drawn across the places?" M. +Ginory asked. He held out the portrait to Dantin.</p> + +<p>"I do not know. Probably where the frame was +taken off."</p> + +<p>"No, no! They are rough marks; I can see +that. The picture has been literally torn from the +frame. You ought to know how this panel was +framed."</p> + +<p>"Very simply when I gave it to Rovère. A +narrow gilt frame, nothing more."</p> + +<p>"Had Rovère changed the frame?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 161]</span> +"I do not know. I do not remember. When I +was at his apartment the last few times I do not +remember to have seen the Baudry. I have +thought of it, but I have no recollection of it."</p> + +<p>"Then you cannot furnish any information +about the man who sold this portrait?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever!"</p> + +<p>"We might bring you face to face with that woman."</p> + +<p>"So be it! She certainly would not recognize +me."</p> + +<p>"In any case, she will tell us about the man who +brought the portrait to her."</p> + +<p>"She might describe him to me accurately, and +even paint him for me," said Dantin quickly. "She +can neither insinuate that I know him nor prove to +you that I am his accomplice. I do not know who +he is nor from where he comes. I was even ignorant +of his existence myself a quarter of an hour +ago."</p> + +<p>"I have only to remand you to your cell," said +the Magistrate. "We will hunt for the other +man."</p> + +<p>Dantin, in his turn, said in an ironical tone: +"And you will do well!"</p> + +<p>M. Ginory made a sign. The guards led out +their prisoner. Then, looking at the Chief, while +Bernardet still remained standing like a soldier +near the window, the Magistrate said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 162]</span> +"Until there are new developments, Dantin will +say nothing. We must look for the man in the +sombrero."</p> + +<p>"Necessarily!" said M. Leriche.</p> + +<p>"The needle! The needle! And the hay stack!" +thought Bernardet.</p> + +<p>The Chief, smiling, turned toward him. "That +belongs to you, Bernardet."</p> + +<p>"I know it well," said the little man, "but it is +not easy. Oh! It is not easy at all."</p> + +<p>"Bah! you have unearthed more difficult things +than that. Do it up brown! There is only one +clew—the hat"——</p> + +<p>"They are not uncommon, those hats, Monsieur +Leriche—they are not very bad hats. But yet it +is a clew—if we live, we shall see."</p> + +<p>He stood motionless between the bookcase +and the window, like a soldier carrying arms, +while M. Ginory, shaking his head, said to the +chief: "And this Dantin, what impression did he +make on you?"</p> + +<p>"He is a little crack-brained!" replied the +Chief.</p> + +<p>"Certainly! But guilty—you believe him +guilty?"</p> + +<p>"Without doubt!"</p> + +<p>"Would you condemn him?" he quickly asked +as he gazed searchingly at the Chief. M. Leriche +hesitated.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 163]</span> +"Would you condemn him?" M. Ginory repeated, +insistently.</p> + +<p>The Chief still hesitated a moment, glanced toward +the impassive Bernardet without being able to read +his face, and he said:</p> + +<p>"I do not know."</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 164]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">I do</span> not know," thought Bernardet as he returned +home. "What one knows very well indeed, +what one cannot deny, oh, that would be impossible! +is that on the retina of the dead man's eye, reflected +there at the supreme moment of the agony, +is found the image of this Dantin, his face, his +features; this man, in a word, denounced by this +witness which is worth all other witnesses in the +world! This assassinated man cast a last look +upon his murderer as he called for aid; a last cry +for 'Help!' in the death rattle!—and this man +says: 'I do not know!' But the dead man +knew; and the kodak knows, also. It has no +passion, no anger, no hate, because it registers +what passes; fixes that which is fleeting!"</p> + +<p>Bernardet was obstinate in his conviction. He +was perfectly rooted in it. What if he had not +persisted in believing that photography would +reveal the truth? What weighty reason, what +even acceptable one was there which obliged +Dantin to remain silent in the presence of the Examining +Magistrate and his registrar—in the secret +interview of an examination—when in order to +escape a prison, an accusation, he had only to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 165]</span> +speak two words? But if Dantin said nothing, +was it because he had nothing to say? If he had +given no explanation, was it because he had none +to give? An innocent man does not remain silent. +If at the instant when M. Ginory pressed the +ivory button the other day, if the man had been +able to defend himself, would he not have done +it? One knew the secret reason of criminals +for keeping silent. Their best reason is their +guilt.</p> + +<p>Only, it seemed now certain that Dantin, although +guilty, had an accomplice. Yes, without +doubt, the man with the sombrero, the seller +of the portrait. Where could he now be in hiding?</p> + +<p>"Not easy," Bernardet repeated the words: +"Not easy; no, not easy at all to run him out of +his rabbit hutch."</p> + +<p>The Woman in Black, the visitor, would be another +important clue. On this side the situation +seemed a simple one. Or was this woman also an +accomplice, and would she remain silent, hidden in +the Province? Or would the death of Rovère +draw her to Paris, where she might be recognized +and become a witness for Justice?</p> + +<p>But the days passed. What was called the +mystery of the Boulevard de Clichy continued to +interest and excite the public. Violent and perplexing +Parliamentary discussions could not distract +attention from a crime committed in broad +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 166]</span> +daylight, almost as one might say, in the street, +and which made one doubt the security of the city, +the efficiency of the police. The fall of a Ministry, +predicted each morning and anticipated in advance, +could not thrust aside morbid interest in this +murder. The death of the ex-Consul was a grand +actuality!</p> + +<p>Jacques Dantin thus became a dramatic personage; +the reporters created legends about him; +some declared him guilty and brought up in support +of their conviction some anecdotes, some tales +from the clubs, given as proofs; others asked if +the suppositions were sufficiently well based to accuse +a man in advance of trial, and these latter +ardently took up his defense. Paul Rodier had +even, with much dexterity and eloquence, diplomatically +written two articles, one on either side of +the question.</p> + +<p>"It is," he said to himself, "the sure way of +having told the truth on one side or the other."</p> + +<p>Bernardet did not renounce for an instant the +hope of finding the man who had sold the picture. +It was not the first time that he had picked the +needle from a cartful of hay. Paris is large, but +this human sea has its particular currents, as the +ocean has special tides, and the police officer knew +it well. Here or there, some day he would meet +the man, cast up by the torrent like a waif.</p> + +<p>First of all, the man was probably a stranger +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 167]</span> +from some foreign land. Wearing a hat like a +Spaniard, he had not had time to change the style +of dress of the country from which he had come +in search of adventures. Bernardet haunted the +hotels, searched the registers, made conversation +with the lodgers. He found poor persons who had +come from foreign countries, but whose motives +for coming to Paris were all right. Bernardet +never stopped searching a moment; he went everywhere, +curious and prying—and it pleased him, +when he found a leisure evening, to go to some of +the strange wine shops or ale houses (called cabarets) +to find subjects for observation. These cabarets +are very numerous on the outskirts of Montmartre, +in the streets and boulevards at the foot of +the Butte. Bizarre inventions, original and disagreeable +creations, where the ingenuity of the enterprisers +sometimes made them hideous in order +to attract; to cater to the idle, and to hold the +loungers from among the higher classes. Cabarets +born of the need for novelty, which might stimulate +the blasé; the demand for something eccentric +almost to morbid irony. A <i>Danse Macabre</i> trod +to the measures of an operetta; pleasantries of the +bunglers adopting the cure-alls of the saw-bones, +and juggling with their empty heads while dreaming +the dreams of a Hamlet.</p> + +<p>Cabaret du Squelette!</p> + +<p>The announcement of the droll promises—apparitions, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 168]</span> +visions, phantoms—had often made him +smile when he passed near there to go to the Préfecture; +this wineshop, the front of which was bordered +with black, like a letter announcing a death, +and which bore, grating as it swung at the end of +an iron rod, a red lantern for a sign.</p> + +<p>His little girls, when he laughingly spoke of the +cabaret where the waiters were dressed like undertakers' +assistants, turned pale, and plump little +Mme. Bernardet, ordinarily smiling, would say +with a sigh: "Is it possible that such sacrilegious +things are permitted in the quarter?"</p> + +<p>Bernardet good-naturedly replied: "Ah, my +dear, where is the harm?"</p> + +<p>"I know what I am talking about," his good +wife said; "they are the pleasure of the unhealthy +minded. They mock at death as they mock at +everything else. Where will it all end? We shall +see it"——</p> + +<p>"Or we shall not see it," interrupted her husband, +laughingly.</p> + +<p>He went in there one evening, having a little +time to himself, as he would have gone into a +theatre. He knew something about this Cabaret du +Squelette (meaning the wine shop of the skeleton). +He found the place very droll.</p> + +<p>A small hall which had a few months before been +a common wine shop had been transformed into a +lugubrious place. The walls were painted a dead +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 169]</span> +black, and were hung with a large number of +paintings—scenes from masked balls, gondola +parades, serenades with a balcony scene, some of +the lovers' rendezvous of Venice and an ideal view +of Granada, with couples gazing at each other and +sighing in the gondolas on the lagoons, or in the +Andalusian courts—and in this strange place with +its romantic pictures, souvenirs of Musset or of +Carlo Gozzi, the tables were made in the form of +coffins with lighted candles standing upon them, +and the waiters were dressed as undertakers' assistants, +with shiny black hats trimmed with crape, +on their heads.</p> + +<p>"What poison will you drink before you die?" +asked one of the creatures of Bernardet.</p> + +<p>Bernardet sat and gazed about him. A few +"high-flyers" from the other side of Paris were +there. Here and there a thief from that quarter +sat alone at a table. Some elegants in white +cravats, who had come there in correct evening +dress, were going later, after the opera, to sup with +some première. The police officer understood very +well why the blasé came there. They wished to +jog their jaded appetites; they sought to find some +<i>piment</i>, a curry, spice to season the tameness of +their daily existence. The coffin-shaped tables +upon which they leaned their elbows amused them. +Several of them had asked for a <i>bavaroise</i>, as they +were on milk diet.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 170]</span> +They pointed out to each other the gas flaming +from the jets fashioned in the form of a broken +shin-bone.</p> + +<p>"A little patience, my friends," said a sort of +manager, who was dressed in deep mourning. +"Before long we will adjourn to the Cave of +Death!"</p> + +<p>The drinkers in white cravats shouted. Bernardet +experienced, on the contrary, what Mme. +Bernardet would have called a "creepy" sensation. +Seasoned as he was to the bloody and villainous +aspect of crime, he felt the instinctive shrinking of +a healthy and level-headed bourgeois against these +drolleries of the brain-diseased upper class and the +pleasantries of the blasé decadents.</p> + +<p>At a certain moment, and after an explanation +given by the manager, the gas was turned off, and +the lovers in the gondolas, the guitar players, the +singers of Spanish songs, the dancers infatuated +with the Moulin Rouge, changed suddenly in sinister +fashion. In place of the blond heads and rosy +cheeks, skulls appeared; the smiles became grins +which showed the teeth in their fleshless gums. +The bodies, clothed in doublets, in velvets and +satins, a moment ago, were made by some interior +illumination to change into hideous skeletons. In +his mocking tones the manager explained and commented +on the metamorphosis, adding to the funeral +spectacle the pleasantry of a buffoon.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 171]</span> +"See! diseased Parisians, what you will be on +Sunday!"</p> + +<p>The light went out suddenly; the skeletons disappeared; +the sighing lovers in the gondolas on +the lagoons of Venice reappeared; the Andalusian +sweethearts again gazed into each other's eyes and +sang their love songs. Some of the women laughed, +but the laughs sounded constrained.</p> + +<p>"Droll! this city of Paris," Bernardet thought. +He sat there, leaning back against the wall, where +verses about death were printed among the white +tears—as in those lodges of Free Masons where an +outsider is shut up in order to give him time to +make his will—when the door opened and Bernardet +saw a tall young man of stalwart and resolute mien +enter. A black, curly beard surrounded his pale +face. As he entered he cast a quick glance around +the hall, the air of which was rather thick with +cigar smoke. He seemed to be about thirty years +of age, and had the air of an artist, a sculptor, or a +painter, together with something military in his +carriage. But what suddenly struck Bernardet +was his hat, a large gray, felt hat, with a very wide +brim, like the sombreros which the bull fighters +wear.</p> + +<p>Possibly, a few people passing through Paris +might be found wearing such hats. But they +would probably be rare, and in order to find the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 172]</span> +seller of Jacques Dantin's portrait, Bernardet had +only this one clew.</p> + +<p>"Oh! such a mean, little, weak, clew! But one +must use it, just the same!" Bernardet had said.</p> + +<p>What if this young man with the strange hat +was, by chance, the unknown for whom he was +seeking? It was not at all probable. No, when +one thought of it—not at all probable. But truth +is sometimes made up of improbabilities, and Bernardet +again experienced the same shock, the instinctive +feeling that he had struck the trail, which +he felt when the young man entered the wine shop.</p> + +<p>"That hat!" murmured Bernardet, sipping his +wine and stealing glances over the rim of his glass +at the young man. The unknown seemed to play +directly into the police officer's hand. After standing +by the door a few moments, and looking about +the place, he walked over to the coffin-shaped table +at which Bernardet was seated, bringing himself +face to face with the officer. One of the waiters in +his mourning dress came to take his order, and +lighted another candle, which he placed where its +rays fell directly on the young man's face. Thus +Bernardet was able to study him at his ease. The +pale face, with its expression, uneasy and slightly +intense, struck Bernardet at once. That white +face, with its black beard, with its gleaming eyes, +was not to be passed by with a casual glance. The +waiter placed a glass of brandy before him; he +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 173]</span> +placed his elbows on the table and leaned his chin +upon his hands. He was evidently not a habitué +of the place nor a resident of the quarter. There +was something foreign about his appearance. His +glance was steady, as that of one who searches the +horizon, looks at running water, contemplates the +sea, asking for some "good luck" of the unknown.</p> + +<p>"It would be strange," thought Bernardet, "if +a simple hat and no other clew should put us upon +the track of the man for whom we are searching."</p> + +<p>At once, with the ingenuity of a master of +dramatic art, the agent began to plot, and to put +into action what lawyers, pleading and turning and +twisting a cause this way and that, call <i>an effect</i>. +He waited until the manager informed them that +they were about to pass into the Cave of Death, +and gave them all an invitation into the adjoining +hall; then, profiting by the general movement, he +approached the unknown, and, almost shoulder to +shoulder, he walked along beside him, through a +narrow, dark passage to a little room, where, on a +small stage stood, upright, an empty coffin.</p> + +<p>It was a doleful spectacle, which the Cabaret du +Squelette (the wine shop of the skeleton) offered to +its clientèle of idle loungers and morbid curiosity +seekers attracted to its halls by these exhibitions. +Bernardet knew it all very well, and he knew by +just what play of lights, what common chemical +illuminations, they gave to the lookers on the sinister +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 174]</span> +illusion of the decomposition of a corpse in +its narrow home. This phantasmagoria, to which +the people from the Boulevard came, in order to be +amused, he had seen many times in the little +theatres in the fairs at Neuilly. The proprietor +of the cabaret had explained it to him; he had been +curious and very keen about it, and so he followed +the crowd into this little hall, to look once more at +the image of a man in the coffin. He knew well to +what purpose he could put it. The place was full. +Men and women were standing about; the black +walls made the narrow place look still smaller. +Occasional bizarre pleasantries were heard and +nervous laughs rang out. Why is it, that no matter +how sceptical people may be, the idea, the proximity, +the appearance of death gives them an impression +of uneasiness, a singular sensation which +is often displayed in nervous laughs or sepulchral +drolleries?</p> + +<p>Bernardet had not left the side of the young man +with the gray felt hat. He could see his face distinctly +in the light of the little hall, and could +study it at his ease. In the shadows which lurked +about them the young man's face seemed like a +white spot. The officer's sharp eyes never left it +for a moment.</p> + +<p>The manager now asked if some one would try +the experiment. This was to step into the open +coffin—that box, as he said—"from which your +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 175]</span> +friends, your neighbors, can see you dematerialize +and return to nothingness."</p> + +<p>"Come, my friends," he continued, in his ironical +tones, "this is a fine thing; it will permit your +best friends to see you deliquesce! Are there any +married people here? It is only a question of +tasting, in advance, the pleasures of a widowhood. +Would you like to see your husband disappear, my +sister? My brother, do you wish to see your wife +decompose? Sacrifice yourselves, I beg of you! +Come! Come up here! Death awaits you!"</p> + +<p>They laughed, but here and there a laugh sounded +strident or hysterical; the laugh did not ring true, +but had the sound of cracked crystal. No one +stirred. This parody of death affected even these +hardened spectators.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, my friends, there is a cadaver belonging +to the establishment which we can use. It is +a pity! You may readily understand that we do +not take the dead for companions."</p> + +<p>As no one among the spectators would enter the +coffin, the manager, with a gesture, ordered one of +the supernumeraries of the cabaret to enter; from +an open door the figurant glided across the stage +and entered the coffin, standing upright. The +manager wrapped him about with a shroud, leaving +only the pale face of the pretended dead man exposed +above this whiteness. The man smiled.</p> + +<p>"He laughs, Messieurs, he laughs still!" said +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 176]</span> +the manager. "You will soon see him pay for +that laugh. '<i>Rome rit et mourut!</i>' as Bossuet +said."</p> + +<p>Some of the audience shouted applause to this +quotation from a famous author. Bernardet did +not listen; he was studying from a corner of his +eye his neighbor's face. The man gazed with a +sort of fascination at this fantastic performance +which was taking place before him. He frowned, +he bit his lips; his eyes were almost ferocious in +expression. The figurant in the coffin continued +to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Look! look keenly!" went on the manager, +"you will see your brother dematerialize after becoming +changed in color. The flesh will disappear +and you will see his skeleton. Think, think, my +brothers, this is the fate which awaits you, perhaps, +soon, on going away from here; think of the +various illnesses and deaths by accidents which +await you! Contemplate the magic spectacle offered +by the Cabaret du Squelette and remember +that you are dust and that to dust you must return! +Make, wisely, this reflection, which the intoxicated +man made to another man in like condition, +but asleep. 'And that is how I shall be on +Sunday!' While waiting, my brothers and sisters, +for nothingness, look at the dematerialization of +your contemporary if you please!"</p> + +<p>The play of lights, while the man was talking, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 177]</span> +began to throw a greenish pallor and to make spots +at first transparent upon the orbits of the eyes, +then, little by little, the spots seemed to grow +stronger, to blacken, to enlarge. The features, +lightly picked out, appeared to change gradually, +to take on gray and confused tints, to slowly disappear +as under a veil, a damp vapor which covered, +devoured that face, now unrecognizable! It has +been said that the manner in which this phenomenon +was managed was a remarkable thing; it is +true, for this human body seemed literally to dissolve +before this curious crowd, now become silent +and frightened. The work of death was accomplished +there publicly, thanks to the illusion of +lighting. The livid man who smiled a few moments +before was motionless, fixed, then passing +through some singular changes, the flesh seemed to +fall from him in——</p> + +<p>Suddenly the play of lights made him disappear +from the eyes of the spectators and they saw, +thanks to reflections made by mirrors, only a skeleton. +It was the world of spectres and the secret +of the tombs revealed to the crowd by a kind of +scientific magic lantern.</p> + +<p>Bernardet did not desire to wait longer to strike +his blow—this was the exact moment to do it—the +psychological moment!</p> + +<p>The eager look of the man in the sombrero revealed +a deep trouble. There was in this look +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 178]</span> +something more than the curiosity excited by a +novel spectacle. The muscles of his pale face +twitched as with physical suffering; in his eyes +Bernardet read an internal agony.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" thought the police officer, "the living +eye is a book which one can read, as well as a dead +man's eye."</p> + +<p>Upon the stage the lights were rendering even +more sinister the figurant who was giving to this +morbidly curious crowd the comedy of death. One +would have now thought it was one of those atrocious +paintings made in the studios of certain +Spanish painters in the <i>putridero</i> of a Valles Leal. +The flesh, by a remarkable scientific combination +of lights, was made to seem as if falling off, and +presented the horrible appearance of a corpse in a +state of decomposition. The lugubrious vision +made a very visible shudder pass over the audience. +Then Bernardet, drawing himself up to his full +height so as to get a good view of the face of this +man so much taller, and approaching as near to +him as possible, in fact, so that his elbow and upper +arm touched the young man's, he slowly, deliberately +dropped, one by one, these words:</p> + +<p>"That is about how M. Rovère ought to be +now"——</p> + +<p>And suddenly the young man's face expressed a +sensation of fright, as one sees in the face of a pedestrian +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 179]</span> +who suddenly finds that he is about to step +upon a viper.</p> + +<p>"Or how he will be soon!" added the little man, +with an amiable smile. Bernardet dissimulated +under this amiability an intense joy. Holding his +arm and elbow in an apparently careless manner +close to his neighbor as he pronounced Rovère's +name, Bernardet felt his neighbor's whole body +tremble, and that he gave a very perceptible start. +Why had he been so quickly moved by an unknown +name if it had not recalled to his mind some +frightful thought? The man might, of course, +know, as the public did, all the details of the crime, +but, with his strong, energetic face, his resolute +look, he did not appear like a person who would be +troubled by the recital of a murder, the description +of a bloody affray, or even by the frightful scene +which had just passed before his eyes in the +hall.</p> + +<p>"A man of that stamp is not chicken-hearted," +thought Bernardet. "No! no!" Hearing those +words evoked the image of the dead man, Rovère; +the man was not able to master his violent emotion, +and he trembled, as if under an electrical discharge. +The shudder had been violent, of short duration, +however, as if he had mastered his emotion by his +strong will. In his involuntary movement he had +displayed a tragic eloquence. Bernardet had seen +in the look, in the gesture, in the movement of the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 180]</span> +man's head, something of trouble, of doubt, of +terror, as in a flash of lightning in the darkness of +night one sees the bottom of a pool.</p> + +<p>Bernardet smilingly said to him:</p> + +<p>"This sight is not a gay one!"</p> + +<p>"No," the man answered, and he also attempted +to smile.</p> + +<p>He looked back to the stage, where the sombre +play went on.</p> + +<p>"That poor Rovère!" Bernardet said.</p> + +<p>The other man now looked at Bernardet as if to +read his thoughts and to learn what signification +the repetition of the same name had. Bernardet +sustained, with a naïve look, this mute interrogation. +He allowed nothing of his thoughts to be +seen in the clear, childlike depths of his eyes. He +had the air of a good man, frightened by a terrible +murder, and who spoke of the late victim as if he +feared for himself. He waited, hoping that the man +would speak.</p> + +<p>In some of Bernardet's readings he had come +across the magic rule applicable to love: "Never +go! Wait for the other to come!"—"<i>Nec ire, fac +venire</i>"—applicable also to hate, to that duel of +magnetism between the hunted man and the police +spy, and Bernardet waited for the other to "come!"</p> + +<p>Brusquely, after a silence, while on the little +stage the transformation was still going on, the man +asked in a dry tone:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 181]</span> +"Why do you speak to me of M. Rovère?"</p> + +<p>Bernardet affably replied: "I? Because every +one talks of it. It is the actuality of the moment. +I live in that quarter. It was quite near there +that it happened, the affair"——</p> + +<p>"I know!" interrupted the other.</p> + +<p>The unknown had not pronounced ten words in +questioning and replying, and yet Bernardet found +two clues simply insignificant—terrible in reality. +"I know!" was the man's reply, in a short tone, +as if he wished to push aside, to thrust away, a +troublesome thought. The tone, the sound of the +words, had struck Bernardet. But one word especially—the +word Monsieur before Rovère's name. +"Monsieur Rovère? Why did he speak to me of +Monsieur Rovère?" Bernardet thought.</p> + +<p>It seemed, then, that he knew the dead man.</p> + +<p>All the people gathered in this little hall, if +asked in regard to this murder would have said: +"Rovère!" "The Rovère affair!" "The Rovère +murder!" Not one who had not known the victim +would have said:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Rovère!"</p> + +<p>The man knew him then. This simple word, in +the officer's opinion, meant much.</p> + +<p>The manager now announced that, having become +a skeleton, the dear brother who had lent +himself to this experiment would return to his +natural state, "fresher and rosier than before." +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 182]</span> +He added, pleasantly, "A thing which does not +generally happen to ordinary skeletons!"</p> + +<p>This vulgar drollery caused a great laugh, which +the audience heartily indulged in. It made an outlet +for their pent-up feelings, and they all felt as if +they had awakened from a nightmare. The man +in the sombrero, whose pale face was paler than +before, was the only one who did not smile. He +even frowned fiercely (noted by Bernardet) when +the manager added:</p> + +<p>"You are not in the habit of seeing a dead man +resuscitated the next day. Between us, it would +keep the world pretty full."</p> + +<p>"Evidently," thought Bernardet, "my young +gentleman is ill at ease."</p> + +<p>His only thought was to find out his name, his +personality, to establish his identity and to learn +where he had spent his life, and especially his last +days. But how?</p> + +<p>He did not hesitate long. He left the place, +even before the man in the coffin had reappeared, +smiling at the audience. He glided through the +crowd, repeating, "Pardon!" "I beg pardon!" +traversed rapidly the hall where newcomers were +conversing over their beverages, and stepped out +into the street, looked up and down. A light fog +enveloped everything, and the gaslights and lights +in the shop windows showed ghostly through it. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 183]</span> +The passers-by, the cabs, the tramways, bore a +spectral look.</p> + +<p>What Bernardet was searching for was a policeman. +He saw two chatting together and walking +slowly along under the leafless trees. In three +steps, at each step turning his head to watch the +people coming out of the cabaret, he reached the +men. While speaking to them he did not take his +eyes from the door of that place where he had left +the young man in the gray felt hat.</p> + +<p>"Dagonin," he said, "you must follow me, if you +please, and 'pull me in!' I am going to pick a +drunken quarrel with a particular person. Interfere +and arrest us both. Understand?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," Dagonin replied.</p> + +<p>He looked at his comrade, who carried his hand +to his shako and saluted Bernardet.</p> + +<p>The little man who had given his directions in a +quick tone, was already far away. He stood near +the door of the cabaret gazing searchingly at each +person who came out. The looks he cast were +neither direct, menacing nor even familiar. He +had pulled his hat down to his eyebrows, and he +cast side glances at the crowd pouring from the +door of the wine shop.</p> + +<p>He was astonished that the man in the sombrero +had not yet appeared. Possibly he had stopped, +on his way out, in the front hall. Glancing through +the open door, Bernardet saw that he was right. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 184]</span> +The young man was seated at one of those coffin-shaped +oaken tables, with a glass of greenish liquor +before him. "He needs alcohol to brace him up," +growled the officer.</p> + +<p>The door was shut again.</p> + +<p>"I can wait till he has finished his absinthe," +said Bernardet to himself.</p> + +<p>He had not long to wait. After a small number +of persons had left the place, the door opened and +the man in the gray felt hat appeared, stopped on +the threshold, and, as Bernardet had done, scanned +the horizon and the street. Bernardet turned his +back and seemed to be walking away from the +wine shop, leaving the man free. With a keen +glance or two over his shoulder toward him, Bernardet +crossed the street and hurried along at a +rapid pace, in order to gain on the young man, and +by this manœuvre to find himself directly in front +of the unknown. The man seemed to hesitate, +walked quickly down the Boulevard a few steps +toward the Place Pigalle, in the direction where +Rovère's apartments were, but suddenly stopped, +turned on his heel, repassed the Cabaret du Squelette, +and went toward the Moulin Rouge, which at +first, Bernardet thought, he was about to enter. +As he stood there the vanes of the Moulin Rouge, +turning about, lighted up the windows of the opposite +buildings and made them look as if they +were on fire. At last, obeying another impulse, he +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 185]</span> +suddenly crossed the Boulevard, as if to return into +Paris, leaving Montmartre, the cabarets, and +Rovère's house behind him. He walked briskly +along, and ran against a man—a little man—whom +he had not noticed, who seemed to suddenly detach +himself from the wall, and who fell against +his breast, hiccoughing and cursing in vicious +tones.</p> + +<p>"Imbecile!"</p> + +<p>The young man wished to push away the intoxicated +man who, with hat over his eyes, clung to +him and kept repeating:</p> + +<p>"The street—the street—is it not free—the +street?"</p> + +<p>Yes, it was certainly a drunken man. Not a man +in a smock, but a little fellow, a bourgeois, with hat +askew and thick voice.</p> + +<p>"I—I am not stopping you. The street is free—I +tell you!"</p> + +<p>"Well, if it is free, I want it!"</p> + +<p>The voice was vigorous, but showed sudden anger, +a strident tone, a slight foreign accent, Spanish, +perhaps.</p> + +<p>The drunken man probably thought him insolent +for, still hiccoughing, he answered:</p> + +<p>"Oh, you want it, do you? You want it? I +want it! The king says 'we wish!' don't you +know?"</p> + +<p>With another movement, he lost his equilibrium +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 186]</span> +and half fell, his head hanging over, and +he clutched the man he held in a sudden embrace.</p> + +<p>"It is mine also—the street—you know!"</p> + +<p>With sudden violence, the man disembarrassed +himself of this caressing creature; he thrust aside +his clinging arms with a movement so quick and +strong that the intoxicated man, this time, fell, his +hat rolled into the gutter, and he lay on the sidewalk.</p> + +<p>But immediately, with a bound, he was on his +feet, and as the man went calmly on his way, he +followed him, seized his coat and clutched him so +tightly that he could not proceed.</p> + +<p>"Pardon;" he said, "you cannot go away like +that!"</p> + +<p>Then, as the light from a gas lamp fell on +the little man's face, the young man recognized +his neighbor of the cabaret, who had said to +him:</p> + +<p>"See, that is how Rovère must look!"</p> + +<p>At this moment, Dagonin and his comrade appeared +on the scene and laid vigorous hands on +them both; the young man made a quick, instinctive +movement toward his right pocket, where, +no doubt, he kept a revolver or knife. Bernardet +seized his wrist, he twisted it and said:</p> + +<p>"Do nothing rash!"</p> + +<p>The young man was very strong, but the huge +Dagonin had Herculean biceps and the other man +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 187]</span> +did not lack muscles. Fright, moreover, seemed +to paralyze this tall, young gallant, who, as he saw +that he was being hustled toward a police station, +demanded:</p> + +<p>"Have you arrested me, and why?"</p> + +<p>"First for having struck me," Bernardet replied, +still bareheaded, and to whom a gamin now +handed his soiled hat, saying to him:</p> + +<p>"Is this yours, Monsieur Bernardet?"</p> + +<p>Bernardet recognized in his own quarter! That +was glory!</p> + +<p>The man seemed to wish to defend himself and +still struggled, but one remark of Dagonin's seemed +to pacify him:</p> + +<p>"No rebellion! There is nothing serious about +your arrest. Do not make it worse."</p> + +<p>The young man really believed that it was +only a slight matter and he would be liberated at +once. The only thing that disquieted him was +that this intoxicated man, suddenly become sober, +had spoken to him as he did a few moments before +in the cabaret.</p> + +<p>The four men walked quickly along in the +shadow of the buildings, through the almost deserted +streets, where the shopkeepers were putting +out their lights and closing up their shops. +Scarcely any one who met them would have realized +that three of these men were taking the +fourth to a police station.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 188]</span> +A tri-color flag floated over a door lighted by a +red lantern; the four men entered the place and +found themselves in a narrow, warm hall, where +the agents of the police were either sleeping on +benches or reading around the stove by the light +of the gas jets above their heads.</p> + +<p>Bernardet, looking dolefully at his broken and +soiled hat, begged the young man to give his name +and address to the Chief of the Post. The young +man then quickly understood that his questioner +of the Cabaret du Squelette had caught him in a +trap. He looked at him with an expression of +violent anger—of concentrated rage.</p> + +<p>Then he said:</p> + +<p>"My name? What do you want of that? I am +an honest man. Why did you arrest me? What +does it mean?"</p> + +<p>"Your name?" repeated Bernardet.</p> + +<p>The man hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well! I am called Pradès. Does that help +you any?"</p> + +<p>The man wrote: "Pradès. P-r-a-d-è-s with an +accent. Pradès. First name?"</p> + +<p>"Charles, if you wish!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Bernardet, noticing the slight difference +in the tone of his answer. "We wish +nothing. We wish only the truth."</p> + +<p>"I have told it."</p> + +<p>Charles Pradès furnished some further information +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 189]</span> +in regard to himself. He was staying at a +hotel in the Rue de Paradis-Poissonsière, a small +hotel used by commercial travelers and merchants +of the second class. He had been in Paris only a +month.</p> + +<p>Where was he from? He said that he came from +Sydney, where he was connected with a commercial +house. Or rather he had given up the situation +to come to Paris to seek his fortune. But +while speaking of Sydney he had in his rather +rambling answers let fall the name of Buenos +Ayres, and Bernardet remembered that Buenos +Ayres was the place where M. Rovère had been +French Consul. The officer paid no attention to +this at the time. For what good? Pradès's real +examination would be conducted by M. Ginory. +He, Bernardet, was not an examining magistrate. +He was the ferret who hunted out criminals.</p> + +<p>This Pradès was stupefied, then furious, when, +the examination over, he learned that he was not +to be immediately set at liberty.</p> + +<p>What! An absurd quarrel, a collision without a +wound, in a street in Paris, was sufficient to hold a +man and make him pass the night in the station +house, with all the vagabonds of both sexes collected +there!</p> + +<p>"You may bemoan your fate to yourself to-morrow +morning!" said Bernardet.</p> + +<p>In the meantime they searched this man, who, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 190]</span> +very pale, making visibly powerful efforts to control +himself, biting his lips and his black beard, +while they examined his pocketbook, while they +looked at a Spanish knife with a short blade, which +he had (Bernardet had divined it at the time of his +arrest) in his right pocket.</p> + +<p>The pocketbook revealed nothing. It contained +some receipted weekly bills of the hotel in the Rue +de Paradis, some envelopes without letters, without +stamps and bearing the name, "Charles +Pradès, Merchant," two bank bills of 100 francs—nothing +more.</p> + +<p>Bernardet very simply asked Pradès how it was +that he had upon his person addressed letters +which he evidently had not received, as they were +not stamped. He replied:</p> + +<p>"They are not letters. They are addresses +which I gave instead of visiting cards, as I had not +had time to procure cards."</p> + +<p>"Then the addresses are in your writing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Pradès answered.</p> + +<p>The police officer looked at them again; then, +saluting the brigadier and his men, wished them +good-night, and even added a little gesture, rather +mocking, in the direction of the arrested man. +Pradès made an angry, almost menacing, movement +toward Bernardet. The guards standing +about pulled him back, while the plump, smiling +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 191]</span> +little man, caressing his sandy mustache and humming +a tune, went out into the street.</p> + +<p>As he reached the passage which led to his house +this couplet came merrily from his lips as walked +quickly along:</p> + +<p> +"Prends ton fusil, Gregoire,<br /> +Prends ta gourde pourboire,<br /> +Nos Messieurs sont partis<br /> +A la chasse aux perdrix."<br /> +</p> + +<p>One would have taken M. Bernardet for a happy +little bourgeois, going home from some theatre +through the deserted streets and repeating a verse +from some vaudeville, rather than a police spy who +had just secured a prize. He walked quickly, he +walked gaily. He reached his home, where Mme. +Bernardet, always rosy and pleasant, awaited him, +and where his three little girls were sleeping. He +felt that, like the Roman emperor, he had not lost +his day.</p> + +<p>He again hummed the quatrain, and, although +not in a loud tone, still it sounded like a far off +fanfare of victory in the gray fog of this Paris +night.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 192]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">M. Ginory</span> was not without uneasiness when he +thought of the detention of Jacques Dantin. Without +doubt, all prisoners, all accused persons are +reticent; they try to hide their guilt under voluntary +silence. They do not speak, because they +have sworn not to. They are bound, one knows +not by whom, by an oath which they cannot break. +It is the ordinary system of the guilty who cannot +defend themselves. Mystery seems to them +safety.</p> + +<p>But Dantin, intimately acquainted with Rovère's +life, might be acquainted with some secret which +he could not disclose and which did not pertain to +him at all. What secret? Had not an examining +magistrate a right to know everything? Had not +an accused man a right to speak? Either Dantin +had nothing to reveal and he was playing a comedy +and was guilty, or, if by a few words, by a confidence +made to the magistrate he could escape an +accusation, recover his liberty, without doubt he +would speak after having kept an inexplicable silence. +How could one suppose that an innocent +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 193]</span> +man would hold, for a long time, to this mute +system?</p> + +<p>The discovery of the portrait in Mme. Colard's +shop ought, naturally, to give to the affair a new +turn. The arrest of Charles Pradès brought an +important element to these researches. He would +be examined by M. Ginory the next morning, after +having been questioned by the Commissary of +Police.</p> + +<p>Bernardet, spruce, freshly shaven, was there, +and seemed in his well-brushed redingote, like a +little abbé come to assist at some curious ceremony.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, Pradès, after a sleepless night, +a night of agony, paler than the evening before, his +face fierce and its muscles contracted, had a haggard +expression, and he blinked his eyes like a +night bird suddenly brought into glaring sunlight. +He repeated before the Examining Magistrate what +he had said to the brigadier. But his voice, vibrant +a few hours before, had become heavy, almost +raucous, as the haughty expression of his face had +become sullen and tragic.</p> + +<p>The Examining Magistrate had cited Mme. +Colard, the shopkeeper, to appear before him. +She instantly recognized in this Pradès the +man who had sold her the little panel by Paul +Baudry.</p> + +<p>He denied it. He did not know of what they +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 194]</span> +were talking. He had never seen this woman. He +knew nothing about any portrait.</p> + +<p>"It belonged to M. Rovère," the magistrate replied, +"M. Rovère, the murdered man; M. +Rovère, who was consul at Buenos Ayres, and you +spoke, yesterday, of Buenos Ayres, in the examination +at the station house in the Rue de la Rochefoucauld."</p> + +<p>"M. Rovère? Buenos Ayres?" repeated the +young man, rolling his sombrero around his fingers.</p> + +<p>He repeated that he did not know the ex-Consul, +that he had never been in South America, that he +had come from Sydney.</p> + +<p>Bernardet, at this moment, interrupted him by +taking his hat from him without saying a word, +and Pradès cast a very angry look at the little +man.</p> + +<p>M. Ginory understood Bernardet's move and +approved with a smile. He looked in the inside +of the sombrero which Bernardet handed to +him.</p> + +<p>The hat bore the address of Gordon, Smithson & +Co., Berner Street, London.</p> + +<p>"But, after all," thought the Magistrate, +"Buenos Ayres is one of the markets for English +goods."</p> + +<p>"That is a hat bought at Sydney," Pradès +(who had understood) explained.</p> + +<p>Before the bold, decided, almost violent affirmations +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 195]</span> +which Mme. Colard made that this was +certainly the seller of the portrait, the young +man lost countenance a little. He kept saying +over and over: "You deceive yourself. Madame, +I have never spoken to you, I have never seen +you."</p> + +<p>When M. Ginory asked her if she still persisted +in saying that this was the man who had sold her +the picture, she said:</p> + +<p>"Do I still persist? With my neck under the +guillotine I would persist," and she kept repeating: +"I am sure of it! I am sure of it!"</p> + +<p>This preliminary examination brought about no +decisive result. It was certain that, if this portrait +had been in the possession of this young man +and been sold by him, that he, Charles Pradès, +was an accomplice of Dantin's, if not the author of +the crime. They ought, then, to be brought face +to face, and, possibly, this might bring about an +immediate result. And why not have this meeting +take place at once, before Pradès was sent where +Dantin was, at Mazas?</p> + +<p>M. Ginory, who had uttered this word "Mazas," +noticed the expression of terror which flashed +across and suddenly transfigured the young man's +face.</p> + +<p>Pradès stammered:</p> + +<p>"Then—you will hold me? Then—I am not +free?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 196]</span> +M. Ginory did not reply. He gave an order +that this Pradès should be guarded until the arrival +of Dantin from Mazas.</p> + +<p>In Mazas, in that walled prison, in the cell which +had already made him ill, Jacques Dantin sat. +This man, with the trooper's air, seemed almost to +be in a state of collapse. When the guard came to +his cell he drew himself up and endeavored to collect +all his energy; and when the door was opened +and he was called he appeared quite like himself. +When he saw the prison wagon which had brought +him to Mazas and now awaited to take him to +the Palais de Justice he instinctively recoiled; +then, recovering himself, he entered the narrow +vehicle.</p> + +<p>The idea, the sensation that he was so near all +this life—yet so far—that he was going through +these streets, filled with carriages, with men and +women who were free, gave him a desperate, a +nervous sense of irritation.</p> + +<p>The air which they breathed, he breathed and felt +fan his brow—but through a grating. They arrived +at the Palais and Jacques Dantin recognized +the staircases which he had previously mounted, +that led to the Examining Magistrate's room. He +entered the narrow room where M. Ginory awaited +him. Dantin saluted the Magistrate with a gesture +which, though courteous, seemed to have a little +bravado in it; as a salutation with a sword before +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 197]</span> +a duel. Then he glanced around, astonished to +see, between two guards, a man whom he did not +recognize.</p> + +<p>M. Ginory studied them. If he knew this +Pradès, who also curiously returned his look, +Jacques Dantin was a great comedian, because no +indication, not the slightest involuntary shudder, +not the faintest trace of an expression of having +seen him before, crossed his face. Even M. Ginory's +keen eyes could detect nothing. He had asked that +Bernardet be present at the meeting, and the little +man's face, become serious, almost severe, was +turned, with eager interrogation in its expression, +toward Dantin. Bernardet also was unable to detect +the faintest emotion which could be construed +into an acknowledgment of ever having seen this +young man before. Generally prisoners would, unconsciously, +permit a gesture, a glance, a something, +to escape them when they were brusquely +confronted, unexpectedly, with some accomplice. +This time not a muscle of Dantin's face moved, not +an eyelash quivered.</p> + +<p>M. Ginory motioned Jacques Dantin to a seat +directly in front of him, where the light would fall +full upon his face. Pointing out Pradès, he +asked:</p> + +<p>"Do you recognize this man?"</p> + +<p>Dantin, after a second or two, replied:</p> + +<p>"No; I have never seen him."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 198]</span> +"Never?"</p> + +<p>"I believe not; he is unknown to me!"</p> + +<p>"And you, Pradès, have you ever seen Jacques +Dantin?"</p> + +<p>"Never," said Pradès, in his turn. His voice +seemed hoarse, compared with the brief, clear response +made by Dantin.</p> + +<p>"He is, however, the original of the portrait +which you sold to Mme. Colard."</p> + +<p>"The portrait?"</p> + +<p>"Look sharply at Dantin. Look at him well," +repeated M. Ginory. "You must recognize that +he is the original of the portrait in question."</p> + +<p>"Yes;" Pradès replied. His eyes were fixed +upon the prisoner.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" the Magistrate joyously exclaimed, asking: +"And how, tell me, did you so quickly recognize +the original of the portrait which you saw only +an instant in my room?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," stammered Pradès, not comprehending +the gravity of a question put in an insinuating, +almost amiable tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well!" continued M. Ginory, still in a conciliating +tone, "I am going to explain to you. +It is certain that you recognize these features, +because you had a long time in which to contemplate +them; because you had it a long time in +your hands when you were trying to pull off the +frame."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 199]</span> +"The frame? What frame?" asked the young +man stupefied, not taking his eyes from the Magistrate's +face, which seemed to him endowed with +some occult power. M. Ginory went on:</p> + +<p>"The frame which you had trouble in removing, +since the scratches show in the wood. And what +if, after taking the portrait to Mme. Colard's shop, +we should find the frame in question at another +place, at some other shop—that would not be very +difficult," and M. Ginory smiled at Bernardet. +"What if we could add another new deposition to +that of Mme. Colard's? Yes; what if to that clear, +decisive deposition we could add another—what +would you have to say?"</p> + +<p>Silence! Pradès turned his head around, his +eyes wandered about, as if searching to find an outlet +or a support; gasping like a man who has been +injured.</p> + +<p>Jacques Dantin looked at him at the same moment +when the Magistrate, with a glance keener, +more piercing than ever, seemed to search his very +soul. The young man was now pallid and unmanned.</p> + +<p>At length Pradès pronounced some words. What +did he want of him? What frame was he talking +of? And who was this other dealer of whom the +Magistrate spoke and whom he had called a second +time? Where was this witness with "the new +deposition?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 200]</span> +"One is enough!" he said, casting a ferocious +look at Mme. Colard, who, on a sign from M. Ginory, +had entered, pale and full of fear.</p> + +<p>He added in a menacing tone:</p> + +<p>"One is even too much!"</p> + +<p>The fingers of his right hand contracted, as if +around a knife handle. At this moment Bernardet, +who was studying each gesture which the man +made, was convinced that the murderer of Rovère +was there. He saw that hand armed with the +knife, the one which had been found in his pocket, +striking his victim, gashing the ex-Consul's +throat.</p> + +<p>But then, "Dantin?" An accomplice, without +doubt. The head, of which the adventurer was the +arm. Because, in the dead man's eye, Dantin's +image appeared, reflected as clear proof, like an accusation, +showing the person who was last seen in +Rovère's supreme agony. Jacques Dantin was +there—the eye spoke.</p> + +<p>Mme. Colard's testimony no longer permitted +M. Ginory to doubt. This Charles Pradès was +certainly the man who sold the portrait.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be proved except that the two +men had never met. No sign of emotion showed +that Dantin had ever seen the young man before. +The latter alone betrayed himself when he was +going to Mazas with the original of the portrait +painted by Baudry.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 201]</span> +But, however, as the Magistrate underlined it +with precision, the fact alone of recognizing Dantin +constituted against Pradès a new charge. Added +to the testimony, to the formal affirmation of the +shopkeeper, this charge became grave.</p> + +<p>Coldly, M. Ginory said to his registrar:</p> + +<p>"An order!"</p> + +<p>Then, when Favarel had taken a paper engraved +at the top, which Pradès tried to decipher, the +Magistrate began to question him. And as M. +Ginory spoke slowly, Favarel filled in the blank +places which made a free man, a prisoner.</p> + +<p>"You are called?" demanded M. Ginory.</p> + +<p>"Pradès."</p> + +<p>"Your first name?"</p> + +<p>"Henri."</p> + +<p>"You said Charles to the Commissary of Police."</p> + +<p>"Henri-Charles—Charles—Henri."</p> + +<p>The Magistrate did not even make a sign to +Favarel, seated before the table, and who wrote +very quickly without M. Ginory dictating to +him.</p> + +<p>"Your profession?" continued the Magistrate.</p> + +<p>"Commission merchant."</p> + +<p>"Your age?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-eight."</p> + +<p>"Your residence?"</p> + +<p>"Sydney, Australia."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 202]</span> +And, upon this official paper, the replies were +filled in, one by one, in the blank places:</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Court of the First Instance of the Department Of +the Seine:</span></p> + +<table style="width:90%;" border="0" summary="warrant checklist"> +<tr> +<td style="width: 50%"> + +<p class="hangindent">Warrant of Commitment +against Pradès.</p> + +<p class="hangindent">Note.—Write exactly the +names, Christian names, professions, +age, residence and +nature of charge.</p> + +<p class="hangindent">Description<br /> +Height metre<br /> +centimetres</p> + +<p class="hangindent">Forehead<br /> +Nose</p> + +<p class="hangindent">Eyes<br /> +Mouth</p> + +<p class="hangindent">Chin<br /> +Eyebrows</p> + +<p class="hangindent">Hair</p> + +<p class="hangindent">General Appearance</p> +</td> + +<td style="width: 1%"></td> + +<td style="width: 30%"> +<p>We, Edmé-Armand-Georges +Ginory, Examining Magistrate +of the Court of the +First Instance of the Department +of the Seine, command +and enjoin all officers and +guards of the Public Force +to conduct to the Prison of +Detention, called the Mazas, +in conformity to the Law, +Pradès (Charles Henri), aged +28 years, Commission Merchant +from Sydney. Accused +of complicity in the murder +of Louis-Pièrre Rovère. We +direct the Director of said +house of detention to receive +and hold him till further orders. +We command every +man in the Public to lend +assistance in order to execute +the present order, in case such +necessity arises, to which we +attach our name and seal.</p> + +<p>Made at the Palais de Justice, +in Paris, the 12th of +February, 1896.</p> +</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<p>And below, the seal was attached to the order by +the registrar. M. Ginory signed it, saying to Favarel:</p> + +<p>"The description must be left blank. They will +fill it out after the measurements are taken."</p> + +<p>Then, Pradès, stupefied till now, not seeming to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 203]</span> +realize half that was passing around him, gave a +sudden, violent start. A cry burst from him.</p> + +<p>"Arrested! Have you arrested me?"</p> + +<p>M. Ginory leaned over the table. He was calm +and held his pen with which he had signed the order, +suspended in the air. The young man rushed +forward wild with anger, and if the guards had not +held him back, he would have seized M. Ginory's +fat neck with both hands. The guards held Pradès +back, while the Examining Magistrate, carelessly +pricking the table with his pen, gently said, with a +smile:</p> + +<p>"All the same, more than one malefactor has betrayed +himself in a fit of anger. I have often +thought that it would take very little to get myself +assassinated, when I had before me an accused +person whom I felt was guilty and who would not +confess. Take away the man!"</p> + +<p>While they were pushing Pradès toward the corridor +he shouted: "<i>Canailles</i>." M. Ginory ordered +that Dantin should be left alone with him. +"Alone," he said to Bernardet, whose look was a +little uneasy. The registrar half rose from his +chair, picking up his papers and pushing them into +the pockets of his much worn paper case.</p> + +<p>"No; you may remain, Favarel."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Magistrate in a familiar tone, +when he found himself face to face with Jacques +Dantin. "Have you reflected?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 204]</span> +Jacques Dantin, his lips pressed closely together, +did not reply.</p> + +<p>"It is a counsellor—a counsellor of an especial +kind—the cell. He who invented it"——</p> + +<p>"Yes;" Dantin brusquely interrupted. "The +brain suffers between those walls. I have not slept +since I went there. Not slept at all. Insomnia is +killing me. It seems as if I should go crazy!"</p> + +<p>"Then?" asked M. Ginory.</p> + +<p>"Then"——</p> + +<p>Jacques Dantin looked fiercely at the registrar, +who sat waiting, his pen over his ear, his elbows +on the table, his chin on his hands.</p> + +<p>"Then, oh, well! Then, here it is, I wish to tell +you all—all. But to you—to you"——</p> + +<p>"To me alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Dantin, with the same fierce expression.</p> + +<p>"My dear Favarel," the Magistrate began.</p> + +<p>The registrar had already risen. He slowly +bowed and went out.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the Magistrate to Jacques Dantin, +"you can speak."</p> + +<p>The man still hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," he asked, "will any word said here +be repeated, ought it or must it be repeated in a +courtroom, at the Assizes, I know not where—anywhere +before the public?"</p> + +<p>"That depends," said M. Ginory. "But what +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 205]</span> +you know you owe to justice, whether it be a revelation, +an accusation or a confession, I ask it of +you."</p> + +<p>Still Dantin hesitated. Then the Magistrate +spoke these words: "I demand it!"</p> + +<p>With a violent effort the prisoner began. "So +be it! But it is to a man of honor, rather than to +a Magistrate, to whom I address these words. If +I have hesitated to speak, if I have allowed myself +to be suspected and to be accused, it is because it +seemed to me impossible, absolutely impossible, +that this same truth should not be revealed—I do +not know in what way—that it would become +known to you without compelling me to disclose a +secret which was not mine."</p> + +<p>"To an Examining Magistrate one may tell +everything," said M. Ginory. "We have listened +to confessions in our offices which are as inviolable +as those of the confessional made to a priest."</p> + +<p>And now, after having accused Dantin of lying, +believing that he was acting a comedy, after smiling +disdainfully at that common invention—a vow +which one could not break—the perception of a +possibility entered the Magistrate's mind that this +man might be sincere. Hitherto he had closed his +heart against sympathy for this man; they had +met in the mutual hostility.</p> + +<p>The manner in which Jacques Dantin approached +the question, the resolution with which he spoke, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 206]</span> +no longer resembled the obstinate attitude which +he had before assumed in this same room.</p> + +<p>Reflection, the prison—the cell, without doubt—a +frightful and stifling cell—had done its work. +The man who had been excited to the point of not +speaking now wished to tell all.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "since nothing has happened to +convince you that I am not lying."</p> + +<p>"I am listening to you," said the Magistrate.</p> + +<p>Then, in a long, close conference, Jacques Dantin +told M. Ginory his story. He related how, from +early youth, he and Rovère had been close friends; +of the warm affection which had always existed between +them; of the shams and deceptions of which +he had been guilty; of the bitterness of his ruined +life; of an existence which ought to have been +beautiful, and which, so useless, the life of a <i>viveur</i>, +had almost made him—why?—how?—through need +of money and a lack of moral sense—almost descend +to crime.</p> + +<p>This Rovère, whom he was accused of killing, +he loved, and, to tell the truth, in that strange and +troublous existence which he had lived, Rovère +had been the only true friend whom he had known. +Rovère, a sort of pessimistic philosopher, a recluse, +lycanthropic, after a life spent in feasting, having +surfeited himself with pleasure, recognized also in +his last years that disinterested affection is rare in +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 207]</span> +this world, and his savage misanthropy softened +before Jacques Dantin's warm friendship.</p> + +<p>"I continued to search for, in what is called +pleasure and what as one's hair whitens becomes +vice; in play; in the uproar of Paris, forgetfulness +of life, of the dull life of a man growing old, +alone, without home or family, an old, stupid fellow, +whom the young people look at with hate and say +to each other: 'Why is he still here?' Rovère, +more and more, felt the need of withdrawing into +solitude, thinking over his adventurous life, as bad +and as ruined as mine, and he wished to see no one. +A wolf, a wild boar in his lair! Can you understand +this friendship between two old fellows, one +of whom tried in every way to direct his thoughts +from himself, and the other, waiting death in a +corner of his fireside, solitary, unsociable?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly! Go on!"</p> + +<p>And the magistrate, with eyes riveted upon +Jacques Dantin, saw this man, excited, making +light of this recital of the past; evoking remembrances +of forgotten events, of this lost affection; +lost, as all his life was.</p> + +<p>"This is not a conference; is it not so? You no +longer believe that it is a comedy? I loved +Rovère. Life had often separated us. He searched +for fortune at the other end of the world. I made +a mess of mine and ate it in Paris. But we always +kept up our relations, and when he returned to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 208]</span> +France we were happy in again seeing each other. +The grayer turned the hair, the more tender the +heart became. I had always found him morose—from +his twentieth year he always dragged after +him a sinister companion—ennui. He had chosen +a Consular career, to live far away, and in a fashion +not at all like ours. I have often laughingly +said to him that he probably had met with unrequited +love; that he had experienced some unhappy +passion. He said, no! I feigned to believe it. +One is not sombre and melancholy like that without +some secret grief. After all, there are others +who do not feel any gayer with a smile on the lips. +Sadness is no sign. Neither is gayety!"</p> + +<p>His face took on a weary, melancholy expression, +which at first astonished the Magistrate; then he +experienced a feeling of pity; he listened, silent +and grave.</p> + +<p>"I will pass over all the details of our life, shall +I not? My monologue would be too long. The +years of youth passed with a rapidity truly +astonishing; we come to the time when we found +ourselves—he weary of life, established in his +chosen apartments in the Boulevard de Clichy, +with his paintings and books; sitting in front of +his fire and awaiting death—I continuing to spur +myself on like a foundered horse. Rovère moralized +to me; I jeered at his sermons, and I went to +sit by his fireside and talk over the past. One of +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 209]</span> +his joys had been this portrait of me, painted by +Paul Baudry. He had hung it up in his salon, at +the corner of the chimney piece, at the left, and +he often said to me:</p> + +<p>"'Dost thou know that when thou art not here +I talk to it?'</p> + +<p>"I was not there very often. Parisian life +draws us by its thousand attractions. The days +which seem interminable when one is twenty rush +by as if on wings when one is fifty. One has not +even time to stop to see the friends one loves. At +the last moment, if one is right, one ought to say, +'How I have cast to the winds everything precious +which life has given me. How foolish I have been—how +stupid.' Pay no attention to my philosophisms—the +cell! Mazas forces one to think!</p> + +<p>"One day—it was one morning—on returning +from the club where I had passed the night stupidly +losing sums which would have given joy to hundreds +of families, I found on my desk a message +from Rovère. If one would look through my +papers one would find it there—I kept it. Rovère +begged me to come to him immediately. I shivered—a +sharp presentiment of death struck me. The +writing was trembling, unlike his own. I struck +my forehead in anger. This message had been +waiting for me since the night before, while I was +spending the hours in gambling. If, when I hurried +toward the Boulevard de Clichy, I had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 210]</span> +found Rovère dead on my arrival, I could not, believe +me, have experienced greater despair. His +assassination seemed to me atrocious; but I was at +least able to assure him that his friendship was returned. +I hastily read the telegram, threw myself +into a fiacre, and hastened to his apartments. +The woman who acted as housekeeper for him, +Mme. Moniche, the portress, raising her arms as +she opened the door for me, said:</p> + +<p>"'Ah! Monsieur, but Monsieur has waited for +you. He has repeated your name all night. He +nearly died, but he is better now.'</p> + +<p>"Rovère, sitting the night before by his fire, had +been stricken by lateral paralysis, and as soon as +he could hold a pen, in spite of the orders of the +physician who had been quickly called, had written +and sent the message to me some hours before.</p> + +<p>"As soon as he saw me he—the strong man, the +mad misanthrope, silent and sombre—held me in +his arms and burst into tears. His embrace was +that of a man who concentrates in one being all +that remains of hope.</p> + +<p>"'Thou! thou art here!' he said in a low tone. +'If thou knewest!'</p> + +<p>"I was moved to the depths of my heart. That +manly face, usually so energetic, wore an expression +of terror which was in some way almost childish, a +timorous fright. The tears rose in his eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 211]</span> +"'Oh! how I have waited for thee! how I have +longed for thee!'</p> + +<p>"He repeated this phrase with anxious obstinacy. +Then he seemed to be suffocating. Emotion! +The sight of me recalled to him the long agony of +that night when he thought that he was about to +die without parting with me for the last time.</p> + +<p>"'For what I have to tell thee'——</p> + +<p>"He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"'It is the secret of my life!'</p> + +<p>"He was lying on a sort of sick chair or lounge, +in the library where he passed his last days with +his books. He made me sit down beside him. He +took my hand and said:</p> + +<p>"'I am going to die. I believed that the end +had come last night. I called thee. Oh, well, if I +had died there is one being in the world who would +not have had the fortune which—I have'——</p> + +<p>"He lowered his voice as if he thought we were +spied upon, as if some one could hear.</p> + +<p>"'I have a daughter. Yes, even from thee I +have hidden this secret, which tortures me. A +daughter who loves me and who has not the right +to confess this tenderness, no more than I have the +right to give her my name. Ah! our youth, sad +youth! I might have had a home to-day, a fireside +of my own, a dear one near me, and instead of +that, an affection of which I am ashamed and which +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 212]</span> +I have hidden even from thee, Jacques, from thee, +dost thou comprehend?'</p> + +<p>"I remember each of Rovère's words as if I was +hearing them now. This conversation with my +poor friend is among the most poignant yet most +precious of my remembrances. With much emotion, +which distressed me, the poor man revealed +to me the secret which he had believed it his duty +to hide from me so many years, and I vowed to +him—I swore to him on my honor, and that is why +I hesitated to speak, or rather refused to speak, not +wishing to compromise any one, neither the dead +nor living—I swore to him, Monsieur le Juge, to +repeat nothing of what he told me to any one, to +any one but to her"——</p> + +<p>"Her?" interrogated M. Ginory.</p> + +<p>"His daughter," Dantin replied.</p> + +<p>The Examining Magistrate recalled that visitor +in black, who had been seen occasionally at +Rovère's apartments, and the little romance of +which Paul Rodier had written in his paper—the +romance of the Woman in Black!</p> + +<p>"And this daughter?"</p> + +<p>"She bears," said Dantin, with a discouraged +gesture, "the name of the father which the law +gives her, and this name is a great name, an illustrious +name, that of a retired general officer, living +in one of the provinces, a widower, and who adores +the girl who is another man's child. The mother +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 213]</span> +is dead. The father has never known. When +dying, the mother revealed the secret to her daughter. +She came, by command of the dead, to see +Rovère, but as a Sister of Charity, faithful to the +name which she bears. She does not wish to +marry; she will never leave the crippled old soldier +who calls her his daughter, and who adores her."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said M. Ginory, remaining mute a moment +before this very simple drama, and in which, +in that moment of reflection, he comprehended, he +analyzed, nearly all of the hidden griefs, the secret +tears, the stifled sobs, the stolen kisses. "And +that is why you kept silent?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Monsieur. Oh! but I could not endure +the torture any longer, and not seeing the expected +release any nearer, I would have spoken, I would +have spoken to escape that cell, that sense of suffocation, +I endured there. It seemed to me, however, +that I owed it to my dead friend not to reveal +his secret to any one, not even to you. I shall +never forget Rovère's joy, when relieved of the +burden, by the confidence which he had reposed in +me, he said to me, that now that she who was his +daughter, and was poor, living at Blois only on the +pension of a retired officer to whom she had appointed +herself nurse, knowing that she was not his +daughter, this innocent child, who was paying with +a life of devotion for the sins of two guilty ones, +would at least have happiness at last.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 214]</span> +"She is young, and the one for whom she cares +cannot live always. My fortune will give her a +dowry. And then!"</p> + +<p>"It was to me to whom he confided this fortune. +He had very little money with his notary. Erratic +and distrustful, Rovère kept his valuables in his +safe, as he kept his books in his library. It seemed +that he was a collector, picking up all kinds of +things. Avaricious? No; but he wished to have +about him, under his hand, everything which belonged +to him. He possibly may have wished to +give what he had directly to the one to whom it +seemed good to him to give it, and confide it to me +in trust.</p> + +<p>"I regret not having asked him directly that day +what he counted on doing with his fortune and how +he intended enriching his child, whom he had not +the right to recognize. I dared, or, rather, I did +not think of it. I experienced a strong emotion +when I saw my friend enfeebled and almost dying. +I had known him so different, so handsome. Oh! +those poor, sad, restless eyes, that lowered voice, as +if he feared an enemy was listening! Illness had +quickly, brutally changed that vigorous man, suddenly +old and timorous.</p> + +<p>"I went away from that first interview much +distressed, carrying a secret which seemed to me a +heavy and cruel one; and which made me think of +the uselessness, the wickedness, the vain loves of a +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 215]</span> +ruined life. But I felt that Rovère owed truly his +fortune to that girl who, the next day after the +death of the one whom she had piously attended, +found herself poor and isolated in a little house in +a steep street, near the Château, above Blois. I +felt that, whatever this unknown father left, ought +not to go to distant relatives, who cared nothing +for him; did not even know him; were ignorant of +his sufferings and perhaps even of his existence, +and who by law would inherit.</p> + +<p>"A dying man, yes! There could be no question +about it, and Dr. Vilandry, whom I begged to accompany +me to see my friend, did not hide it from +me. Rovère was dying of a kidney difficulty, +which had made rapid progress.</p> + +<p>"It was necessary, then, since he was not alone +in the world, that he should think of the one of +whom he had spoken and whom he loved.</p> + +<p>"'For I love her, that child whom I have no +right to name. I love her! She is good, tender, +admirable. If I did not see that she resembled me—for +she does resemble me—I should tell thee that +she was beautiful. I would be proud to cry aloud: +"This is my daughter!" To promenade with her +on my arm—and I must hide this secret from all +the world. That is my torture! And it is the +chastisement of all that has not been right in my +life. Ah! sad, unhappy loves!' That same +malediction for the past came to his lips as it had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 216]</span> +come to his thoughts. The old workman, burdened +with labor throughout the week, who could +promenade on the Boulevard de Clichy on Sunday, +with his daughter on his arm, was happier than +Rovère. And—a strange thing, sentiment of +shame and remorse—feeling himself traveling fast +to his last resting-place in the cemetery, he expressed +no wish to see that child, to send for her to +come from Blois under some pretext or other, easy +enough to find.</p> + +<p>"No, he experienced a fierce desire for solitude, +he shrunk from an interview, in which he feared all +his grief would rush to his lips in a torrent of +words. He feared for himself, for his weakness, for +the strange feeling he experienced in his head.</p> + +<p>"'It seems as if it oscillated upon my shoulders,' +he said. 'If Marthe came (and he repeated the +name as a child would have pronounced it who was +just learning to name the letters of a word) I +would give her but the sad spectacle of a broken-down +man, and leave on her mind only the impression +of a human ruin. And then—and then—not +to see her! not to have the right to see her! that +is all right—it is my chastisement!'</p> + +<p>"Let it be so! I understood. I feared that an +interview would be mortal. He had been so terribly +agitated when he had sent for me that other +time.</p> + +<p>"But I, at least, wished to recall to him his +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 217]</span> +former wish which he had expressed of providing +for the girl's future. I desired that he should make +up for the past, since money is one of the forms of +reparation. But I dared not speak to him again in +regard to it, or of that trust of which he had +spoken.</p> + +<p>"He said to me, this strong man whom Death +had never frightened, and whom he had braved +many times, he said to me now, weakened by this +illness which was killing him hour by hour:</p> + +<p>"If I knew that my end was near I would decide—but +I have time."</p> + +<p>"Time! Each day brought him a little nearer +to that life about which I feared to say to him: +'The time has come!' The fear, in urging him to +a last resolution, of seeming like an executioner +whose presence seemed to say: 'To-day is the +day!' prevented me. You understand, Monsieur? +And why not? I ought to wait no longer. +Rovère's confidence had made of me a second Rovère +who possessed the strength and force of will +which the first one now lacked. I felt that I held +in my hands, so to speak, Marthe's fate. I did not +know her, but I looked upon her as a martyr in +her vocation of nurse to the old paralytic to whom +she was paying, in love, the debt of the dead wife. +I said to myself: 'It is to me, to me alone, that +Rovère must give instructions of what he wishes +to leave to his daughter, and it is for me to urge +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 218]</span> +him to do this, it is for me to brace his weakened +will! I was resolved! It was a duty! Each day +the unhappy man's strength failed. I saw it—this +human ruin! One morning, when I went to his +apartments, I found him in a singular state of terror. +He related me a story, I knew not what, of a +thief, whose victim he was; the lock of his door +had been forced, his safe opened. Then, suddenly, +interrupting himself, he began to laugh, a feeble +laugh, which made me ill.</p> + +<p>"'I am a fool,' he said. 'I am dreaming, +awake—I continue in the daytime the nightmares +of the night—a thief here! No one has come—Mme. +Moniche has watched—but my head is so +weak, so weak! I have known so many rascals in +my life! Rascals always return, <i>hein!</i>'</p> + +<p>"He made a sad attempt at a laugh.</p> + +<p>"It was delirium! A delirium which soon +passed away, but which frightened me. It returned +with increased force each day, and at shorter +intervals.</p> + +<p>"Well, I said to myself, during a lucid interview, +'he must do what he has resolved to do, +what he had willed to do—what he wishes to do!' +And I decided—it was the night before the assassination—to +bring him to the point, to aid his hesitation. +I found him calmer that day. He was +lying on his lounge, enveloped in his dressing +gown, with a traveling rug thrown across his thin +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 219]</span> +legs. With his black skull-cap and his grayish +beard he looked like a dying Doge.</p> + +<p>"He held out his bony hand to me, giving me a +sad smile, and said that he felt better. A period +of remission in his disease, a feeling of comfort pervading +his general condition.</p> + +<p>"'What if I should recover?' he said, looking +me full in the face.</p> + +<p>"I comprehended by that ardent look, which was +of singular vitality, that this man, who had never +feared death, still clung to life. It was instinct.</p> + +<p>"I replied that certainly he might, and I even +said that he would surely recover, but—with what +grievous repugnance did I approach the subject—I +asked him if, experiencing the general feeling of +ease and comfort which pervaded his being, whether +he would not be even more comfortable and happy +if he thought of what he ought to do for that child +of whom he had spoken, and for whose future he +wished to provide.</p> + +<p>"'And since thou art feeling better, my dear +Rovère, it is perhaps the opportunity to put +everything in order in that life which thou +art about to recover, and which will be a new life.'</p> + +<p>"He looked fixedly at me with his beautiful +eyes. It was a profound regard, and I saw that he +divined my thought.</p> + +<p>"'Thou art right!' he said firmly; 'no weakness.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 220]</span> +"Then, gathering all his forces, he arose, stood +upright, refusing even the arm which I held out to +him, and in his dressing gown, which hung about +him, he seemed to me taller, thinner, even handsomer. +He took two or three steps, at first a little +unsteady, then, straightening up, he walked directly +to his safe, turned the letters, and opened it, after +having smiled, and said:</p> + +<p>"'I had forgotten the word—four letters; it is, +however, a little thing. My head is empty.'</p> + +<p>"Then, the safe opened, he took out papers—of +value, without doubt—papers which he took back +to his lounge, spread out on a table near at hand, +and said:</p> + +<p>"'Let us see! This which I am going to give +thee is for her——A will, yes, I could make a will——but +it would create talk——it would be asked +what I had done——it would be searched out, dug +out of the past, it would open a tomb——I cannot!—--What +I have shall be hers, thou wilt give +it to her—thou'——</p> + +<p>"And his large, haggard eyes searched through +the papers.</p> + +<p>"'Ah! here!' he said; 'here are some bonds! +Egyptian—of a certain value to the holder, at 3 per +cent. I hid that—where did I put it?'</p> + +<p>"He picked up the papers, turned them over and +over, became alarmed, turned pale.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 221]</span> +"'But,' I said to him, 'is it not among those +papers?'</p> + +<p>"He shrugged his shoulders, displayed with an +ironical smile the engraved papers.</p> + +<p>"'Some certificates of decorations! The bric-a-brac +of a Consular life.'</p> + +<p>"Then with renewed energy he again went to the +safe, opened the till, pulled it out, and searched +again and again.</p> + +<p>"Overcome with fright, he exclaimed: 'It is +not there!'</p> + +<p>"'Why is it not there?'</p> + +<p>"And he gave me another look—haggard! terrible! +His face was fearfully contracted. He +clasped his head with both hands, and stammered, +as if coming out of a dream.</p> + +<p>"'It is true, I remember—I have hidden it! +Yes, I hid it! I do not know where—in some +book! In which one?'</p> + +<p>"He looked around him with wild eyes. The +cerebral anæmia which had made him fear robbery +again seized him, and poor Rovère, my old friend, +plainly showed that he was enduring the agony +of a man who is drowning, and who does not know +where to cling in order to save himself.</p> + +<p>"He was still standing, but as he turned around, +he staggered.</p> + +<p>"He repeated in a hoarse, frightened voice: +'Where, where have I hidden that? Fool! The +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 222]</span> +safe did not seem to me secure enough! Where, +where have I put it?'</p> + +<p>"It was then, Monsieur, yes, at that moment, +that the concierge entered and saw us standing face +to face before those papers of which she had spoken. +I must have looked greatly embarrassed, very pale, +showing the violent emotion which seized me by +the throat. Rovère said to her rather roughly: +'What are you here for?' and sent her away with +a gesture. Mme. Moniche had had time to see the +open safe and the papers spread out, which she +supposed were valuable. I understand how she +deceived herself, and when I think of it, I accuse +myself. There was something tragic taking place +between Rovère and me. This woman could not +know what it was, but she felt it.</p> + +<p>"And it was more terrible, a hundred times more +terrible, when she had disappeared. There seemed +to be a battle raging in Rovère's brain, as between +his will and his weakness. Standing upright, striving +not to give way, struggling to concentrate all +his brain power in his effort to remember, to find +some trace of the hidden place where he had foolishly +put his fortune, between the leaves of some +huge book. Rovère called violently, ardently to +his aid his last remnant of strength to combat +against this anæmia which took away the memory +of what he had done. He rolled his eyes desperately, +found nothing, remembered nothing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 223]</span> +"It was awful—this combat against memory, +which disappeared, fled; this aspect of a panting +beast, a hunted boar which seemed to seize this +man—and I shivered when, with a rage, I shall +never forget, the dying man rushed, in two steps, +to the table, bent over the papers, snatched them +up with his thin hands, crumpled them up, tore +them in two and threw them under his feet, with +an almost maniacal laugh, saying in strident tones:</p> + +<p>"'Ah! Decorations! Brevets, baubles! Childish +foolishness! What good are they? Would +they give her a living?'</p> + +<p>"And he kept on laughing. He excited himself +over the papers, which he stamped under his feet +until he had completely exhausted himself. He +gasped, 'I stifle!' and he half fell over the lounge, +upon which I laid him. I fully believed that he +was dying. I experienced a horrible sensation, +which was agonizing. He revived, however. But +how, after that swoon and that crisis, could I speak +to him again of his daughter, of that which he +wished to leave her, to give, in trust, to me? He +became preoccupied with childish things, returning +to the dreams of a rich man; he spoke of going out +the next day. We would go together in the Bois. +We would dine at the Pavilion. He would like to +travel. And thus he rambled on.</p> + +<p>"I said to myself, 'Wait! Let us wait! To-morrow, +after a good night's sleep, he will perhaps +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 224]</span> +remember. I surely have some days before me. +To speak to him to-day would be to provoke a new +crisis.'</p> + +<p>"And I helped him to put back in the safe the +crushed, torn papers, without his asking me, or +even himself questioning how they had come there, +who had thrown them on the floor, or who had +opened the safe. His face wore a slight smile, his +gestures were automatic. Very weary, he at last +said:</p> + +<p>"'I am very tired. I would like to sleep.' I +left him. He had stretched himself out and covered +himself up. He closed his eyes and said:</p> + +<p>"'It is so good to sleep!'</p> + +<p>"I would see him to-morrow. I would try to +again to-morrow awaken in him the desire which +now seemed dulled. To-morrow his memory would +have returned, and in some of his books where he +had (like the Arabs who put their harvests in silos) +placed his treasure he would find the fortune intended +for his daughter.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow! It is the word one repeats most +often, and which one has the least right to use.</p> + +<p>"I saw Rovère only after he was dead, with his +throat cut—assassinated by whom? The man whom +you have arrested has traveled much; he comes from +a distance. Rovère was Consul at Buenos Ayres, +and you know that he said to me the last day I saw +him: 'I have known many rascals in my life!' +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 225]</span> +Which seemed very simple when one thinks of the +way he had lived.</p> + +<p>"This is the truth, Monsieur. I ought to have +told you sooner. I repeat that I had the weakness +of wishing to keep the vow given to my dead friend. +I had the name of a woman to betray, the name of +a man, too; innocent of Rovère's fault. And then, +again, it seemed to me that this truth ought to become +known of itself. When I was arrested, a +sort of foolish bravado urged me to see how far the +absurdity of the charge could accumulate against +me seeming proofs. I am a gambler. That was a +part I played against you, or rather against the +foolishness of destiny. I did not take a second +thought that the error could be a lasting one. I +had, moreover, only a word to say, but this word, +I repeat, I hesitated to speak, and I willingly supported +the consequence of this hesitation, even because +this word was a name."</p> + +<p>"That name," said M. Ginory, "I have not asked +you."</p> + +<p>"I refused it to the Magistrate," said Jacques +Dantin, "but I confide it to the man of honor!"</p> + +<p>"There is only a Magistrate here," M. Ginory +replied, "but the legal inquiry has its secrets, as +life has."</p> + +<p>And Jacques Dantin gave the name which the +one whom Louis-Pièrre Rovère called, Marthe, bore +as her rightful name.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 226]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">M. Ginory</span>, M. Leriche, the chief; Bernardet, +and, in fact, all the judiciary, believed that Charles +Pradès was guilty of the murder of Rovère. Bernardet, +who had been an actor in this drama, had +now become a spectator.</p> + +<p>Paul Rodier, a good reporter, had learned before +his confreres of the arrest of the young man, and, +abandoning what he had called his trail of the +Woman in Black, he abruptly whirled about and +quickly invented a sensational biography of the +newcomer. Charles-Henri Pradès, or rather Carlos +Pradès, as he called himself, had been a <i>gaucho</i>, a +buffalo tamer, a cowboy, using, turn by turn, the +American revolver against the Redskins and the +Mexican lasso against the Yankees.</p> + +<p>The journalist had obtained a signature, picked +up by the lodging-house keeper where the guilty +man had been hunted down, and published in his +paper the autographic characters; he had deduced +from them some dramatic observations. Cooper, +of former times; Gustave Aymard, of yesterday; +Rudyard Kipling or Bret Harte, of to-day, had +never met a personage more dreadful, and at the +same time more heroic. Carlos Pradès used the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 227]</span> +navaja (Spanish knife) with the terrible rapidity of +a Catalan. He had felt since the days of Buenos +Ayres a fierce hate for the ex-Consul, and this +crime, which some of his brother reporters, habitually +indifferently informed (it was Paul Rodier who +spoke), now attributed alone to the avarice of this +Cambrioleur from over the sea; he, Rodier, gave +this note as the cause of vengeance, and built +thereupon a romance which made his readers +shiver. Or, rather, he said nothing outright. He +permitted one a glimpse into, he outlined, one +knows not what, dark history. Soon he made this +Carlos Pradès the instrument and the arm of an association +of vengeance. He could even believe that +there was anarchy in the affair. Then he had the +young man mixed in some love affair, a drama of +passion, with Argentine Republic for the theatre.</p> + +<p>As a result he had succeeded in making interesting +the man whom Bernardet had pushed a few +nights before into the station house.</p> + +<p>And, what was a singular thing, the reporter had +divined part of the truth. It was still another +episode in his past that Rovère expiated when he +found himself one day, in his salon in the Boulevard +de Clichy, face to face with the man who was +to be his murderer. At Buenos Ayres, the ex-Consul +had been associated in a large agricultural +enterprise with a man whose hazardous speculations, +play and various adventures had completely +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 228]</span> +ruined him, and who had left two children—a +young girl whom Rovère thought for a moment +of marrying, and a son, younger—poor beings of +whom the Consul, paying his partner's debts, +seemed the natural protector. Jean Pradès, in +committing suicide—he had killed himself, frightened +at the magnitude of his debts—had commended +his children to Rovère's care.</p> + +<p>If Carlotta had lived, without doubt Rovère +would have made her his wife. He loved her with +a deep and respectful tenderness. The poor girl +died very suddenly, and there remained to Rovère +only his dream. One of those remembrances of a +fireside, one of those spectres which brush the +forehead with their wings or the folds of their +winding sheets, when in the solitude in which he +has voluntarily buried himself the searcher after +adventures recalls the past. The past of yesterday. +Illusions, disillusions, old loves, miseries!</p> + +<p>Rovère gave to this brother of the dead girl the +affection which he had felt for her. He remembered, +also, the father's request. Pradès's son, passionate, +eager to live, tempted in all his appetites, +accepted as his due Rovère's truly paternal devotion, +worked on the sympathy of this man, who, +through pity and duty, too, gave to Charles a little +of the affection which he had felt for the sister, +almost his fiancee, and for the father, dead by his +own hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 229]</span> +But, little by little, the solicitations, the unreasonable +demands of Pradès, who, believing that +he had a just claim on his father's old partner, +found it very natural that Rovère should devote +himself to him—these continual and pressing demands +became for the Consul irritating obsessions. +Rovère seemed to this young man, who was a +spendthrift and a gambler—a gambler possessed +with atavistic frenzy—a sort of living savings +bank, from which he could draw without counting. +His importunities at last seemed fatiguing and excessive, +and Pradès was advised one beautiful day +that he no longer need count from that moment on +the generosity of his benefactor. All this happened +at Buenos Ayres, and about the time of the Consul's +departure for France. Rovère added to this +very curt declaration a last benefit. He gave to +the brother of the dead girl, to the son of Pradès, +of the firm of Rovère and Pradès, a sum sufficient +to enable him to live while waiting for better +things, and he told the young man in proper terms +that, as he had now no one to depend upon, that he +had better take himself elsewhere to be hung. +The word could not be, with the appetites and +habits of Charles Pradès, taken in a figurative +sense, and the young man continued his life of adventures, +as tragic in their reality and as improbable +as the reporters' melodramatic inventions.</p> + +<p>Then, at the end of his resources, after having +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 230]</span> +searched for fortune among miners, weary of tramping +about in America, he embarked one morning +for Havre, with the idea that the best gold mine +was still that living placer which he had exploited +in Buenos Ayres, and which was called Pièrre +Rovère.</p> + +<p>At Paris, where he knew the Consul had retired, +Pradès soon found trace of him, and learned where +was the retreat of his brother-in-law. His brother-in-law! +He pronounced the word with a wicked +sneer, as if it had for him a something understood +about the sweet and maiden remembrance of the +dead girl. There, in gay Paris, with some resources +which allowed him to pay for his board and +lodging in a third-rate hotel, he searched, asked, +discovered, at last, the address of the ex-Consul, +and presented himself to Rovère, who felt, at sight +of this spectre, his anger return.</p> + +<p>The first time that Charles Pradès had asked at +the lodge if M. Rovère was at home, the Moniches +had permitted him to go upstairs, and perhaps +Mme. Moniche would have suspected the man in +the sombrero if she had not surprised Jacques Dantin +before the open safe and the papers.</p> + +<p>Pradès, moreover, had appeared only three times +at Rovère's house, and on the day of the murder +he had entered at the moment when Mme. Moniche +was sweeping the upper floors, and Moniche was +working in his shop in the rear of the lodge, and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 231]</span> +the staircase was empty. He rang, and Rovère, +with dragging steps, came to open the door. +Rovère was ill and was a little ennuied, and he believed, +or instinctively hoped, that it was the woman +in black—his daughter!</p> + +<p>Everything served Pradès's projects. He had +come not to kill, but by some means to gain entrance +to Rovère's apartments, and, when once +there, to find some resource—a loan, more or less +freely given, more or less forced—and he would +leave with it.</p> + +<p>Rovère, already worn out, weary of his former +supplications, felt tempted to shut the door in his +face, but Pradès pushed it back, entered, closed it, +and said:</p> + +<p>"A last interview! You will never see me +again! But listen to me!"</p> + +<p>Then, Rovère allowed him to enter the salon, and +despite the terrible weakness which he experienced +wished to make this a final, decisive interview; to +disembarrass himself once for all of this everlasting +beggar, sometimes whining, sometimes threatening.</p> + +<p>"Will you not let me die in peace?" he said. +"Have I not paid my debt?"</p> + +<p>But Pradès had seated himself in a fauteuil, +crossed his legs and hung over his knee his sombrero, +on which he drummed a minstrel march.</p> + +<p>"My dear Monsieur Rovère, it is a last appeal +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 232]</span> +for funds. I believe that America is better than +Paris. And in order to return there or to do what +I ought here, I must have what I have not—money!"</p> + +<p>"I am tired of giving you money!" Rovère +quickly replied.</p> + +<p>And between these two men, bound by the remembrance +of the dead girl—a bond burdensome +to the one, imposed upon by the other—a storm of +bitter words and harsh sentiments arose and kindled +fierce anger in both.</p> + +<p>"I tried to let you remain in peace, my dear +Consul. But hunger has driven the wolf out of +the woods. I am very hungry. And here I am!"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing with which to feed your appetites. +You are nothing but a burden to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Ingratitude!" and Pradès, with his Argentine +accent, spoke his sister's name.</p> + +<p>"My father died and Carlotta herself entrusted +me to your care, my dear brother-in-law!"</p> + +<p>It seemed to the sick man, irritated as he was, +that this name—which he had buried deep in his +heart with chaste tenderness—was a supreme insult.</p> + +<p>"I forbid you to evoke that memory! You do +not see, then, that the memory of that dear and +saintly creature is one of the griefs of my life!"</p> + +<p>"And it is one of my heritages! Brother-in-law +of a consul, <i>Senor mia</i>, but it is a title, and I hold +it!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 233]</span> +Rovère experienced a strong desire to call, to +ring, to give an order to have this troublesome +visitor put out. But energetic and fearless as he +had been but a short time before, now weakened +by illness, he trembled before a possible scandal. +Then he, unaided, attempted to push the young +man out of the salon. Pradès resisted, and, at the +first touch, gave a bound, and all that was evil in +him suddenly awoke.</p> + +<p>A struggle ensued, without a word being pronounced +by either; a quick, brutal struggle. +Rovère counted on his past strength, taking by +the collar this Pradès who threatened him, and +Pradès, while clutching the ex-Consul with his left +hand, searched in his pocket for a weapon—the one +which Bernardet had taken from him.</p> + +<p>This was a sinister moment! Pradès pushed +Rovère back; he staggered and fell against a piece +of furniture, while the young man disengaging himself, +stepped back, quickly opened his Spanish +knife, then, with a bound, caught Rovère, shook +him, and holding the knife uplifted, said:</p> + +<p>"Thou hast willed it!"</p> + +<p>It was at this instant that Rovère, whose hands +were contracted, dug his nails into the assassin's +neck—the nails which the Commissary Desbrière +and M. Jacquelin Audrays had found still red with +blood.</p> + +<p>Pradès, who had come there either to supplicate +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 234]</span> +or threaten, now had only one thought, hideous and +ferocious—to kill! He did not reason. It was no +more than an unchained instinct. The noise of the +organs upon the Boulevard, which accompanied +with their musical, dragging notes this savage +scene, like a tremulo undertone to a melodrama at +the theatre, he did not hear. The whole intensity +of his life seemed to be concentrated in his fury, in +his hand armed with the knife. He threw himself +on Rovère; he struck the flesh, opening the throat, +as across the water among the Gauchos he had been +accustomed to kill sheep or cut the throat of an ox.</p> + +<p>Rovère staggered, wavered, freed from the hand +which held him, and Pradès stepping back, looked +at him.</p> + +<p>Livid, the dying man seemed to live only in his +eyes. He had cast upon the murderer a last meaning +look—now, in a sort of supreme agony, he +looked around, his eyes searched for a support, for +aid, yes, they called, while from that throat horrible +sounds issued.</p> + +<p>Pradès saw with a kind of fright, Rovère, with +a superhuman tragic effort, step back, staggering +like a drunken man, pull with his poor contracted +hands from above the chimney piece an object +which the murderer had not noticed and upon +which, with an ardent, prayerful expression he +fixed his eyes, stammering some quick inarticulate +words which Pradès could not hear or understand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 235]</span> +It seemed to Pradès that between his victim and +himself there was a witness, and whether he thought +of the value of the stones imbedded in the frame or +whether he wished to take from Rovère this last +support in his distress, he went to him and attempted +to tear the portrait from his hands. But +an extraordinary strength seemed to come to the +dying man and Rovère resisted, fastening his eyes +upon the portrait, casting upon it a living flame, +like the last flare of a dying lamp, and with this +last, despairing, agonizing look the ex-Consul +breathed his last. He fell. Pradès tore the portrait +from the fingers which clutched it. That +frame, he could sell it. He picked up here and +there some pieces which seemed to him of value, as +if on a pillaging tour on the prairies. He was +about to enter the library where the safe was, when +the noise of the opening of the entrance door awakened +his trapper's instinct. Some one was coming. +Who it could be was of little importance. To remain +was to expose himself, to be at once arrested. +The corpse once seen, the person would cry aloud, +rush out, close the door and send for the police.</p> + +<p>Hesitating between a desire to pillage and the +necessity for fright, Pradès did not wait long to +decide. Should he hide? Impossible! Then, +stepping back to the salon door, he flattened himself +as much as possible against the wall and +waited until the door should be opened when he +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 236]</span> +would be completely hidden behind it. As Mme. +Moniche stepped into the room and cried out as she +saw Rovère lying on the floor, Pradès slipped into +the ante-chamber, found himself on the landing, +closed the door, rapidly descended the stairs and +stepped out upon the Boulevard de Clichy among +the passers-by, even before Mme. Moniche, terrified, +had called for help.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 237]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">All</span> the details of that murder, M. Ginory had +drawn, one by one, from Pradès in his examination. +The murderer denied at first; hesitated; discussed; +then at last, like a cask with the bung out, from +which pours not wine, but blood, the prisoner told +all; confessed; recounted; loosened his tongue; +abandoned himself weakened and conquered, weary +of his misery.</p> + +<p>"I was so foolish, so stupid," he violently said, +"as to keep the portrait. I believed that the frame +was worth a fortune. Fool! I sold it for a hundred +sous!"</p> + +<p>He gave the merchant's address, it was on the +Quai Saint Michel. Bernardet found the frame as +he had found the painted panel, and this time, no +great credit was due him.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he, "the affair is ended, <i>classé</i>. +My children (he was relating his adventures to his +little girls), we must pass to another. And why"—</p> + +<p>"Why, what?" asked Mme. Bernardet.</p> + +<p>"Eh! there it is! Why—it lacks the elucidation +of a problem. I will see! I will know!"</p> + +<p>He still remembered the young Danish doctor, +whom he had seen with M. Morin at the autopsy. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 238]</span> +With his knowledge of men, with the sharp, keen +eye of the police officer, Bernardet had recognized +a man of superior mind; a mind dreamy and mysterious. +He knew where Dr. Erwin lived during +his sojourn in Paris, and he went to his apartment +one beautiful morning and rang the bell at the door +of a hotel in the Boulevard Saint Martin, where +students and strangers lodge. He might have +asked advice of M. Morin, of the master of +French Science, but he, the Inspector of Sureté, +approach these high personages, to question them. +He dared not as long as there was a Danish doctor.</p> + +<p>Bernardet's brain whirled. He felt almost certain +that Dr. Erwin would give the same explanation +which he, himself, suspected, in regard to the +observed phenomenon.</p> + +<p>"The dead man's eye has spoken and can speak," +said Bernardet to himself. "Yes, surely. I am +not deceived."</p> + +<p>Dr. Erwin met Bernardet cordially and listened +to him with profound attention. The police officer +repeated word for word the confession drawn from +Pradès. Then he asked the Danish physician if he +really believed that Jacques Dantin's image had +been transfixed on the retina of the dying man's +eye, during the time when he had held and gazed +at the portrait.</p> + +<p>"For the proofs which I obtained were very confused," +said the officer, "it is possible, and I say it +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 239]</span> +is quite easy to recognize Jacques Dantin's features. +We have seen it, and, according to your opinion +even the painting was able to be—how shall I +express myself—stored up, retained in the retina."</p> + +<p>"You found the proof there," said Dr. Erwin.</p> + +<p>"So, according to your opinion, I have not deceived +myself?"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"I have truly found in the retina of the dead +man's eye the last vision he saw when living?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"But the vision of a painting. A painting, +Doctor."</p> + +<p>"Why not!" Dr. Erwin responded in a sharp +tone. "Do you know what happened? Knowing +that he was dying the unhappy man went, urged +by a tragic impulse, to that portrait which represented +to him all that was left, concentrating in one +image alone, all his life."</p> + +<p>"Then it is possible? It is possible?" Bernardet +repeated.</p> + +<p>"I believe it," said the Dane. "The man is +dying. He has only one thought—to go directly +to the one who, surviving him, guarded his secrets +and his life. He seized his portrait; he tore it +from its hook with all his strength; he devoured it +with his eyes; he drank it in with a look, if I may +be allowed the expression. To this picture of the +being whom he loved he spoke; he cried to him; +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 240]</span> +telling him his last wishes; dictating to him his +thoughts of vengeance. At this supreme moment +his energy was increased a hundredfold, I know +not what intensity of life was concentrated on this +image, and gathering all his failing forces in a last +look the man who wished to live; the man weakened +by illness, dying, assassinated, put into that +last regard the electric force, the fire which fixed +the image (confused, no doubt, but recognizable +since you have traced the resemblance) upon the +retina. A phantom, if you wish, which is reflected +in the dead man's eye."</p> + +<p>"And," repeated Bernardet, who wished to be +perfectly assured in regard to the question, "it is +not only the image of a living being, it is, to use +your words, the phantom even of a painting which +was retained on the retina?"</p> + +<p>"I do not reply to you: 'That is possible!' +It is you who say to me: 'I have seen it!' And +you have seen it, in truth, and the form, vague +though it may be, the painted figure permits you to +find in a passer-by the man whose picture the retina +had already shown you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! well! Doctor," said the little Bernardet, +"I shall tell that, but they will deny it. They will +say that it is impossible!"</p> + +<p>Dr. Erwin smiled. He seemed to be looking, +with his deep blue eyes, at some invisible perspective, +not bounded by the rooms of little room.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 241]</span> +"One has said," he began, "that the word <i>impossible</i> +is not French. It would be more exact to +affirm that it was not <i>human</i>! We attain a knowledge +of the unknowable. The mysterious is approachable. +One must deny nothing <i>a priori</i>; one +must believe all things possible and not only a +dream. Search for the truth, the <i>harsh</i> truth, as +your Stendhal said. Well! the word is wrong. +One ought to say justly, the <i>exquisite</i> truth, for it +is a joy for those who search, that daily life where +each movement marks a step advanced, where the +heart beats at the thought of a rendezvous in the +laboratory as at a rendezvous of love. Ah! he is +happy who has given his life to science. He lives +in a dream. It is the poetry, in our times of prose. +The dream," continued the young doctor as in an +ecstasy, while Bernardet listened, ravished, "the +dream is everywhere. It is impossible to make it +tangible. Thought, human thought, can sometime +be deciphered like an open book. An American +physician asked to be permitted to try an experiment +upon the cranium of a condemned man, still +living. Through the cranium he studied the man's +brain. Has not Edison undertaken to give sight +to the blind! But, in order to accomplish all these +things, it is necessary, as in primitive times, to believe, +to believe always. The twentieth century +will see many others."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Doctor! Doctor!" cried poor little Bernardet, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 242]</span> +much moved. "I do not wish to be the +ignoramus that I am, the father of a family, who +has mouths to feed, and I beg of you to take me as +a sweeper in your laboratory."</p> + +<p>He departed, enthused by the interview. Henceforth +he could say that, he, the ignorant one, had, +by his seemingly foolish conviction, proved the +leader of an experiment which had been abandoned +for some years; and the humble police +officer had reopened the nearly closed door to +criminal instruction.</p> + +<p>A scruple, moreover, came to him; a doubt, an +agony, and he wished to share it with M. Ginory.</p> + +<p>All the same, with the admirable invention, he +had caused an innocent man to be arrested. This +thought made him very uneasy. He had produced +a power which, instead of striking the guilty, had +overthrown an unhappy man, and it was this +famous discovery of Dr. Bourion's, persisted in by +him, which had resulted in this mistake.</p> + +<p>"It must be," he thought, "that man may be +fallible even in the most marvelous discoveries. It +is frightful! It is perhaps done to make us more +prudent. Prudent and modest!"</p> + +<p>Doubt now seized him. Must he stop there in +these famous experiments which ended in this lie? +Ought he abandon all research on a road which +ended in a cul-de-sac? And he confided that unhappy +scruple to the Examining Magistrate, with +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 243]</span> +whom the chances of the service had put him in +sympathy. M. Ginory not only was interested in +strange discoveries, but he was always indulgent +toward the original, little Bernardet.</p> + +<p>"Finally, M. le Juge," said the police officer, +shaking his head, "I have thought and thought +about the discovery, our discovery—that of Dr. +Bourion. It is subject to errors, our discovery. +It would have led us to put in prison—Jacques +Dantin, and Jacques Dantin was not guilty."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! M. Bernardet," said the Magistrate, +who seemed thoughtful, his heavy chin resting on +his hand. "It ought to make us modest. It is +the fate of all human discoveries. To err—to err, +is human!"</p> + +<p>"It is not the less true," responded Bernardet, +"that all which has passed opens to us the astonishing +horizon of the unknown"——</p> + +<p>"The unknowable!" murmured the Magistrate.</p> + +<p>"A physician who sometimes asks me to his experiments +invited me to his house the other evening +and I saw—yes saw, or what one calls seeing, +in a mirror placed before me, by the light of the +X-rays—greenish rays which traversed the body—yes, +Monsieur, I saw my heart beat, and my lungs +perform their functions, and I am fat, and a thin +person could better see himself living and breathing. +Is it not fantastic, Monsieur Ginory? Would +not a man have been shut up as a lunatic thirty +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 244]</span> +years ago who would have pretended that he had +discovered that? We shall see—we shall see +many others!"</p> + +<p>"And will it add to the happiness of man? and +will it diminish grief, wickedness and crime?"</p> + +<p>The Magistrate spoke as if to himself, thoughtfully, +sadly. Something Bernardet said brought a +smile to his lips.</p> + +<p>"This is, Monsieur le Juge, a fine ending of the +chapter for the second part of your work, 'The +Duty of a Magistrate Toward Scientific Discoveries.' +And if the Academy of Moral and Political +Sciences does not add"——</p> + +<p>M. Ginory suddenly turned red and interrupted +Bernardet with a word and a gesture.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Bernardet!"</p> + +<p>"I can only repeat, Monsieur, what public opinion +thinks and says," said Bernardet, bowing low. +"There was an illusion to this affair written up. +An amiable fellow—that Paul Rodier."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Monsieur Bernardet, Monsieur Bernardet!" +laughingly said the Magistrate, "you have +a weakness for reporters. Do you want me to tell +you something? You will finish by becoming a +journalist."</p> + +<p>"And you will certainly finish in the habit of a +member of the Academy, Monsieur Ginory," said +the little Bernardet, with his air of a mocking +abbé.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 245]</span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Very</span> often, after his release from prison, Jacques +Dantin went to the corner of the cemetery at Montmartre, +where his friend lay. And he always +carried flowers. It had become to him, since the +terrible strain of his detention, a necessity, a habit. +The dead are living! They wait, they understand, +they listen!</p> + +<p>It seemed to Dantin that he had but one aim. +Alas! What had been the wish, the last dream of +the dead man would never be realized. That fortune +which Rovère had intended for the child whom +he had no right to call his own would go, was going +to some far-off cousins of whose existence the ex-Consul +was not even aware perhaps, and whom he +certainly had never known—to some indifferent +persons, chance relatives, strangers.</p> + +<p>"I ought not to have waited for him to tell me +what his intentions were regarding his daughter," +Dantin often thought. What would become of her, +the poor girl, who knew the secret of her birth and +who remained silent, piously devoting herself to +the old soldier whose name she bore?</p> + +<p>One day in February a sad, gray day, Jacques +Dantin, thinking of the past Winter so unhappy +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 246]</span> +of the sad secret grave and heavy, strolled along +toward that granite tomb near which Rovère slept. +He recalled the curious crowd which had accompanied +his dead friend to its last resting place: the +flowers; the under current of excitement; the +cortège. Silence now filled the place! Dark +shadows could be seen here and there between the +tombs at the end of paths. It was not a visiting +day nor an hour usual for funerals. This solitude +pleased Jacques. He felt near to him whom he +loved.</p> + +<p>Louis-Pièrre Rovère. That name, which Moniche +had had engraved, evoked many remembrances for +this man who had for a time been suspected of +assassinating him. All his childhood, all his youth, +all the past! How quickly the years had fled, +such ruined years. So much of fever, of agitation—so +many ambitions, deceptions, in order to +end here.</p> + +<p>"He is at rest at least," thought Dantin, remembering +his own life, without aim, without happiness. +And he also would rest soon, having not even a +friend in this great city of Paris whom he could +depend upon to pay him a last visit. A ruined, +wicked, useless life!</p> + +<p>He again bade Rovère good-bye speaking to him, +calling him thee and thou as of old. Then he went +slowly away. But at the end of a walk he turned +around to look once more at the place where his +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 247]</span> +friend lay. He saw, coming that way, between the +tombs, as if by some cross alley, a woman in black, +who was walking directly toward the place he had +left. He stopped, waiting—yes, it was to Rovère's +tomb that she was going. Tall, svelte, and as far +as Jacques Dantin could see, she was young. He +said to himself:</p> + +<p>"It is his daughter!"</p> + +<p>The memory of their last interview came to him. +He saw his unhappy friend, haggard, standing in +front of his open safe, searching through his papers +for those which represented his child's fortune. If +this was his friend's daughter, it was to him that +Rovère had looked to assure her future.</p> + +<p>He walked slowly back to the tomb. The woman +in black was now kneeling near the gray stone. +Bent over, arranging a bouquet of chrysanthemums +which she had brought. Dantin could see only her +kneeling form and black draperies.</p> + +<p>She was praying now!</p> + +<p>Dantin stood looking at her, and when at last +she arose he saw that she was tall and elegant in +her mourning robes. He advanced toward her. +The noise of his footsteps on the gravel caused her +to turn her head, and Dantin saw a beautiful face, +young and sad. She had blonde hair and large +eyes, which opened wide in surprise. He saw the +same expression of the eyes which Rovère's had +borne.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 248]</span> +The young woman instinctively made a movement +as if to go away, to give place to the newcomer. +But Dantin stopped her with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"Do not go away, Mademoiselle. I am the best +friend of the one who sleeps here."</p> + +<p>She stopped, pale and timid.</p> + +<p>"I know very well that you loved him," he added.</p> + +<p>She unconsciously let a frightened cry escape +her and looked helplessly around.</p> + +<p>"He told me all," Dantin slowly said. "I am +Jacques Dantin. He has spoken to you of me, I +think"——</p> + +<p>"Yes," the young woman answered.</p> + +<p>Dantin involuntarily shivered. Her voice had +the same <i>timbre</i> as Rovère's.</p> + +<p>In the silence of the cemetery, near the tomb, +before that name, Louis-Pièrre Rovère, which +seemed almost like the presence of his dead friend, +Dantin felt the temptation to reveal to this girl +what her father had wished her to know.</p> + +<p>They knew each other without ever having met. +One word was enough, one name was sufficient, in +order that the secret which united them should +bring them nearer each other. What Dantin was +to Rovère, Rovère had told Marthe again and again.</p> + +<p>Then, as if from the depths of the tomb, Rovère +had ordered him to speak. Jacques Dantin, in the +solemn silence of that City of the Dead, confided +to the young girl what her father had tried to tell +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 249]</span> +him. He spoke rapidly, the words, "A legacy—in +trust—a fortune" fell from his lips. But the young +girl quickly interrupted him with a grand gesture.</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to know what any one has told +you of me. I am the daughter of a man who awaits +me at Blois, who is old, who loves only me, who +needs only me, and I need nothing!"</p> + +<p>There was in her tone an accent of command, of +resolution, which Dantin recognized as one of +Rovère's most remarkable characteristics.</p> + +<p>Had Dantin known nothing, this sound in the +voice, this ardent look on the pale face, would have +given him a hint or a suspicion, and have obliged +him to think of Rovère. Rovère lived again in +this woman in black whom Jacques Dantin saw for +the first time.</p> + +<p>"Then?" asked this friend of the dead man, as +if awaiting an order.</p> + +<p>"Then," said the young girl in her deep voice, +"when you meet me near this tomb do not speak to +me of anything. If you should meet me outside +this cemetery, do not recognize me. The secret +which was confided to you by the one who sleeps +there, is the secret of a dead one whom I adored—<i>my +mother</i>; and of a living person whom I reverence—<i>my +father!</i>"</p> + +<p>She accented the words with a sort of tender, +passionate piety, and Jacques Dantin saw that her +eyes were filled with tears.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 250]</span> +"Now, adieu!" she said.</p> + +<p>Jacques still wished to speak of that last confidence +of the dying man, but she said again:</p> + +<p>"Adieu!"</p> + +<p>With her hand, gloved in black, she made the +sign of the Cross, smiled sadly as she looked at the +tomb where the chrysanthemums lay, then lowering +her veil she went away, and Dantin, standing near +the gray tomb, saw her disappear at the end of an +alley.</p> + +<p>The martyr, expiating near the old crippled man, +a fault of which she was innocent, went back to +him who was without suspicion; to him who +adored her and to whom she was, in their poor +apartment in Blois, his saint and his daughter.</p> + +<p>She would watch, she would lose her youth, near +that old soldier whose robust constitution would +endure many, many long years. She would pay +her dead mother's debt; she would pay it by devoting +every hour of her life to this man whose +name she bore—an illustrious name, a name belonging +to the victories, to the struggles, to the history +of yesterday—she would be the hostage, the expiatory +victim.</p> + +<p>With all her life would she redeem the fault of +that other!</p> + +<p>"And who knows, my poor Rovère," said +Jacques Dantin, "thy daughter, proud of her +sacrifice, is perhaps happier in doing this!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 251]</span> +In his turn he left the tomb, he went out of the +cemetery, he wished to walk to his lodging in the +Rue Richelieu. He had only taken a few steps +along the Boulevard, where—it seemed but yesterday—he +had followed (talking with Bernardet) +behind Rovère's funeral carriage, when he nearly +ran into a little man who was hurrying along the +pavement. The police officer saluted him, with a +shaking of the head, which had in it regret, a little +confusion, some excuses.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Monsieur Dantin, what a grudge you +must have against me!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Dantin. "You thought that +you were doing your duty, and it did not displease +me to have you try to so quickly avenge my poor +Rovère."</p> + +<p>"Avenge him! Yes, he will be! I would not +give four sous for Charles Pradès's head to-morrow, +when he is tried. We shall see each other in +court. <i>Au revoir</i>, Monsieur Dantin, and all my +excuses!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Au revoir</i>, Monsieur Bernardet, and all my +compliments!"</p> + +<p>The two men separated. Bernardet was on his +way home to breakfast. He was late. Mme. Bernardet +would be waiting, and a little red and +breathless he hurried along. He stopped on hearing +a newsboy announce the last number of <i>Lutèce</i>.</p> + +<p>"Ask for the account of the trial to-morrow: +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 252]</span> +The inquest by Paul Rodier on the crime of the +Boulevard de Clichy!"</p> + +<p>The newsboy saluted Bernardet whom he knew +very well.</p> + +<p>"Give me a paper!" said the police officer. The +boy pulled out a paper from the package he was +carrying, and waved it over his head like a flag.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I understand, that interests you, Monsieur +Bernardet!"</p> + +<p>And while the little man looked for the heading +<i>Lutèce</i> in capital letters—the title which Paul +Rodier had given to a series of interviews with +celebrated physicians, the newsboy, giving Bernardet +his change, said:</p> + +<p>"To-morrow is the trial. But there is no doubt, +is there, Monsieur Bernardet? Pradès is condemned +in advance!"</p> + +<p>"He has confessed, it is an accomplished fact," +Bernardet replied, pocketing his change.</p> + +<p>"<i>Au revoir</i> and thanks, Monsieur Bernardet."</p> + +<p>And the newsboy, going on his way, cried out:</p> + +<p>"Ask for <i>Lutèce</i>—The Rovère trial! The affair +to-morrow! Paul Rodier's inquest on the eye of +the dead man!" His voice was at last drowned in +the noise of tramways and cabs.</p> + +<p>M. Bernardet hurried on. The little ones would +have become impatient, yes, yes, waiting for him, +and asking for him around the table at home. He +looked at the paper which he had bought. Paul +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 253]</span> +Rodier, in regard to the question which he, +Bernardet, had raised, had interviewed savants +physiologists, psychologists, and in good journalistic +style had published, the evening before the trial, +the result of his inquest.</p> + +<p>M. Bernardet read as he hastened along the long +titles in capitals in large head lines.</p> + +<p>"A Scientific Problem Àpropos of the Rovère +Affair!"</p> + +<p>"Questions of Medical Jurisprudence!"</p> + +<p>"The Eye of the Dead Man!"</p> + +<p>"Interviews and Opinions of MM. Les Docteurs +Brouardel, Roux, Duclaux, Pean, Robin, Pozzi, +Blum, Widal, Gilles de la Tourette"——</p> + +<p>Bernardet turned the leaves. The interviews +filled two pages at least in solid columns.</p> + +<p>"So much the better! So much the better!" +said the police officer enchanted. And hastening +along even faster, he said to himself:</p> + +<p>"I am going to read all that to the children; +yes, all that—it will amuse them—life is a romance +like any other! More incredible than any other! +And these questions; the unknown, the invisible, +all these problems—how interesting they are! And +the mystery—so amusing!"</p> + +<p>JULES CLARETIE of the French Academy; +Mrs. Carlton A. Kingsbury, Translator.</p> + +<hr class="hr2"/> + +<div class="tnote"> +<h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> + +<hr /> + +<p>For reasons unknown, the chapter headings show no Chapter XII and no +Chapter XV. The chapter headings were left unchanged. I am told that +both a copy of the physical book and the copy at The Interne Archive +have the same Chapter numbering sequence.</p> + +<p>On page 15, a quotation mark was placed before "But since you".</p> + +<p>On page 15, a quotation mark was placed before "But I am nothing".</p> + +<p>On page 35, "in so unforseen" was replaced with "in so unforeseen".</p> + +<p>On page 38, "the wordly magistrate" was replaced with "the worldly +magistrate".</p> + +<p>On page 40, the quotation mark after "which he wished to" was removed.</p> + +<p>On page 40, "the study of M. Rovèro" was replaced with "the study of +M. Rovère".</p> + +<p>On page 42, "to be exact, thirty-six" was replaced with "to be exact, +twenty-six years".</p> + +<p>On page 43, "14th of June, 1848" was replaced with "14th of June, 1868".</p> + +<p>On page 46, "devination" was replaced with "divination".</p> + +<p>On page 49, "reëntered the salon" was replaced with "reentered the +salon".</p> + +<p>On page 50, "des Aubrays" was replaced with "des Audrays".</p> + +<p>On page 61, "tatooings" was replaced with "tattooings".</p> + +<p>On page 64, a single quotation mark before "Art thou satisfied" was replaced with a double quotation mark.</p> + +<p>On page 82, "acqueous" was replaced with "aqueous".</p> + +<p>On page 85, "sixteerth" was replaced with "sixteenth".</p> + +<p>On page 91, "Mme. Monchie" was replaced with "Mme. Moniche".</p> + +<p>On page 99, "chosen by Mr. Rovère" was replaced with "chosen by +M. Rovère".</p> + +<p>On page 101, "mein" was replaced with "mien".</p> + +<p>On page 111, the period after "he replied" was replaced with a comma.</p> + +<p>On page 111, a paragraph marker was placed after "Why?".</p> + +<p>On page 121, the quotation mark was removed after "Rovère's murder?".</p> + +<p>On page 122, a period was placed after "of your biography".</p> + +<p>On page 129, the quotation mark was removed after "of death."</p> + +<p>On page 140, "Rovêre's" was replaced with "Rovère's".</p> + +<p>On page 146, "charcteristic" was replaced with "characteristic".</p> + +<p>On page 150, "portait which resembled" was replaced with "portrait which +resembled".</p> + +<p>On page 153, "Bernadet left enchanted" was replaced with "Bernardet +left enchanted".</p> + +<p>On page 164, "retain silent" was replaced with "remain silent".</p> + +<p>On page 171, "grey" was replaced with "gray".</p> + +<p>On page 224, "had came there" was replaced with "had come there".</p> + +<p>On page 230, "one mornnig" was replaced with "one morning".</p> + +<p>On page 230, "Prades, moreover" was replaced with "Pradès, moreover".</p> + +<p>On page 232, "my dear brother-in law" was replaced with "my dear +brother-in-law".</p> + +<p>On page 235, "necessity for fright" was replaced with "necessity for +flight."</p> + +<p>On page 241, "in the labratory" was replaced with "in the laboratory".</p> + +<p>On page 250, "chysanthemums" was replaced with "chrysanthemums".</p> + +<p>On page 251, "hurring" was replaced with "hurrying".</p> + +<p>On page 251, "Prades's" was replaced with "Pradès's".</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Crime of the Boulevard, by Jules Claretie + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF THE BOULEVARD *** + +***** This file should be named 34058-h.htm or 34058-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/0/5/34058/ + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Ernest Schaal, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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