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diff --git a/3987.txt b/3987.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..552ccb8 --- /dev/null +++ b/3987.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3642 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Conscience by Hector Malot, v2 +#74 in our series The French Immortals Crowned by the French Academy +#2 in our series by Hector Malot + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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Mechanically he walked about his room +without paying attention to what he was doing, as if he were in a state +of somnambulism, and it astonished him, because he never felt weariness +of mind any more than of body, no matter how little he had slept, nor how +hard he had worked. + +But suddenly, catching a glimpse of the knife that he had placed on the +mantel, he received a shock that annihilated his torpor and his fatigue. +It dazzled him like a flash of lightning. + +He took it, and, going to the window, he examined it by the pale light of +early morning. It was a strong instrument that, in a firm hand, would be +a terrible arm; newly sharpened, it had the edge of a razor. + +Then the idea, the vision that had come to him two hours before, came +back to him, clear and complete at nightfall, that is, at the moment when +the concierge was in the second wing of the building, he mounted to +Caffie's apartment without being seen, and with this knife he cut his +throat. It was as simple as it was easy, and this knife left beside the +corpse, and the nature of the wound, would lead the police to look for +a butcher, or at least a man who was in thehabit of using a knife of this +kind. + +The evening before, when he had discussed Caffie's death, the how and the +when still remained vague and uncertain. But now the day and the means +were definitely settled: it should be with this knife, and this evening. + +This shook him out of his torpor and made him shudder. + +He was angry with himself for this weakness. Did he know or did he not +know what he wished? Was he irresolute or cowardly? + +Then, going from one idea to another, he thought of an observation that +he had made, which appeared to prove that with many subjects there is +less firmness in the morning than in the evening. Was this the result of +dualism of the nervous centres, and was the human personality double like +the brain? Were there hours when the right hemisphere is master of our +will, and were there other hours when the left is master? Did one of +these hemispheres possess what the other lacked, and is it according to +the activity of this or that one, that one has such a character or such a +temperament? This would be curious, and would amount to saying that, a +lamb in the morning, one might be a tiger at evening. With him it was a +lamb that woke in the morning to be devoured by a tiger during the day. +To which hemisphere belonged the one and the other of these +personalities? + +He was angry with himself for yielding to these reflections; it was a +time, truly, to study this psychological question! It was of Caffie that +he should think, and of the plan which in an instant flashed through his +mind in the street, before he decided to pick up this knife. + +Evidently things were neither so simple nor so easy as they at first +appeared, and to insure the success of his plan a combination of +circumstances was necessary, which might be difficult to bring about. + +Would not the concierge see him pass? Would no one go up or down the +stairs? Would Caffie be alone? Would he open the door? Might not some +one ring after he had entered? + +Here was a series of questions that he had not thought of before, but +which now presented itself. + +He must examine them, weigh them, and not throw himself giddily into an +adventure that presented such risks. + +He was alone all day, fortunately, and, as in the state of agitation in +which he found himself he could not think of work, he gave himself up to +this examination. The stakes were worth the trouble--his honor and his +life. + +As soon as he was dressed he went out, and walked straight before him +through the streets that were already filled with people. + +It was only when he had left the heart of Paris that he could reflect as +he wished, without being disturbed each instant by people in a hurry, for +whom he must make way, or by others who, reading the newspapers, did not +look before them, and so jostled against him. + +Evidently the risks were more serious than he had imagined; and, as they +loomed up before him, he asked himself whether he should go on. To +suppress Caffie, yes; to give himself up, no. + +"If it is impossible--" + +He was not the man to set himself wildly against the impossible: he +should have had a dream, a bad dream, and that would be all. + +He stopped, and, after a moment of hesitation, turning on his heel, he +retraced his steps. Of what use was it to go farther? He had no need to +reflect nor to weigh the pro and con; he must give up this plan; +decidedly it was too dangerous. + +He had gone but a short distance when he asked himself whether these +dangers were such as he saw them, and whether he were face to face with a +radically demonstrated impossibility. + +Without doubt, the concierge might observe him when he passed her lodge, +either on going up-stairs or coming down; and, also, she might not +observe him. This, in reality, depended much upon himself, and on his +method of proceeding. + +Every evening this lame old concierge lighted the gas in the two wings of +the building, one on the street and one on the court. She began by +lighting that on the street, and, with the difficulty that she found in +walking, it should take her some time to climb the five stories and to +descend. If one watched from the street when, at dusk, she left her +lodge with a wax taper in her hand, and mounted the stairs behind her, at +a little distance, in such a way as to be on the landing of the first +story when she should reach the second, there would be time, the deed +done, to regain the street before she returned to her lodge, after having +lighted the gas on the two staircases. It was important to proceed +methodically, without hurry, but, also, without loitering. + +Was this impossible? + +Here, exactly, was the delicate point which he must examine with +composure, without permitting himself to be influenced by any other +consideration than that which sprang from the deed itself. + +He was wrong, then, not to continue his route, and it was better, +assuredly, to get out of Paris. In the country, in the fields or woods, +he could find the calm that was indispensable to his over-excited brain, +in which ideas clashed like the waves of a disturbed sea. + +He was at this moment in the middle of the Faubourg Saint Honore; he +followed a street that would bring him to the Champs Elysees, a desert at +this early hour. + +It took him some time to examine all the hypotheses that might present +themselves, and he reached the conclusion that what had appeared +impossible to him was not so. If he preserved his calmness, and did not +lose perception of the passing time, he could very well escape the +concierge, which was the main point. + +To tell the truth, the danger of the concierge removed, all was not easy. +There was the possibility of meeting one of the lodgers on the stairs; +there was a chance of not finding Caffie at home, or, at least, not +alone; or the bell might ring at the decisive moment. But, as everything +depended upon chance, these circumstances could not be decided +beforehand. It was a risk. If one of them happened, he would wait until +the next day; it would be one more day of agitation to live through. + +But one question that should be decided in advance, because, surely, it +presented serious dangers, was how he should justify the coming into his +hands of a sum of money which, providentially and in the nick of time, +relieved him from the embarrassments against which he struggled. + +He had reached the Bois de Boulogne and still continued his walk. In +passing a fountain the rippling of the water attracted his attention, and +he stopped. Although the weather was damp and cold under the influence +of a strong west wind charged with rain, his tongue was dry; he drank two +goblets of water, and then pursued his way, indifferent where he went. + +Then he built up an arrangement which appeared ingenious to him, when it +occurred to him to remember that he had gone to Caffie to borrow three +thousand francs. Why would he not lend it to him, if not the first day, +at least the second? With this loan he paid his debts, if he were +questioned on this point. To prove this loan he need only to sign a +receipt which he could place in the safe, and which would be found there. +Would not the first thought of those who had signed a paper of this kind +be to take it when an occasion presented itself? As he would not seize +this occasion to carry off his note, it would be the proof that he had +not opened the safe. + +Among other advantages, this arrangement did away with robbery; it was +only a loan. Later he would return these three thousand francs to +Caffies heirs. So much the worse for him if it were a forced loan. + +On returning to Paris he would buy a sheet of stamped paper, and as he +had asked the price the previous evening, he knew that he could afford +the expense. + +When he reached Saint Cloud he entered a tavern and ordered some bread +and cheese and wine. But if he drank little, he ate less, his parched +throat refusing to swallow bread. + +He took up his march in the clayey streets on the slope of Mont Valerian, +but he was insensible to the unpleasantness of slipping on the soft soil, +and walked hither and thither, his only care being not to get too far +away from the Seine, so that he might enter Paris before night. + +He was delighted since he had made up his mind to make out and sign a +receipt for the money. But on giving it further consideration, he +perceived that it was not so ingenious as he had at first supposed. Do +not the dealers of stamped paper often number their paper? With this +number it would be easy to find the dealer and him who had bought it. +And then, was it not likely that a scrupulous business man like Caffie +would keep a record of the loans he made, and would not the absence of +this one and the note be sufficient to awaken suspicion and to direct it +to him? + +Decidedly, he only escaped one danger to fall into another. + +For a moment he was discouraged, but it did not go so far as weakness. +His error had been in imagining that the execution of the idea that had +come to him while picking up the knife was as plain as it was easy. But +complicated and perilous as it was, it was not impossible. + +The question which finally stood before him was, to know whether he +possessed the force needed to cope with these dangers, and on this ground +hesitation was not possible; to wish to foresee everything was folly; +that which he would not have expected, would come to pass. + +He returned toward Paris, and by the Pont de Suresnes reentered the Bois +de Boulogne. As it was not yet three o'clock, he had plenty of time to +reach the Rue Sainte-Anne before night; but, on the way, a heavy shower +forced him to take shelter, and he watched the falling rain, asking +himself if this accident, which he had not foreseen, would not upset his +plan. A man who had received the force of this shower could not appear +in the street before Caffie's door without attracting the attention of +the passers-by, and it was important for him that he should not attract +the attention of any one. + +At length the rain ceased, and at twenty minutes of five he reached his +home. There remained fifteen or twenty minutes of daylight, which was +more than he needed. + +He stuck the point of the knife in a cork, and, after having placed it +between the folded leaves of a newspaper, in the inside left-hand pocket +of his overcoat, he went out. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE CRUCIAL MOMENT + +When he reached Caffies door the night had scarcely fallen, and the +streets were not yet lighted. + +The better and the surest plan for him had been to wait in the 'porte- +cochere' across the street; from there he could watch the 'concierge', +who would not be able to go out without being seen by him. But though +the passers were few at this moment, they might have observed him. +Next to this 'porte-cochere' was a small 'cafe', whose brilliant lights +would cause him to be seen quite plainly. He, therefore, walked on, +but soon returned. + +All irresolution, all hesitation, had disappeared, and the only point on +which he still questioned himself bore upon the state in which he found +himself at this moment. He felt himself firm, and his pulse, he was +certain, beat regularly. He was as he had imagined he would be; +experience confirmed his foresight; his hand would tremble no more than +his will. + +As he passed before the house he saw the concierge come slowly out of her +lodge and close her door carefully, putting the key in her pocket. In +her left hand she held something white that he could not see distinctly +in the twilight, but it was probably the wax-taper which, doubtless, she +had not lighted for fear the wind would blow it out. + +This was a favorable circumstance, that gave him one or two minutes more +than he had counted on, for she would be obliged to strike a match on the +stairs to light her taper; and, in the execution of his plan, two +minutes, a single minute even, might be of great importance. + +With dragging steps and bent back she disappeared through the vestibule +of the stairway. Then Saniel continued his walk like an ordinary passer- +by until she had time to reach the first story; then, turning, he +returned to the porte-cochere and entered quietly. By the gaslight in +the vestibule he saw by his watch, which he held in his hand, that it was +fourteen minutes after five o'clock. Then, if his calculation was right, +at twenty-four or twenty-five minutes after five he must pass before the +lodge, which should still be empty at that moment. + +On the staircase above him he heard the heavy step of the concierge; she +had lighted the gas on the first story, and continued on her way slowly. +With rapid but light steps he mounted behind her, and, on reaching +Caffie's door, he rang the bell, taking care not to ring too loudly or +too timidly; then he knocked three times, as Caffie had instructed him. + +Was Caffie alone? + +Up to this time all had gone as he wished; no one in the vestibule, no +one on the stairs; fate was in his favor; would it accompany him to the +end? + +While he waited at the door, asking himself this question, an idea +flashed into his mind. He would make a last attempt. If Caffie +consented to make the loan he would save himself; if he refused, he +condemned himself. + +After several seconds, that appeared like hours, his listening ears +perceived a sound which announced that Caffie was at home. A scratching +of wood on the tiled floor denoted that a chair had been pushed aside; +heavy, dragging steps approached, then the bolt creaked, and the door was +opened cautiously. + +"Ah! It is you, my dear sir!" Caffie said, in surprise. + +Saniel entered briskly and closed the door himself, pressing it firmly. + +"Is there anything new?" Caffie asked, as he led the way to his office. + +"No," Saniel replied. + +"Well, then?" Caffie asked, as he seated himself in an armchair before +his desk, on which stood a lighted lamp. "I suppose you have come to +hear more about my young friend. This hurry augurs well." + +"No, it is not of the young person that I wish to talk to you." + +"I am sorry." + +On seating himself opposite to Caffie, Saniel had taken out his watch. +Two minutes had passed since he left the vestibule; he must hurry. In +order to keep himself informed of the passing of time, he retained his +watch in his hand. + +"Are you in a hurry?" + +"Yes; I will come immediately to business. It concerns myself, my +position, and I make a last appeal to you. Let us be honest with each +other. Undoubtedly you think that, pushed by my distress, and seeing +that I shall be lost forever, I shall decide to accept this marriage to +save myself." + +"Can you suppose such a thing, my dear sir?" Caffie cried. + +But Saniel stopped him.... + +"The calculation is too natural for you not to have made it. Well, I +must tell you that it is false. Never will I lend myself to such a +bargain. Renounce your project, and let us discuss my demand. I am in +absolute want of three thousand francs, and I will pay the interest that +you fix upon." + +"I have not found a money-lender, my dear sir. I have taken a great deal +of trouble, I assure you, but I did not succeed." + +"Make an effort yourself." + +"Me? My dear sir!" + +"I address myself to you." + +"But I have no ready money." + +"It is a desperate appeal that I make. I understand that your long +experience in business makes you insensible to the misery that you see +every day--" + +"Insensible! Say that it breaks my heart, my dear sir." + +"But will you not permit yourself to be touched by the misery of a man +who is young, intelligent, courageous, who will drown if a hand is not +held out to help him? For you, the assistance that I ask so earnestly is +nothing--" + +"Three thousand francs! Nothing! Bless me! How you talk!" + +"For me, if you refuse me, it is death." + +Saniel began to speak with his eyes fixed on the hands of his watch, but +presently, carried away by the fever of the situation, he raised them to +look at Caffie, and to see the effect that he produced on him. In this +movement he made a discovery that destroyed all his calculations. + +Caffie's office was a small room with a high window looking into the +court; never having been in this office except in the evening, he had not +observed that this window had neither shutters nor curtains of muslin or +of heavier stuff; there was nothing but the glass. To tell the truth, +two heavy curtains of woollen damask hung on either side of the window, +but they were not drawn. Talking to Caffie, who was placed between him +and this window, Saniel suddenly perceived that on the other side of the +court, in the second wing of the building, on the second story, were two +lighted windows directly opposite to the office, and that from there any +one could see everything that occurred in the office. + +How should he execute his plan under the eyes of these people whom he saw +coming and going in this room? He would be lost. In any case, it was +risking an adventure so hazardous that he would be a fool to attempt it, +and he was not that; never had he felt himself so much the master of his +mind and nerves. + +Also, it was not only to save Caffie's life that he argued, it was to save +himself in grasping this loan. + +"I can only, to my great regret, repeat to you what I have already said, +my dear sir. I have no ready money." + +And he held his jaw, groaning, as if this refusal aroused his toothache. + +Saniel rose; evidently there was nothing for him to do but to go. It was +finished, and instead of being in despair he felt it as a relief. + +But, as he was about to leave the room, an idea flashed through his mind. + +He looked at his watch, which he had not consulted for some time; it was +twenty minutes after five; there yet remained four minutes, five at the +most. + +"Why do you not draw these curtains?" he said. "I am sure your +sufferings are partly caused by the wind that comes in this window." + +"Do you think so?" + +"I am sure of it; you should be warm about the head, and avoid currents +of air." + +Passing behind Caffie, he went to the window to draw the curtains, but +the cords would not move. + +"It is years since they were drawn," Caffie said. "Doubtless the cords +are entangled. I will bring the light." + +And, taking the lamp, he went to the window, holding it high in order to +throw light on the cords. + +With a turn of the hand Saniel disentangled the cords, and the curtains +slid on the rods, almost covering the window. + +"It is true a good deal of air did come in the window," Caffie said. +"I thank you, my dear doctor." + +All this was done with a feverish rapidity that astonished Caffie. + +"Decidedly, you are in a hurry," he said. + +"Yes, in a great hurry." + +He looked at his watch. + +"However, I have still time to give you a consultation if you desire it." + +"I would not trouble you--" + +"You do not trouble me." + +"But--" + +"Sit down in your armchair, and show me your mouth." + +While Caffie seated himself, Saniel continued in a vibrating voice: + +"You see I give good for evil." + +"How is that, my dear sir?" + +"You refuse me a service that would save me, and I give you a +consultation. It is true, it is the last." + +"And why the last, my dear sir?" + +"Because death is between us." + +"Death!" + +"Do you not see it?" + +"No." + +"I see it." + +"You must not think of such a thing, my dear sir. One does not die +because one cannot pay three thousand francs." + +The chair in which Caffie seated himself was an old Voltaire, with an +inclined back, and he half reclined in it. As his shirtcollar was too +large for him since he had become thin, and his narrow cravat was +scarcely tied, he displayed as much throat as jaw. + +Saniel, behind the chair, had taken the knife in his right hand, while he +pressed the left heavily on Caffies forehead, and with a powerful stroke, +as quick as lightning, he cut the larynx under the glottis, as well as +the two carotid arteries, with the jugular veins. From this terrible +wound sprang a large jet of blood, which, crossing the room, struck +against the door. Cut clean, not a cry could be formed in the windpipe, +and in his armchair Caffie shook with convulsions from head to foot. + +Leaving his position behind the chair, Saniel, who had thrown the knife +on the floor, looked at his watch and counted the ticking of the second- +hand in a low voice. + +"One, two, three-" + +At the end of ninety seconds the convulsions ceased. + +It was twenty-three minutes after five. Now it was important that he +should hurry and not lose a second. + +The blood, after having gushed out, had run down the body and wet the +vest pocket in which was the key of the safe. But blood does not produce +the same effect upon a doctor as upon those who are not accustomed to its +sight and odor, and to its touch. In spite of the lukewarm sea in which +it lay, Saniel took the key, and after wiping his hand on one of the +tails of Caffie's coat, he placed it in the lock. + +Would it turn freely, or was it closed with a combination? The question +was poignant. The key turned and the door opened. On a shelf and in a +wooden bowl were packages of bank-notes and rolls of gold that he had +seen the evening when the bank-clerk came. Roughly, without counting; he +thrust them into his pocket, and without closing the safe, he ran to the +front door, taking care not to step in the streams of blood, which, on +the sloping tiled floor, ran toward this door. The time was short. + +And now was the greatest danger, that of meeting some one behind this +door, or on the stairs. He listened, and heard no noise. He went out, +and no one was to be seen. Without running, but hastily, he descended +the stairs. Should he look in the lodge, or should he turn his head +away? He looked, but the concierge was not there. + +A second later he was in the street mingling with the passersby, and he +drew a long breath. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +DISTRACTION + +There was no longer any need to be cautious, to listen, to stretch his +nerves, to restrain his heart; he could walk freely and reflect. + +His first thought was to endeavor to explain to himself how he felt, and +he found that it was an immense relief; something, doubtless, analogous +to the returning to life after being in a state of asphyxiation. +Physically, he was calm; morally, he felt no remorse. He was right, +therefore, in his theory when he told Phillis that in the intelligent man +remorse precedes the action, instead of following it. + +But where he was mistaken was in imagining that during the act he should +maintain his coolness and force, which, in reality, had failed him +completely. + +Going from one idea to another, tossed by irresolution, he was by no +means the strong man that he had believed himself: one to go to the end +unmoved, ready to face every attack; master of his nerves as of his will, +in full possession of all his powers. On the contrary, he had been the +plaything of agitation and weakness. If a serious danger had risen. +before him, he would not have known on which side to attack it; fear +would have paralyzed him, and he would have been lost. + +To tell the truth, his hand had been firm, but his head had been +bewildered. + +There was something humiliating in this, he was obliged to acknowledge; +and, what was more serious, it was alarming. Because, although +everything had gone as he wished, up to the present time, all was not +finished, nor even begun. + +If the investigations of the law should reach him, how should he defend +himself? + +He felt sure that he had not been seen in Caffies house at the moment +when the crime was committed; but does one ever know whether one has been +seen or not? + +And there was the production of money that he should use to pay his +debts, which might become an accusation against which it would be +difficult to defend himself. In any case, he must be ready to explain +his position. And what might complicate the matter was, that Caffie, a +careful man, had probably taken care to write the numbers of his bank- +notes in a book, which would be found. + +On leaving the Rue Sainte-Anne he took the Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Champs to +his home, to leave the bank-notes and to wash off the stains of blood +that might have splashed on him and his hands, particularly the right +one, which was still red. But suddenly it occurred to him that he might +be followed, and it would be folly to show where he lived. He hastened +his steps, in order to make any one who might be following him run, and +took the streets that were not well lighted, those where there was little +chance of any one seeing the stains, if they were visible, on his +clothing or boots. He walked in this way for nearly half an hour, +turning and returning on his track, and after having crossed the Place +Vendome twice, where he was able to look behind him, he decided to go +home, not knowing whether he should be satisfied to have bewildered all +quest, or whether he should not be furious to have yielded to a sort of +panic. + +As he passed by the lodge without stopping, his concierge called him, +and, running out, gave him a letter with unusual eagerness. Saniel, who +wished to escape observation, took it hastily, and stuffed it into his +pocket. + +"It is an important letter," the concierge said. "The servant who +brought it told me that it contained money." + +It needed this recommendation at such a moment, or Saniel would not have +opened it, which he did as soon as he entered his rooms. + + "I do not wish, my dear Doctor, to leave Paris for Monaco, where I + go to pass two or three months, without sending you our thanks. + + "Yours very gratefully, + "C. DUPHOT." + +These thanks were represented by two bills of one hundred francs, a +payment more than sufficient for the care that Saniel had given some +months before to the mistress of this old comrade. Of what use now were +these two hundred francs, which a few days sooner would have been so much +to him? He threw them on his desk; and then, after having lighted two +candles, he inspected his clothing. + +The precaution that he had taken to place himself behind the chair was +wise. The blood, in squirting in front and on each side, had not reached +him; only the hand that held the knife and the shirt-sleeve were +splashed, but this was of no consequence. A doctor has the right to have +some blood on his sleeves, and this shirt went to join the one he had +worn the previous night when attending the sick woman. + +Free from this care, he still had the money in his pockets. He emptied +them on his desk and counted all: five rouleaux of gold, of a thousand +francs, and three packages of ten thousand francs each, of bank-notes. + +How should he get rid of this sum all at once, and, later, how should he +justify its production when the moment came, if it came? + +The question was complex, and, unfortunately for him, he was hardly in a +state to consider it calmly. + +For the gold, he had only to burn the papers in which it was rolled. +Louis have neither numbers nor particular marks, but bills have. Where +should he conceal them while waiting to learn through the newspapers if +Caffie had or had not made a note of these numbers? + +While burning these papers on which Caffie had written "2,000 francs," +he tried to think of a place of concealment. + +As he threw a glance around him, asking from things the inspiration that +his brain did not furnish, he caught sight of the letter he had just +received, and it suggested an idea. Duphot was at Monaco to play. Why +should he not go also, and play? + +Having neither relatives nor friends from whom he could procure a certain +sum, his only resource was to make it at play; and in his desperate +position, known to every one, nothing was more natural than this +experiment. He had received two hundred francs, which would not save him +from his creditors. He would risk them at roulette at Monaco. Whether +he lost or won was of little consequence. He would have played that +would be sufficient. He would be seen playing. Who would know whether +he lost or won? From Monaco he would pay Jardine by telegraph, out of +the five thousand Louis, which would be more than sufficient for that; +and, when he returned to Paris, he would free himself from his other +creditors with what remained. + +The money affair decided--and it seemed to him cleverly settled--did not +include the bank-notes, which, spread out before his eyes, disturbed him. +What should he do with them? One moment he thought of burning them, but +reflection held him back. Would it not be folly to destroy this fortune? +In any case, would it not be the work of a narrow mind, of one not +fertile in resources? + +In trying to think of some safe place to hide the banknotes, one thought +continually absorbed him: What was happening in the Rue Sainte-Anne? Had +any one discovered the dead man? + +He should be there to observe events, instead of timidly shutting himself +up in his office. + +For several minutes he tried to resist this thought, but it was stronger +than his will or his reason. So much was he under its power that he +could do nothing. + +Willing or unwilling, foolish or not, he must go to the Rue Sainte-Anne. + +He washed his hands, changed his shirt, and throwing the notes and gold +into a drawer, he went out. + +He knew very well that there was a certain danger in leaving these proofs +of the crime, which, found in an official search, would overwhelm him, +without his being able to defend himself. But he thought that an +immediate search was unlikely to occur, and if he could not make a +probable story, it would be better for him not to reason about it. It +was a risk that he ran, but how much he had on his side! + +He hastened along the Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Champs, but on approaching the +Rue Sainte-Anne he slackened his steps, looking about him and listening. +Nothing unusual struck him. Even when he turned into the Rue Sainte-Anne +he found it bore its ordinary aspect. A few passers-by, not curious; no +groups on the sidewalk; no shopkeepers at their doors. Nothing was +different from usual. + +Apparently, nothing had yet been discovered. Then he stopped, judging it +useless to go farther. Already he had passed too much time before +Caffie's door, and when one was of his build, above the medium height, +with a physiognomy and appearance unlike others, one should avoid +attracting attention. + +For several minutes he walked up and down slowly, from the Rue Neuve-des- +Petits-Champs to the Rue du Hasard; from there he could see Caffie's +house, and yet be so far away that no one would suspect him of watching +it. + +But this promenade, which was quite natural, and which he would have +continued for an hour in ordinary circumstances, without thinking +anything about it, soon alarmed him. It seemed as if people looked at +him, and two persons stopping to talk made him wonder if they spoke of +him. Why did they not continue their way? Why, from time to time, did +they turn their heads toward him? + +He left the place, and neither wishing nor being able to decide to go far +away from "the house," he concluded to go to a small cafe which was close +by. + +On entering, he seated himself at a table near the door that appeared to +be an excellent observatory, from where he could easily survey the +street. A waiter asked him what he would have, and he ordered coffee. + +He gave this order mechanically, without thinking what he was saying, and +not till afterward did he wonder if it were natural to take coffee at +this hour. The men seated at the other tables drank appetizers or beer. +Had he not made a blunder? + +But everything seemed a blunder, as everything seemed dangerous. Could +he not regain his composure and his reason? He drank his coffee slowly; +then he asked for a newspaper. The street was quiet, and people left the +cafe one by one. + +Behind his newspaper he reflected. It was his feverish curiosity that +made him admit that Caffie's death would be discovered during the +evening. In reality, it might easily remain undiscovered until the next +day. + +But he could not stay in the cafe until the next day, nor even until +midnight. Perhaps he had remained there too long already. + +He did not wish to go yet, so he ordered writing materials, and paid the +waiter, in case he might wish to go hastily--if anything occurred. + +What should he write? He wished to test himself, and found that he was +able to write clearly, and to select the proper words; but when he came +to read it over, his will failed him. + +Time passed. Suddenly there was a movement under the porte-cochere of +"the house," and a man ran through the street. Two or three persons +stopped in a group. + +Without hurrying too much, Saniel went out, and in a strong voice asked +what had happened. + +"An agent of business has been assassinated in his office. Word has been +sent to the police bureau in the Rue du Hasard." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE EXAMINATION + +Saniel was there to observe, without having decided what he should do. +Instantly, with the decision that had "failed him so often during his +vigil," he resolved to go to Caffie's. Was he not a doctor, and the +physician of the dead-man? What could be more natural? + +"A money-lender!" he exclaimed. "Is it Monsieur Caffie?" + +"Exactly." + +"But I am his doctor." + +"A doctor! Here is a doctor!" cried several voices. + +The crowd parted, and Saniel passed under the porte-cochere, where the +concierge, half fainting, was seated on a chair, surrounded by all the +maids of the house and several neighbors, to whom she related the news. + +By using his elbows he was able to approach her. + +"Who has said Monsieur Caffie is dead?" he asked with authority. + +"No one has said he is dead; at least, I have not." + +"Well, then?" + +"There is a stain of blood that has run from his office down to the +landing; and as he is at home, since the light of his lamp is seen in the +court, and he never leaves it burning when he goes to dinner, something +must have happened. And why are his curtains drawn? He always leaves +them open." + +At this moment two policemen appeared, preceded by a locksmith armed with +a bunch of keys, and a little man with a shrewd, sharp appearance, +wearing spectacles, and a hat from under which fell blond curls. The +commissioner of police probably. + +"On which story?" he asked the concierge. + +"On the first." + +"Come with us." + +He started to go upstairs, accompanied by the concierge, the locksmith, +and one of the policemen; Saniel wished to follow them, but the other +policeman barred the way. + +"Pardon, Monsieur Commissioner," Saniel said. + +"What do you wish, sir?" + +"I am Monsieur Caffie's physician." + +"Your name?" + +"Doctor Saniel." + +"Let the doctor pass," the commissioner said, "but alone. Make every one +go out, and shut the porte-cochere." + +On reaching the landing the commissioner stopped to look at the brown +stain which, running under the door, spread over the tiling, as Caffie +never had had a mat. + +"It is certainly a stain of blood," Saniel said, who stopped to examine +it and dipped his finger in it. + +"Open the door," the commissioner said to the locksmith. + +The latter examined the lock, looked among his keys, selected one, and +unlocked the door. + +"Let no one enter," the commissioner said. "Doctor, have the goodness to +follow me." + +And, going ahead, he entered the first office, that of the clerk, +followed by Saniel. Two little rills of blood, already thickened, +starting from Caffie's chair, and running across the tiled floor, which +sloped a little toward the side of the staircase, joined in the stain +which caused the discovery of the crime. The commissioner and Saniel +took care not to step in it. + +"The unfortunate man has had his throat cut," Saniel said. "Death must +have occurred two or three hours ago. There is nothing to do." + +"Speak for yourself, doctor." + +And, stooping, he picked up the knife. + +"Is it not a butcher's knife?" asked Saniel, who could only use this +word. + +"It looks like it." + +He had raised Caffie's head and examined the wound. + +"You see," he said, "that the victim has been butchered. The stroke was +from left to right, by a firm hand which must be accustomed to handle +this knife. But it is not only a strong and practised hand that has done +this deed; it was guided by an intelligence that knew how to proceed to +insure a quick, almost instantaneous death, and at the same time a silent +one." + +"You think it was done by a butcher?" + +"By a professional killer; the larynx has been cut above the glottis, and +with the same stroke the two carotid arteries, with the jugular veins. +As the assassin had to raise the head, the victim was not able to cry +out; considerable blood has flowed, and death must have ensued in one or +two minutes." + +"The scene appears to me very well reconstructed." + +"The blood should have burst out in this direction," Saniel continued, +pointing to the door. "But as this door was open, nothing is to be +seen." + +While Saniel spoke, the commissioner threw a glance about the room--the +glance of the police, which takes in everything. + +"The safe is open," he said. "The affair becomes clear; the +assassination was followed by theft." + +There was a door opposite to the entrance, which the commissioner opened; +it was that of Caffie's bedroom. + +"I will give you a man to help you carry the body into this room, where +you can continue your examination more easily, while I will continue my +investigations in this office." + +Saniel would have liked to remain in the office to assist at these +investigations, but it was impossible to raise an objection. The chair +was rolled into the bedroom, where two candles had been lighted on the +mantel, and when the body was laid on the bed, the commissioner returned +to the office. + +Saniel made his examination last as long a time as possible, to the end +that he need not leave the house; but he could not prolong it beyond +certain limits. When they were reached, he returned to the clerk's +office, where the commissioner had installed himself, and was hearing the +concierge's deposition. + +"And so," he said, "from five to seven o'clock no one asked for M. +Caffie?" + +"No one. But I left my lodge at a quarter past five to light the gas on +the stairs; that took me twenty minutes, because I am stiff in my joints, +and during this time some one might have gone up and down the stairs +without my seeing them." + +"Well," the commissioner said, turning to Saniel, "have you found any +distinguishing feature?" + +"No; there is only the wound on the neck." + +"Will you draw up your medico-legal report while I continue my inquest?" + +"Willingly." + +And, without waiting, he seated himself at the clerk's desk, facing the +commissioner's secretary, who had arrived a few minutes previous. + +"I am going to make you take the oath," the commissioner said. + +After this formality Saniel began his report: + +"We, the undersigned, Victor Saniel, doctor of medicine of the Paris +Faculty, residing in Paris in the Rue Louis-le-Grand, after having +taken an oath to fulfil in all honor and conscience the mission confided +to us--" + +All the time that he was writing he paid attention to everything that was +said, and did not lose one word of the concierge's deposition. + +"I am certain," she said, "that from half-past five until now no one has +gone up or down the stairs but the people who live in the house." + +"But before half-past five?" + +"I have told you that from a quarter past five until half-past I was not +in my lodge." + +"And before a quarter past five o'clock?" + +"Several persons passed whom I did not know." + +"Did any one among them ask you for Monsieur Caffie?" + +"No; that is to say, yes. There was one who asked me if Monsieur Caffie +was at home; but I know him well; that is why I answered No." + +"And who is he?" + +"One of Monsieur Caffies old clerks." + +"His name?" + +"Monsieur Florentin--Monsieur Florentin Cormier." + +Saniel's hand was arrested at this name, but he did not raise his head. + +"At what hour did he come?" asked the commissioner. + +"Near three o'clock, before rather than after." + +"Did you see him go away?" + +"Certainly, he spoke to me." + +"What time was it?" + +"Half-past three." + +"Do you think that death could have occurred at this moment?" the +commissioner asked, turning to Saniel. + +"No; I think it must have been between five and six o'clock." + +"It is wrong for the commissioner to suspect Monsieur Florentin," cried +the concierge. "He is a good young man, incapable of harming a fly. And +then, there is a good reason why death could not have taken place between +three o'clock and half-past; it is that Monsieur Caffie's lamp was +lighted, and you know the poor gentleman was not a man to light his lamp +in broad daylight, looking as he was--" + +She stopped abruptly, striking her forehead with her hand. + +"That is what I remember, and you will see that Monsieur Florentin has +nothing to do with this affair. As I went upstairs at a quarter past +five to light my gas, some one came behind me and rang Monsieur Caffie's +bell, and rapped three or four times at equal distances, which is the +signal to open the door." + +Again Saniel's pen stopped, and he was obliged to lean his hand on the +table to prevent its trembling. + +"Who was it?" + +"Ah! That I do not know," she answered. "I did not see him, but I heard +him, the step of a man. It was this rascal who killed him, you may be +sure." + +This seemed likely. + +"He went out while I was on the stairs; he knew the customs of the +house." + +Saniel continued his report. + +After having questioned and cross-questioned the concierge without being +able to make her say more, the commissioner dismissed her, and leaving +Saniel at his work, he passed into Caffie's office, where he remained a +long time. + +When he returned he brought a small note-book that he consulted. Without +doubt it was the book of Caffie's safe, simple and primitive, like +everything relating to the old man's habits, governed by the narrowest +economy in his expenses, as well as in his work. + +"According to this note-book," the commissioner said to his secretary, " +thirty-five or thirty-six thousand francs must have been taken from the +safe; but there are left deeds and papers for a large sum." + +Saniel, who had finished his report, did not take his eyes from the note- +book, and what he could see reassured him. Evidently these accounts were +reduced to a minimum: a date, a name, a sum, and after this name a +capital P, which, without doubt, meant "paid." It was hardly possible +that with such a system Caffie had ever taken the trouble to enter the +number of the bills that had passed through his hands; in any case, if he +did, it was not in this note-book. Would another one be found? + +"My report is finished," he said. "Here it is." + +"Since you are here, perhaps you can give me some information concerning +the habits of the victim and the persons he received." + +"Not at all. I have known him but a short time, and he was my patient, +as I was his client, by accident. He undertook an affair for me, and I +gave him advice; he was in the last stage of diabetes. The assassin +hastened his death only a short time-a few days." + +"That is nothing; he hastened it." + +"Oh, certainly! Otherwise, if he is skilful in cutting throats, perhaps +he is less so in making a diagnosis of their maladies." + +"That is probable," responded the commissioner, smiling. "You think it +was a butcher?" + +"It seems probable." + +"The knife?" + +"He might have stolen it or found it." + +"But the mode of operating?" + +"That, it seems to me, is the point from where we should start." + +Saniel could remain no longer, and he rose to leave. + +"You have my address," he said; "but I must tell you, if you want me, I +leave to-morrow for Nice. But I shall be absent only just long enough to +go and return." + +"If we want you, it will not be for several days. We shall not get on +very rapidly, we have so little to guide us." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A NEW PLAN + +Saniel walked home briskly. If, more than once during this interview, +his emotion was poignant, he could not but be satisfied with the result. +The concierge had not seen him, that was henceforth unquestionable; the +hypothesis of the butcher's knife was put in a way to make his fortune; +and it seemed probable that Caffie had not kept the numbers of the bank- +notes. + +But if they had been noted, and should the notebook containing them be +discovered later, the danger was not immediate. While writing his report +and listening to the concierge's deposition, by a sort of inspiration he +thought of a way of disposing of them. He would divide them into small +packages, place them in envelopes, and address them with different +initials to the poste restante, where they would remain until he could +call for them without compromising himself. + +In the deposition of the concierge, in the track indicated by the knife, +in the poste restante, he had just motives for satisfaction, that made +him breathe freely. Decidedly, fate seemed to be with him, and he should +have been able to say that everything was going well, if he had not +committed the imprudence of entering the cafe. Why had he gone there +and remained long enough to attract attention? What might not be the +consequences of this stupidity? + +As soon as he reached home and his door was closed, he carried out his +intentions regarding the bank-notes, dividing them into ten packages. +His first thought was to place them in the nearest letterbox, but +reflection showed him that this would be unwise, and he decided to mail +each one in a different quarter of the city. + +After his long walk of the morning, and the emotions of the evening, he +felt a fatigue that he had never known before, but he comprehended that +he was not at liberty to yield to this weariness. A new situation was +made for him, and henceforth he no longer belonged to himself. For the +rest of his life he would be the prisoner of his crime. And it was this +crime which, from this evening, would command, and he must obey. + +Why had he not foreseen this situation when, weighing the pro and con +like an intelligent man who can scrutinize the future under all its +phases, he had examined what must happen? But surprising as it was, +the discovery was no less certain, and the sad and troublesome proof was +that, however intelligent one may be, one can always learn by experience. + +What was there yet to learn? He confessed that he found himself face to +face with the unknown, and all that he wished was, that this lesson he +had learned from experience might be the hardest. It would be folly to +imagine that it was the last. Time would show. + +When he returned home, after posting his letters, it was long past one +o'clock. He went to bed immediately, and slept heavily, without waking +or dreaming. + +It was broad daylight when he opened his eyes the next morning. +Surprised at having slept so late, he jumped up and looked at his watch, +which said eight o'clock. But as he should not leave until a quarter +past eleven, he had plenty of time. + +How should he employ it? + +It was the first time in years that he had asked himself such a question; +he, who each day always found that he needed three or four hours more to +carry out his programme. + +He dressed slowly, and then thought of writing to Phillis to tell her of +his trip to Nice. But suddenly he changed his mind, and decided to go to +see her. + +The preceding year he attended Madame Cormier, who had been stricken with +paralysis, and he could occasionally present himself at her house without +appearing to call upon Phillis. It was easy to say that he was passing +by, and wished to learn news of the patient whom he had cured. + +At nine o'clock he knocked at her door. + +"Enter," a man's voice said. + +He was surprised, for in his visits to Madame Cormier he had never seen a +man there. He crossed the hall and knocked at the dining-room door. +This time it was Phillis who bid him come in. + +He opened the door and saw Phillis, in a gray blouse, seated before a +large table placed by the window. She was painting some cards. + +Hearing steps, she turned her head and instantly rose, but she restrained +the cry-the name that was on her lips. + +"Mamma," she said, "here is Doctor Saniel." + +Madame Cormier entered, walking with difficulty; for, if Saniel had put +her on her feet, he had not given her the suppleness or the grace of +youth. + +After a few words, Saniel explained that, having to pay a visit to the +Batignolles, he would not come so near his former patient without calling +to see her. + +While Madame Cormier told at great length how she felt, and also how she +did not feel, Phillis looked at Saniel, uneasy to see his face so +convulsed. Surely, something very serious had happened; his visit said +this. But what? Her anguish was so much the greater, because he +certainly avoided looking at her. Why? She had done nothing, and could +find nothing with which to reproach herself. + +At this moment the door opened, and a man still young, tall, with a +curled beard, entered the room. + +"My son," Madame Cormier said. + +"My brother Florentin, of whom we have spoken so often," Phillis said. + +Florentin! Was he then becoming imbecile, that he had not thought the +voice of the man who bid him enter was that of Phillis's brother? Was he +so profoundly overwhelmed that such a simple reasoning was impossible to +him? Decidedly, it was important for him to go away as quickly as +possible; the journey would calm his nerves. + +"They wrote to me," Florentin said, "and since my return they have told +me how good you were to my mother. Permit me to thank you from a touched +and grateful heart. I hope that before long this gratitude will be +something more than a vain word." + +"Do not let us speak of that," Saniel said, looking at Phillis with a +frankness and an open countenance that reassured heron a certain point. +"It is I who am obliged to Madame Cormier. If the word were not +barbarous, I should say that her illness has been a good thing for me." + +To turn the conversation, and because he wished to speak to Phillis +alone, he approached her table and talked with her about her work. + +Saniel then gave Madame Cormier some advice, and rose to go. + +Phillis followed him, and Florentin was about to accompany them, but +Phillis stopped him. + +"I wish to ask Doctor Saniel a question," she said. + +When they were on the landing she closed the door. + +"What is the matter?" she asked in a hurried and trembling voice. + +"I wished to tell you that I start for Monaco at eleven o'clock." + +"You are going away?" + +"I have received two hundred francs from a patient, and I am going to +risk them at play. Two hundred francs will not pay Jardine or the +others, but with them I may win several thousands of francs." + +"Oh! Poor dear! How desperate you must be--you, such as you are, to +have such an idea!" + +"Am I wrong?" + +"Never wrong to my eyes, to my heart, to my love. O my beloved, may +fortune be with you!" + +"Give me your hand." + +She looked around, listening. There was no one, no noise. + +Then, drawing him toward her, she put her lips on his: + +"All yours, yours!" + +"I will return Tuesday." + +"Tuesday, at five o'clock, I shall be there." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE SMILES OF FORTUNE + +No one knew so little about play as Saniel. He knew that people played +at Monaco, and that was all. He bought his ticket for Monaco, and left +the train at that place. + +On leaving the station he looked all about him, to see what kind of a +place it was. Seeing nothing that looked like a gambling-house as he +understood it, that is, like the Casino de Royal, the only establishment +of the kind that he had ever seen, he asked a passer-by: + +"Where is the gambling-house?" + +"There is none at Monaco." + +"I thought there was." + +"There is one at Monte Carlo." + +"Is it far?" + +"Over yonder." + +With his hand the man indicated, on the slope of the mountain, a green +spot where, in the midst of the foliage, were seen roofs and facades of +imposing buildings. + +Saniel thanked him and followed his directions, while the man, calling +another, related the question that had been addressed to him, and both +laughed, shrugging their shoulders. Could any one be so stupid as these +Parisians! Another one who was going to be plucked, and who came from +Paris expressly for that! Was he not funny, with his big legs and arms? + +Without troubling himself about the laughter that he heard behind him, +Saniel continued his way. In spite of his night on the train, he felt no +fatigue; on the contrary, his mind and body were active. The journey had +calmed the agitation of his nerves, and it was with perfect tranquillity +he looked back upon all that had passed before his departure. In the +state of satisfaction that was his now, he had nothing more to fear from +stupidity or acts of folly; and, since he had recovered his will, all +would go well. No more backward glances, and fewer still before. The +present only should absorb him. + +The present, at this moment, was play. What did they play? He knew +roulette, but he knew not if the game was roulette. He would do as +others did. If he were ridiculed, it was of little importance; and in +reality he should desire to be ridiculed. People remember with pleasure +those at whom they have laughed, and he had come here to find some one +who would remember him. + +When he entered the salon where the playing was going on, he observed +that a religious silence reigned there. Round a large table covered with +a carpet of green cloth, which was divided by lines and figures, some men +were seated on high chairs, making them appear like officers; others, on +lower chairs, or simply standing about the table, pushed or picked up the +louis and bank bills on the green cloth, and a strong voice repeated, in +a monotonous tone: + +"Messieurs, faites votre jeu! Le jeu est fait! Rien ne va plus!" + +Then a little ivory ball was thrown into a cylinder, where it rolled with +a metallic noise. Although he had never seen roulette, it required no +effort to divine that this was the game. + +And, before putting several louis on the table, he looked about him to +see how it was played. But after the tenth time he understood as little +as at first. With the rakes the croupiers collected the stakes of +certain players; with these same rakes they doubled, separated, or even +paid, in proportions of which he took no account, certain others, and +that was all. + +But it mattered little. Having seen how the money was placed on the +table, that was sufficient. + +He had five louis in his hand when the croupier said: + +"Messieurs, faites votre jeu." + +He placed them on the number thirty-two, or, at least, he believed that +he placed them on this number. + +"Rien ne va plus!" The ball rolled in the cylinder. + +"Thirty-one!" cried the croupier, adding some other words that Saniel +did not understand. So little did he understand roulette that he thought +he had lost. He had placed his stake on the thirty-two, and it was the +thirty-one that had appeared; the bank had won. He was surprised to see +the croupier push a heap of gold toward him, which amounted to nearly a +hundred louis, and accompany this movement with a glance which, without +any doubt, meant to say: + +"For you, sir." + +What should he do? Since he had lost, he could not take this, money that +was given to him by mistake. + +In placing his stake on the table, he had leaned over the shoulder of a +gentleman whose hair and beard were of a most extraordinary black, who, +without playing, pricked a card with a pin. This gentleman turned toward +him, and with an amiable smile, and in a most gracious tone said: + +"It is yours, sir." + +Decidedly, he was mistaken in thinking he had lost; and he must take this +heap of louis, which he did, but neglecting to take, also, his first +stake. + +The game continued. + +"Thirty-two," called the croupier. + +Saniel perceived that his five louis had remained on the thirty-two; he +believed that he had won, since this number was called, and his ignorance +was such that he did not know that in roulette a number is paid thirty- +six times the stake: the croupier would, therefore, push toward him one +hundred and eighty Louis. + +But, to his great surprise, he pushed him no more money than at first. +This was incomprehensible. When he lost, money was paid to him, and when +he won, he was paid only half his due. + +His face betrayed his astonishment so plainly that he saw a mocking smile +in the eyes of the black-haired man, who had again turned toward him. + +As he played merely for the sake of playing, and not to win or lose, he +pocketed all that was pushed toward him and his stake. + +"Since you are not going to play any more," said the amiable gentleman, +leaving his chair, "will you permit me to say a word to you?" + +Saniel bowed, and together they left the table. When they were far +enough away to converse without disturbing the players, the gentleman +bowed ceremoniously: + +"Permit me to present myself-Prince Mazzazoli." + +Saniel replied by giving his name and position. + +"Well, doctor," the prince said with a strong Italian accent, "you will +pardon me, I hope, for making the simple observation that my age +authorizes: you play like a child." + +"Like an ignoramus," Saniel replied, without being angry. For, however +unusual this observation might be, he had already decided that it might +be a good thing in the future to call upon the testimony of a prince. + +"I am sure you are still asking yourself why you received eighteen times +the sum of your stake at the first play, and why you did not receive +thirty-six times the sum at the second." + +"That is true." + +"Well, I will tell you." And he proceeded to explain. + +Saniel did not wait for the conclusion to learn the fact that this very- +much-dyed Italian prince was a liar. + +"I do not intend to play again," he said. + +"With your luck that would be more than a fault." + +"I wanted a certain sum; I have won it, and that satisfies me." + +"You will not be so foolish as to refuse the hand that Fortune holds +out?" + +"Are you sure she holds it out to me?" Saniel asked, finding that it was +the prince. + +"Do not doubt it. I will show you--" + +"Thank you; but I never break a resolution." + +In another moment Saniel would have turned his back on the man, but he +was a witness whom it would be well to treat with caution. + +"I have nothing more to do here," he said, politely. "Permit me to +retire, after having thanked you for your offer, whose kindness I +appreciate." + +"Well," cried the prince, "since you will not risk your fate, let me do +it for you. This money may be a fetich. Take off five louis, only five +louis, and confide them to me. I will play them according to my +combinations, which are certain, and this evening I will give you your +part of the proceeds. Where are you staying? I live at the Villa des +Palmes." + +"Nowhere; I have just arrived." + +"Then let us meet here this evening at ten o'clock, in this room, and we +will liquidate our association." + +His first impulse was to refuse. Of what use to give alms to this old +monkey? But, after all, it did not cost much to pay his witness five +louis, and he gave them to him. + +"A thousand thanks! This evening, at ten o'clock." + +As Saniel left the room he found himself face to face with his old +comrade Duphot, who was accompanied by a woman, the same whom he had +cured. + +"What! you here?" both the lover and his mistress exclaimed. + +Saniel related why he was at Monaco, and what he had done since his +arrival. + +"With my money! Ah! She is very well," Duphot cried. + +"And you will play no more?" the woman asked. + +"I have all I want." + +"Then you will play for me." + +He wished to decline, but they drew him to the roulette table, and each +put a louis in his hand. + +"Play." + +"How?" + +"As inspiration counsels you. You have the luck." + +But his luck had died. The two louis were lost. + +They gave him two others, which won eight. + +"You see, dear friend." + +He went on, with varying luck, winning and losing. + +At the end of a quarter of an hour they permitted him to go. + +"And what are you going to do now?" Duphot asked. + +"To send what I owe to my creditors by telegraph." + +"Do you know where the telegraph is?" + +"No." + +"I will go with you." + +This was a second witness that Saniel was too wise to shake off. + +When he had sent his telegram to Jardine, he had nothing more to do at +Monte Carlo, and as he could not leave before eleven o'clock in the +evening, he was idle, not knowing how to employ his time. So he bought a +Nice newspaper and seated himself in the garden, under a gaslight, facing +the dark and tranquil sea. Perhaps he could find in it some telegraph +despatch which would tell him what had occurred in the Rue Sainte-Anne +since his departure. + +At the end of the paper, under "Latest News," he read: + +"The crime of the Rue Sainte-Anne seems to take a new turn; the +investigations made with more care have led to the discovery of a +trousers' button, to which is attached a piece of cloth. It shows, +therefore, that before the crime there was a struggle between the victim +and the assassin. As this button has certain letters and marks, it is a +valuable clew for the police." + +This proof of a struggle between the victim and the assassin made Saniel +smile. Who could tell how long this button had been there? + +Suddenly he left his seat, and entering a copse he examined his clothing. +Was it he who had lost it? + +But soon he was ashamed of this unconscious movement. The button which +the police were so proud to discover, did not belong to him. This new +track on which they were about to enter did not lead to him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +PHILLIS'S FEARS + +On Tuesday, a little before five o'clock, as she had promised, Phillis +rang at Saniel's door, and he left his laboratory where he was at work, +to let her in. + +She threw herself on his neck. + +"Well?" she asked, in a trembling voice. + +He told her how he had played and won, without stating the exact sum; +also the propositions of the Prince Mazzazoli, the meeting with Duphot, +and the telegram to Jardine. + +"Oh! What happiness!" she said, pressing him in her arms. "You are +free!" + +"No more creditors! I am my own master. You see it was a good +inspiration. Justice willed it." + +Then interrupting him: + +"Apropos of justice, you did not speak of Caffie the morning of your +departure." + +"I was so preoccupied I had no time to think of Caffie." + +"Is it not curious, the coincidence of his death with the condemnation +that we pronounced against him? Does it not prove exactly the justice of +things?" + +"If you choose." + +"As the money you won at Monaco proves to you that what is just will +happen. Caffie is punished for all his rascalities and crimes, and you +are rewarded for your sufferings." + +"Would it not have been just if Caffie had been punished sooner, and if I +had suffered less?" + +She remained silent. + +"You see," he said smiling, "that your philosophy is weak." + +"It is not of my philosophy that I am thinking, but of Caffie and +ourselves." + +"And how can Caffie be associated with you or yours?" + +"He is, or rather he may be, if this justice in which I believe in spite +of your joking permits him to be." + +"You are talking in enigmas." + +"What have you heard about Caffie since you went away?" + +"Nothing, or almost nothing." + +"You know it is thought that the crime was committed by a butcher." + +"The commissioner picked up the knife before me, and it is certainly a +butcher's knife. And more than that, the stroke that cut Caffie's throat +was given by a hand accustomed to butchery. I have indicated this in my +report." + +"Since then, more careful investigations have discovered a trousers' +button--" + +"Which might have been torn off in a struggle between Caffie and his +assassin, I read in a newspaper. But as for me, I do not believe in this +struggle. Caffie's position in his chair, where he was assaulted and +where he died, indicates that the old scamp was surprised. Otherwise, if +he had not been, if he had struggled, he could have cried out, and, +without doubt, he would have been heard." + +"If you knew how happy I am to hear you say that!" she cried. + +"Happy! What difference can it make to you?" and he looked at her in +surprise. "Of what importance is it to you whether Caffie was killed +with or without a struggle? You condemned him; he is dead. That should +satisfy you." + +"I was very wrong to pronounce this condemnation, which I did without +attaching any importance to it." + +"Do you think that hastened its execution?" + +"I am not so foolish as that, but I should be better pleased if I had not +condemned him." + +"Do you regret it?" + +"I regret that he is dead." + +"Decidedly, the enigma continues; but you know I do not understand it, +and, if you wish, we will stop there. We have something better to do +than to talk of Caffie." + +"On the contrary, let me talk to you of him, because we want your +advice." + +Again he looked at her, trying to read her face and to divine why she +insisted on speaking of Caffie, when he had just expressed a wish not to +speak of him. What was there beneath this insistence? + +"I will listen," he said; "and, since you wish to ask my advice on the +subject, you must tell me immediately what you mean." + +"You are right; and I should have told you before, but embarrassment and +shame restrained me. And I reproach myself, for with you I should feel +neither embarrassment nor reproach." + +"Assuredly." + +"But before everything else, I must tell you--you must know--that my +brother Florentin is a good and honest boy; you must believe it, you must +be convinced of it." + +"I am, since you tell me so. Besides, he produced the best impression on +me during the short time I saw him the other day at your house." + +"Would not one see immediately that he has a good nature?" + +"Certainly." + +"Frank and upright; weak, it is true, and a little effeminate also, that +is, lacking energy, letting himself be carried away by goodness and +tenderness. This weakness made him commit a fault before his departure +for America. I have kept it from you until this moment, but you must +know it now. Loving a woman who controlled him and made him do what she +wished, he let himself be persuaded to-take a sum of forty-five francs +that she demanded, that she insisted on having that evening, hoping to be +able to replace it three days later, without his employer discovering +it." + +"His employer was Caffie?" + +"No; it was three months after he left Caffie, and he was with another +man of business of whom I have never spoken to you, and now you +understand why. The money he expected failed him; his fault was +discovered, and his employer lodged a complaint against him." + +"We made him withdraw his complaint, never mind how, and Florentin went to +America to seek his fortune. And since you have seen him, you admit that +he might be capable of the fault that he committed, without being +capable-of becoming an assassin." + +He was about to reply, but she closed his lips with a quick gesture. + +"You will see why I speak of this, and you will understand why I do not +drop the subject of Caffie, and of this button, on which the police count +to find the criminal. This button belonged to Florentin." + +"To your brother?" + +"Yes, to Florentin, who, the day of the crime, had been to see Caffie." + +"That is true; the concierge told the commissioner of police that he +called about three o'clock." + +Phillis gave a cry of despair. + +"They know he was there? Then it is more serious than we imagined or +believed." + +"In answering a question as to whom Caffie had received that day, the +concierge named your brother. But as this visit took place between three +and half-past, and the crime was certainly committed between five and +half-past, no one can accuse your brother of being the assassin, since he +left before Caffie lighted his lamp. As this lamp could not light +itself, it proves that he could not have butchered a man who was living +an hour after the concierge saw your brother and talked with him." + +"What you say is a great relief; if you could know how alarmed we have +been!" + +"You were too hasty to alarm yourself." + +"Too hasty? But when Florentin read the account to us and came to the +button, he exclaimed, 'This button is mine!' and we experienced a shock +that made us lose our heads. We saw the police falling on us, +questioning Florentin, reproaching him with the past, which would be +retailed in all the newspapers, and you must understand how we felt." + +"But cannot your brother explain how he lost this button at Caffie's?" + +"Certainly, and in the most natural way. He went to see Caffie, to ask +him for a letter of recommendation, saying that he had been his clerk for +several years. Caffie gave it to him, and then, in the course of +conversation, Caffie spoke of a bundle of papers that he could not find. +Florentin had had charge of these papers, and had placed them on a high +shelf in the closet. As Caffie could not find them, and wanted them, +Florentin brought a small ladder, and, mounting it, found them. He was +about to descend the ladder, when he made a misstep, and in trying to +save himself, one of the buttons of his trousers was pulled off." + +"And he did not pick it up?" + +"He did not even notice it at first. But later, in the street, seeing +one leg of his trousers longer than the other, he thought of the ladder, +and found that he had lost a button. He would not return to Caffie's to +look for it, of course." + +"Of course." + +"How could he foresee that Caffie would be assassinated? That the crime +would be so skilfully planned and executed that the criminal would +escape? That two days later the police would find a button on which they +would build a story that would make him the criminal? Florentin had not +thought of all that." + +"That is understood." + +"The same evening he replaced the button by another, and it was only on +reading the newspaper that he felt there might be something serious in +this apparently insignificant fact. And we shared his alarm." + +"Have you spoken to any one of this button?" + +"Certainly not; we know too much. I tell you of it because I tell you +everything; and if we are menaced, we have no help to expect, except from +you. Florentin is a good boy, but he is weak and foolish. Mamma is like +him in more than one respect, and as for me, although I am more +resistant, I confess that, in the face of the law and the police, I +should easily lose my head, like children who begin to scream when they +are left in the dark. Is not the law, when you know nothing of it, a +night of trouble, full of horrors, and peopled with phantoms?" + +"I do not believe there is the danger that you imagined in the first +moment of alarm." + +"It was natural." + +"Very natural, I admit, but reflection must show how little foundation +there is for it. The button has not the name of the tailor who furnished +it?" + +"No, but it has the initials and the mark of the manufacturer; an A and a +P, with a crown and a cock." + +"Well! Among two or three thousand tailors in Paris, how is it possible +for the police to find those who use these buttons? And when the tailors +are found, how could they designate the owner of this button, this one +exactly, and not another? It is looking for a needle in a bundle of hay. +Where did your brother have these trousers made? Did he bring them from +America?" + +"The poor boy brought nothing from America but wretchedly shabby clothes, +and we had to clothe him from head to foot. We were obliged to +economize, and a little tailor in the Avenue de Clichy, called Valerius, +made this suit." + +"It seems to me scarcely probable that the police will find this little +tailor. But if they do, would he recognize the button as coming from his +stock? And, if they get as far as your brother, they must prove that +there was a struggle; that the button was torn off in this struggle; that +your brother was in the Rue Sainte-Anne between five and six o'clock; in +which case, without doubt, he will find it easy to prove where he was at +that moment." + +"He was with us--with mamma." + +"You see, then, you need not feel alarmed." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A GRAVE DISCUSSION + +Phillis hurried to return to the Rue des Moines, to share with her mother +and brother the confidence that Saniel caused her to feel. + +She pulled the bell with a trembling hand, for the time was past when in +this quiet house, where all the lodgers knew each other, the key was left +in the door, and one had only to knock before entering. Since the +newspapers had spoken of the button, all was changed; the feeling of +liberty and security had disappeared; the door was always closed, and +when the bell rang they looked at each other in fear and with trembling. + +When Florentin opened the door, the table was set for dinner. + +"I was afraid something had happened to you," Madame Cormier said. + +"I was detained." + +She took off her hat and cloak hastily. + +"You have learned nothing?" the mother asked, bringing in the soup. + +"No." + +"They spoke to you of nothing?" Florentin continued in a low voice. + +"They spoke to me of nothing else; or I heard only that when I was not +addressed directly." + +"What was said?" + +"No one believes that the investigations of the police bear on the +button." + +"You see, Florentin," Madame Cormier interrupted, smiling at her son. + +But he shook his head. + +"However, the opinion of all has a value," Phillis cried. + +"Speak lower," Florentin said. + +"It is thought that it is impossible for the police to find, among the +two or three thousand tailors in Paris, all those who use the buttons +marked A. P. And if they did find them, they could not designate all +their customers to whom they have furnished these buttons. It is really +looking for a needle in a bundle of hay." + +"When one takes plenty of time, one finds a needle in a bundle of hay," +Florentin said. + +"You ask me what I heard, and I tell you. But I do not depend entirely +on that. As I passed near the Rue Louis-le-Grand, I went to Doctor +Saniel's; it being his office hour I hoped to find him." + +"You told him the situation?" Florentin exclaimed. + +In any other circumstances she would have replied frankly, explaining +that she had perfect confidence in Saniel; but when she saw her brother's +agitation, she could not exasperate him by this avowal, above all, +because she could not at the same time give her reasons for her faith in +him. She must reassure him before everything. + +"No," she said, "but I spoke of Caffie to Doctor Saniel without his being +surprised. As he made the first deposition, was it not natural that my +curiosity should wish to learn a little more than the newspapers tell?" + +"Never mind, the act must appear strange." + +"I think not. But, anyhow, the interest that we have to learn all made +me overlook this; and I think, when I have told you the doctor's opinion, +you will not regret my visit." + +"And this opinion?" Madame Cormier asked. + +"His opinion is, that there was no struggle between Caffie and the +assassin, whereas the position of Caffie in the chair where he was +attacked proves that he was surprised. Therefore, if there was no +struggle, there was no button torn off, and all the scaffolding of the +police falls to the ground." + +Madame Cormier breathed a profound sigh of deliverance. + +"You see," she said to her son. + +"And the doctor's opinion is not the opinion of the first-comer, it is +not even that of an ordinary physician. It is that of the physician who +has certified to the death, and who, more than any one, has power, has +authority, to say how it was given--by surprise, without struggle, +without a button being pulled off." + +"It is not Doctor Saniel who directs the search of the police, or who +inspires it," replied Florentin. "His opinion does not produce a +criminal, while the button can--at least for those who believe in the +struggle; and between the two the police will not hesitate. + +Already the newspapers laugh at them for not having discovered the +assassin, who has rejoined all the others they have let escape. They +must follow the track they have started on, and this track--" + +He lowered his voice: + +"It will lead them here." + +"To do that they must pass by the Avenue de Clichy, and that seems +unlikely." + +"It is the possible that torments me, and not the unlikely, and you +cannot but recognize that what I fear is possible. I was at Caffies the +day of the crime. I lost there a button torn off by violence. This +button picked up by the police proves, according to them, the criminality +of the one who lost it. They will find that I am the one--" + +"They will not find you." + +"Let us admit that they do find me. How should I defend myself?" + +"By proving that you were not in the Rue Sainte-Anne between five and six +o'clock, since you were here." + +"And what witnesses will prove this alibi? I have only one--mamma. +What is the testimony of a mother worth in favor of her son in such +circumstances?" + +"You will have that of the doctor, affirming that there was no struggle, +and consequently no button torn off." + +"Affirming, but carrying no proof to support his theory; the opinion of +one doctor, which the opinion of another doctor may refute and destroy. +And then, to prove that there was no struggle; Doctor Saniel will say +that Caffie was surprised. Who could surprise Caffie? To open Caffies +door when the clerk was away, it was necessary to ring first, and then to +knock three times in a peculiar way. No stranger could know that, and +who could know it better than I?" + +Step by step Phillis defended the ground against her brother; but little +by little the confidence which at first sustained her weakened. With +Saniel she was brave. Between her brother and mother, in this room that +had witnessed their fears, not daring to speak loud, she was downcast, +and let herself be overcome by their anxieties. + +"Truly," she said, "it seems as if we were guilty and not innocent." + +"And while we are tormenting ourselves, the criminal, probably, in +perfect safety laughs at the police investigations; he had not thought of +this button; chance throws it in his way. Luck is for him, and against +us--once more." + +This was the plaint that was often on Florentin's lips. Although he had +never been a gambler--and for sufficient reason--in his eyes everything +was decided by luck. There are those who are born under a lucky star, +others under an unlucky one. There are those who, in the battle of life, +receive knocks without being discouraged, because they expect something +the next day, as there are those who become discouraged because they +expect nothing, and know by experience that tomorrow will be for them +what today is, what yesterday was. And Florentin was one of these. + +"Why did I not stay in America?" he said. + +"Because you were too unhappy, my poor boy!" Madame Cormier said, whose +maternal heart was moved by this cry. + +"Am I happier here, or shall I be to-morrow? What does this to-morrow, +full of uncertainty and dangers, hold for us?" + +"Why do you insist that it has only dangers?" Phillis asked, in a +conciliating and caressing tone. + +"You always expect the good." + +"At least I hope for it, and do not admit deliberately that it is +impossible. I do not say that life is always rose-colored, but neither +is it always black. I believe it is like the seasons. After winter, +which is vile, I confess, come the spring, summer, and autumn." + +"Well, if I had the money necessary for the voyage, I would go and pass +the end of the winter in a country where it would be less disagreeable +than here, and, above all, less dangerous for my constitution." + +"You do not say that seriously, I hope?" cried Madame Cormier. + +"On the contrary, very seriously." + +"We are hardly reunited, and you think of a separation," she said, sadly. + +"It is not of a separation that Florentin thinks," cried Phillis, "but of +a flight." + +"And why not?" + +"Because only the guilty fly." + +"It is exactly the contrary. The intelligent criminals stay, and, as +generally they are resolute men, they know beforehand that they are able +to face the danger; while the innocent, timid like myself, or the +unlucky, lose their heads and fly, because they know beforehand, also, +that if a danger threatens them, it will crush them. That is why I would +return to America if I could pay my passage; at least I should feel easy +there." + +There was a moment of silence, during which each one seemed to have no +thought but to finish dinner. + +"Granting that this project is not likely," Florentin said, "I have +another idea." + +"Why do you have ideas?" Phillis asked. + +"I wish you were in my place; we should see if you would not have them." + +"I assure you that I am in your place, and that your trouble is mine, +only it does not betray itself in the same manner. But what is your +idea?" + +"It is to find Valerius and tell him all." + +"And who will answer to us for Valerius's discretion?" asked Madame +Cormier. "Would it not be the greatest imprudence that you could commit? +One cannot play with a secret of this importance." + +"Valerius is an honest man." + +"It is because he cannot work when political, or rather patriotic, +affairs go wrong, that you say this." + +"And why not? With a poor man who lives in a small way by his work, are +not this care and pride in his country marks of an honorable heart?" + +"I grant the honorable heart, but it is another reason for being prudent +with him," Phillis said. "Precisely because he may be what you think, +reserve is necessary. You tell him what is passed. If he accepts it and +your innocence, it is well; he will not betray your secret voluntarily +nor by stupidity. But he will not accept it; he will look beyond. He +will suppose that you wish to deceive him, and he will suspect you. In +that case, would he not go and tell all to the police commissioner of our +quarter? As for me, I think it is a danger that it would be foolish to +risk." + +"And, according to you, what is to be done?" + +"Nothing; that is, wait, since there are a thousand chances against one +for our uneasiness, and we exaggerate those that may never be realized." + +"Well, let us wait," he said. "Moreover, I like that; at the least, I +have no responsibilities. What can happen will happen." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR + +In order to put the button found at Caffies on the track of the assassin, +it required that it should have come from a Parisian tailor, or, at +least, a French one, and that the trousers had not been sold by a ready- +made clothing-house, where the names of customers are not kept. + +The task of the police was therefore difficult, as weak, also, were the +chances of success. As Saniel had said, it was like looking for a needle +in a bundle of hay, to go to each tailor in Paris. + +But this was not their way of proceeding. In place of trying to find +those who used these buttons, they looked for those who made them or sold +them, and suddenly, without going farther than the directory, they found +this manufacturer: "A. Pelinotte, manufacturer of metal buttons for +trousers; trademark, A.P., crown and cock; Faubourg du Temple." + +At first this manufacturer was not disposed to answer questions of the +agent who went to see him; but when he began to understand that he might +reap some advantage from the affair, like the good merchant that he was, +young and active, he put his books and clerks at his disposition. His +boast was, in effect, that his buttons, thanks to a brass bonnet around +which the thread was rolled instead of passing through the holes, never +cut the thread and could not be broken. When they came off it was with a +piece of the cloth. What better justification of his pretensions, what +better advertisement than his button torn off with a piece of the +trousers of the assassin? The affair would go before the assizes, and in +all the newspapers there would be mention of the "A. P. buttons." + +He was asked for his customers' names, and after a few days the search +began, guided by a list so exact that useless steps were spared. + +One morning a detective reached the Avenue de Clichy, and found the +tailor Valerius in his shop, reading a newspaper. For it was not only +when the country was in danger that Valerius had a passion for reading +papers, but every morning and evening. + +Nothing that was published in the papers escaped him, and at the first +words of the agent he understood immediately about what he was to be +questioned. + +"It is concerning the affair in the Rue Sainte-Anne that you wish this +information?" he said. + +"Frankly, yes." + +"Well, frankly also, I do not know if the secrets of the profession +permit me to answer you." + +The agent, who was by no means stupid, immediately understood the man's +character, and instead of yielding to the desire to laugh, caused by this +reply honestly made by this good-natured man, whose long, black, bushy +beard and bald head accentuated his gravity, he yielded to the necessity +of the occasion. + +"That is a question to discuss." + +"Then let us discuss it. A customer, confiding in my honesty and +discretion, gives me an order to make a pair of trousers; he pays me as +he agreed, without beating me down, and on the day he promised. We are +loyal to each other. I give him a pair of good trousers, honestly made, +and he pays me with good money. We are even. Have I the right +afterward, by imprudent words, or otherwise, to furnish clews against +him? The case is a delicate one." + +"Do you place the interest of the individual above that of society?" + +"When it is a question of a professional secret, yes. Where should we be +if the lawyer, the notary, the doctor, the confessor, the tailor, could +accept compromises on this point of doctrine? It would be anarchy, +simply, and in the end it would be the interest of society that would +suffer." + +The agent, who had no time to lose, began to be impatient. + +"I will tell you," he said, "that the tailor, however important his +profession may be, is not placed exactly as the doctor or confessor. +Have you not a book in which you write your customers' orders?" + +"Certainly." + +"So that if you persevere in a theory, pushing it to an extreme, I need +only to go to the commissioner of your quarter, who, in virtue of the +power of the law conferred upon him, will seize your books." + +"That would be by violence, and my responsibility would be at an end." + +"And in these books the judge would see to whom you have furnished +trousers of this stuff. It would only remain then to discover in whose +interest you have wished to escape the investigations of the law." + +Saying this, he took from his pocket a small box, and taking out a piece +of paper, he took from it a button to which adhered a piece of navy blue +stuff. + +Valerius, who was not in the least moved by the threat of the +commissioner, for he was a man to brave martyrdom, looked at the box +curiously. When the agent displayed the button, a movement of great +surprise escaped him. + +"You see," the agent exclaimed, "that you know this cloth!" + +"Will you permit me to look at it?" Valerius asked. + +"Willingly, but on condition that you do not touch it; it is precious." + +Valerius took the box, and approaching the front of the shop, looked at +the button and the piece of cloth. + +"It is a button marked 'A.P.,' as you see, and we know that you use these +buttons." + +"I do not deny it; they are good buttons, and I give only good things to +my customers." + +Returning the box to the agent, he took a large book and began to turn +over the leaves; pieces of cloth were pasted on the pages, and at the +side were several lines of large handwriting. Arriving at a page where +was a piece of blue cloth, he took the box and compared this piece with +that of the button, examining it by daylight. + +"Sir," he said, "I am going to tell you some very serious things." + +"I am listening." + +"We hold the assassin of the Rue Sainte-Anne, and it is I who will give +you the means of discovering him." + +"You have made trousers of this cloth?" + +"I have made three pairs; but there is only one pair that can interest +you, that of the assassin. I have just told you that the secrets of the +profession prevented me from replying to your questions, but what I have +just seen frees my conscience. As I explained to you, when I make a pair +of good trousers for a customer who pays me in good money, I do not think +I have the right to reveal the affairs of my client to any one in the +world, even to the law." + +"I understand," interrupted the agent, whose impatience increased. + +"But this reserve on my part rests on reciprocity: to a good customer, a +good tailor. If the customer is not good the reciprocity ceases, or, +rather, it continues on another footing--that of war; if any one treats +me badly, I return the same. The trousers to which this stuff belongs"-- +he showed the button--"I made for an individual whom I do not know, and +who presented himself to me as an Alsacian, which I believed so much more +easily, because he spoke with a strong foreign accent. These trousers-- +I need not tell you how careful I was with them. I am a patriot, sir. +He agreed to pay for them on delivery. When they were delivered, the +young apprentice who took them had the weakness to not insist upon the +money. I went to him, but could obtain nothing; he would pay me the next +day, and so on. Finally he disappeared, leaving no address." + +"And this customer?" + +"I will give you his name without the slightest hesitation. Fritzner, +not an Alsacian as I believed, but a Prussian to a certainty, who surely +struck the blow; his disappearance the day after the crime is the proof +of it." + +"You say that you were not able to procure his address?" + +"But you, who have other means at your disposal, can find him. He is +twenty-seven or thirty years old, of middle height, blue eyes, a blond +beard, and a complete blue suit of this cloth." + +The agent wrote this description in his note-book as the tailor gave it +to him. + +"If he has not left Paris with these stolen thirty-five thousand francs, +we shall find him, and the thanks will be yours," he said. + +"I am happy to be able to do anything for you." + +The agent was going, but he thought better of it. + +"You said that you had made three suits of this cloth?" + +"Yes, but there is only this Fritzner who counts. The two others are +honest men, well known in the quarter, and they paid me honestly." + +"Since they have no cause for alarm, you need have no scruples in naming +them. It is not in the name of justice that I ask their names, but for +myself. --They will look well in my report and will prove that I pushed +my investigations thoroughly." + +"One is a merchant in the Rue Truffant, and is called Monsieur Blanchet; +the other is a young man just arrived from America, and his name is +Monsieur Florentin Cormier." + +"You say Florentin Cormier?" the agent asked, who remembered this name +was that of one who had seen Caffie on the day of the crime. "Do you +know him?" + +"Not exactly; it is the first time that I have made clothes for him. But +I know his mother and sister, who have lived in the Rue des Moines five +or six years at least; good, honest people, who work hard and have no +debts." + +The next morning about ten o'clock, a short time after Phillis's +departure, Florentin, who was reading the newspaper in the dining-room, +while his mother prepared the breakfast, heard stealthy steps that +stopped on the landing before their door. His ear was too familiar with +the ordinary sounds in the house to be deceived; there was in these steps +a hesitation or a precaution which evidently betrayed a stranger, and +with the few connections they had, a stranger was surely an enemy--the +one whom he expected. + +A ring of the doorbell, given by a firm hand, made him jump from his +chair. He did not hesitate; slowly, and with an air of indifference, he +opened the door. + +He saw before him a man of about forty years, with a polite and shrewd +face, dressed in a short coat, and wearing a flat hat. + +"Monsieur Florentin Cormier?" + +"I am he." + +And he asked him to come in. + +"The judge desires to see you at his office." + +Madame Cormier came from the kitchen in time to hear these few words, and +if Florentin had not motioned to her to be silent, she would have +betrayed herself. The words on her lips were: + +"You came to arrest my son!" They would have escaped her, but she +crushed them back. + +"And can you tell me for what affair the judge summons me?" Florentin +asked, steadying his voice. + +"For the Caffie affair." + +"And at what hour should I present myself before the judge?" + +"Immediately." + +"But my son has not breakfasted!" Madame Cormier exclaimed. "At least, +take something before going, my dear child." + +"It is not worth while." + +He made a sign to her that she should not insist. His throat was too +tight to swallow a piece of bread, and it was important that he should +not betray his emotion before this agent. + +"I am ready," he said. + +Going to his mother he embraced her, but lightly, without effusion, as if +he were only to be absent a short time. + +"By-and-by." + +She was distracted; but, understanding that she would compromise her son +if she yielded to her feelings, she controlled herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A TIGHTENING CHAIN + +As it was a part that he played, Florentin said to himself that he would +play it to the best of his ability in entering the skin of the person he +wished to be, and this part was that of a witness. + +He had been Caffie's clerk; the justice would interrogate him about his +old employer, and nothing would be more natural. It was that only, and +nothing but that, which he could admit; consequently, he should interest +himself in the police investigations, and have the curiosity to learn how +they stood. + +"Have you advanced far in the Caffie affair?" he asked the agent as they +walked along. + +"I do not know," the agent answered, who thought it prudent to be +reserved. "I know nothing more than the newspapers tell." + +On leaving his mother's house, Florentin observed on the other side of +the street a man who appeared to be stationed there; at the end of +several minutes, on turning a corner, he saw that this man followed them +at a certain distance. Then it was not a simple appearance before the +judge, for such precautions are not taken with a witness. + +When they reached the Place Clichy, the agent asked him if he would take +a carriage, but he declined. What good was it? It was a useless +expense. + +Then he saw the agent raise his hat, as if bowing to some one, but this +bow was certainly not made to any one; and immediately, the man who had +followed them approached. The raising of the hat was a signal. As from +the deserted quarters of the Batignolles they entered the crowd, they +feared he might try to escape. The character of the arrest became +accentuated. + +After the presentiments and fears that had tormented him during the last +few days this did not astonish him, but since they took these precautions +with him, all was not yet decided. He must, then, defend himself to the +utmost. Distracted before the danger came, he felt less weak now that he +was in it. + +On arriving at the Palais de justice he was introduced immediately into +the judge's office. But he did not attend to him at once; he was +questioning a woman, and Florentin examined him by stealth. He saw a man +of elegant and easy figure, still young, with nothing solemn or imposing +about him, having more the air of a boulevardier or of a sportsman than +of a magistrate. + +While continuing his questioning, he also examined Florentin, but with a +rapid glance, without persistence, carelessly, and simply because his +eyes fell upon him. Before a table a clerk was writing, and near the +door two policemen waited, with the weary, empty faces of men whose minds +are elsewhere. + +Soon the judge turned his head toward them. + +"You may take away the accused." + +Then, immediately addressing Florentin, he asked him his name, his +Christian names, and his residence. + +"You have been the clerk of the agent of affairs, Caffie. Why did you +leave him?" + +"Because my work was too heavy." + +"You are afraid of work?" + +"No, when it is not too hard; it was at his office, and left me no time +to work for myself. I was obliged to reach his office at eight o'clock +in the morning, breakfast there, and did not leave until seven to dine +with my mother at the Batignolles. I had an hour and a half for that; +at half-past eight I had to return, and stay until ten or half-past. +In accepting this position I believed that I should be able to finish my +education, interrupted by the death of my father, and to study law and +become something better than a miserable clerk of a business man. It was +impossible with Monsieur Caffie, so I left him, and this was the only +reason why we separated." + +"Where have you been since?" + +This was a delicate question, and one that Florentin dreaded, for it +might raise prejudices that nothing would destroy. However, he must +reply, for what he would not tell himself others would reveal; an +investigation on this point was too easy. + +"With another business man, Monsieur Savoureux, Rue de la Victoire, where +I was not obliged to work in the evening. I stayed there about three +months, and then went to America." + +"Why?" + +"Because, when I began to study seriously, I found that my studies had +been neglected too long to make it possible for me to take them up again. +I had forgotten nearly all I had learned. I should, without doubt, fail +in my examination, and I should only begin the law too late. I left +France for America, where I hoped to find a good situation." + +"How long since your return?" + +"Three weeks." + +"And you went to see Caffie?" + +"Yes." + +"What for?" + +"To ask him for a recommendation to replace the one he gave me, which I +had lost." + +"It was the day of the crime?" + +"Yes." + +"At what time?" + +"I reached his house about a quarter to three, and I left about half-past +three." + +"Did he give you the certificate for which you asked?" + +"Yes; here it is." + +And, taking it from his pocket, he presented it to the judge. It was a +paper saying that, during the time that M. Florentin Cormier was his +clerk, Caffie was entirely satisfied with him; with his work, as with his +accuracy and probity. + +"And you did not return to him during the evening?" the judge asked. + +"Why should I return? I had obtained what I desired." + +"Well, did you or did you not return?" + +"I did not return to him." + +"Do you remember what you did on leaving Caffie's house?" + +If Florentin had indulged in the smallest illusion about his appearance +before the judge, the manner of conducting the interview would have +destroyed it. It was not a witness who was being questioned, it was a +culprit. He had not to enlighten the justice, he had to defend himself. + +"Perfectly," he said. "It is not so long ago. On leaving the Rue +Sainte-Anne, as I had nothing to do, I went down to the quays, and looked +at the old books from the Pont Royale to the Institute; but at this +moment a heavy shower came on, and I returned to the Batignolles, where I +remained with my mother." + +"What time was it when you reached your mother's house?" + +"A few minutes after five." + +"Can you not say exactly?" + +"About a quarter past five, a few minutes more or less." + +"And you did not go out again?" + +"No." + +"Did any one call at your mother's after you arrived there?" + +"No one. My sister came in at seven o'clock, as usual, when she returned +from her lesson." + +"Before you went up to your rooms did you speak with any of the other +lodgers?" + +"No." + +There was a pause, and Florentin felt the judge's eyes fixed on him with +an aggravating persistency. It seemed as if this look, which enveloped +him from head to foot, wished to penetrate his inmost thoughts. + +"Another thing," said the judge. "You did not lose a trousers' button +while you were with Caffie?" + +Florentin expected this question, and for some time he had considered +what answer he should make to it. To deny was impossible. It would be +easy to convict him of a fib, for the fact of the question being asked +was sufficient to say there was proof that the button was his. He must, +then, confess the truth, grave as it might be. + +"Yes," he said, "and this is how--" + +He related in detail the story of the bundle of papers placed on the +highest shelf of the cases, his slipping on the ladder, and the loss of +the button, which he did not discover until he was in the street. + +The judge opened a drawer and took from it a small box, from which he +took a button that he handed to Florentin. + +"Is that it?" he asked. + +Florentin looked at it. + +"It is difficult for me to answer," he said, finally; "one button +resembles another." + +"Not always." + +"In that case, it would be necessary for me to have observed the form of +the one I lost, and I gave no attention to it. It seems to me that no +one knows exactly how, or of what, the buttons are made that they wear." + +The judge examined him anew. + +"But are not the trousers that you wear to-day the same from which this +button was torn?" + +"It is the pair I wore the day I called on Monsieur Caffie." + +"Then it is quite easy to compare the button that I show you with those +on your trousers, and your answer becomes easy." + +It was impossible to escape this verification. + +"Unbutton your vest," said the judge, "and make your comparison with +care--with all the care that you think wise. The question has some +importance." + +Florentin felt it only too much, the importance of this question, but as +it was set before him, he could not but answer frankly. + +He unbuttoned his waistcoat, and compared the button with his. + +"I believe that it is really the button that I lost," he said. + +Although he endeavored not to betray his anguish, he felt that his voice +trembled, and that it had a hoarse sound. Then he wished to explain this +emotion. + +"This is a truly terrible position for me," he said. + +The judge did not reply. + +"But because I lost a button at Monsieur Caffie's, it does not follow +that it was torn off in a struggle." + +"You have your theory, and you will make the most of it, but this is not +the place. I have only one more question to ask: By what button have you +replaced the one you lost?" + +"By the first one I came across." + +"Who sewed it on?" + +"I did." + +"Are you in the habit of sewing on your buttons yourself?" + +Although the judge did not press this question by his tone, nor by the +form in which he made it, Florentin saw the strength of the accusation +that his reply would make against him. + +"Sometimes," he said. + +"And yet, on returning home, you found your mother, you told me. Was +there any reason why she could not sew this button on for you?" + +"I did not ask her to do it." + +"But when she saw you sewing it, did she not take the needle from your +hands?" + +"She did not see me." + +"Why?" + +"She was occupied preparing our dinner." + +"That is sufficient." + +"I was in the entry of our apartment, where I have slept since my return; +my mother was in the kitchen." + +"Is there no communication between the kitchen and the entry?" + +"The door was closed." + +A flood of words rushed to his lips, to protest against the conclusions +which seemed to follow these answers, but he kept them back. He saw +himself caught in a net, and all his efforts to free himself only bound +him more strongly. + +As he was asked no more questions it seemed to him best to say nothing, +and he was silent a long time, of the duration of which he was only +vaguely conscious. + +The judge talked in a low tone, the recorder wrote rapidly, and he heard +only a monotonous murmur that interrupted the scratching of a pen on the +paper. + +"Your testimony will now be read to you," the judge said. + +He wished to give all his attention to this reading, but he soon lost the +thread of it. The impression it made upon him, however, was that it +faithfully reproduced all that he had said, and he signed it. + +"Now," said the judge, "my duty obliges me, in presence of the charges +which emanate from your testimony, to deliver against you a 'manda +depot'." + +Florentin received this blow without flinching. + +"I know," he said, "that all the protestations I might make would have no +effect at this moment; I therefore spare you them. But I have a favor to +ask of you; it is to permit me to write to my mother and sister the news +of my arrest--they love me tenderly. Oh, you shall read my letter!" + +"You may, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +"REGARDING THE CAFFIE AFFAIR" + +After the departure of her son and the detective, Madame Cormier was +prostrated. Her son! Her Florentin! The poor child! And she was sunk +in despair. + +Had they not suffered enough? Was this new proof necessary? Why had +their life been so unmercifully cruel? Why had not Dr. Saniel let her +die? At least she would not have seen this last catastrophe, this +disgrace; her son accused of assassination, in prison, at the assizes! + +Heretofore when she had yielded to her feelings and bewailed their sad +lot, Phillis was at hand to cheer and caress her; but now she was alone +in her deserted apartment, no one to hear her, see her, nor scold. Why +should she not abandon herself to tears? She wept and trembled, but the +moment arrived when, after having reached the extreme of despair, which +showed her her son condemned as an assassin, and executed, she stopped +and asked herself if she had not gone too far. + +He would return; certainly she might expect him. And she waited for him +without breakfasting; he would not like to sit down to the table all +alone, the poor child. + +Besides, she was too profoundly overcome to eat. She arranged the fire +with care, so that the haricot of mutton would keep warm, for it was his +favorite dish. + +Minutes and hours passed and he did not return. Her anguish came back; a +witness would not be retained so long by the judge. Had they arrested +him? Then what would become of him? + +She fell into a state of tears and despair, and longed for Phillis. +Fortunately she would not be late to-day. Finally a quick, light step +was heard on the landing, and as soon as she could, Madame Cormier went +to open the door, and was stunned on seeing the agitated face of her +daughter. Evidently Phillis was surprised by the sudden opening of the +door. + +"You know all, then?" Madame Cormier cried. + +Phillis put her arms about her, and drew her into the dining-room, where +she made her sit down. + +"Becalm," she said. "They will not keep him." + +"You know some way?" + +"We will find a way. I promise you that they will not keep him." + +"You are sure?" + +"I promise you." + +"You give me life. But how did you know?" + +"He wrote to me. The concierge gave me his letter, which had just come." + +"What does he say?" + +Madame Cormier took the letter that Phillis handed her, but the paper +shook so violently in her trembling hand that she could not read. + +"Read it to me." + +Phillis took it and read + + "DEAR LITTLE SISTER: After listening to my story, the judge retains + me. Soften for mamma the pain of this blow. Make her understand + that they will soon acknowledge the falseness of this accusation; + and, on your part, try to make this falseness evident, while on + mine, I will work to prove my innocence. + + "Embrace poor mamma for me, and find in your tenderness, strength, + and love, some consolation for her; mine will be to think that you + are near her, dear little beloved sister. + "FLORENTIN." + +"And it is this honest boy that they accuse of assassination!" cried +Madame Cormier, beginning to weep. + +It required several minutes for Phillis to quiet her a little. + +"We must think of him, mamma; we must not give up." + +"You are going to do something, are you not, my little Phillis?" + +"I am going to find Doctor Saniel." + +"He is a doctor, not a lawyer." + +"It is exactly as a doctor that he can save Florentin. He knows that +Caffie was killed without a struggle between him and the assassin; +consequently without the wrenching off of a button. He will say it and +prove it to the judge, and Florentin's innocence is evident. I am going +to see him." + +"I beg of you, do not leave me alone too long." + +"I will come back immediately." + +Phillis ran from the Batignolles to the Rue Louis-le-Grand. In answer to +her ring, Joseph, who had returned to his place in the anteroom, opened +the door, and as Saniel was alone, she went immediately to his office. + +"What is the matter?" he asked, on seeing her agitation. + +"My brother is arrested." + +"Ah! The poor boy!" + +What he had said to her on explaining that this arrest could not take +place was sincere; he believed it, and he more than believed it, he +wished it. When he decided to kill Caffie he had not thought that the +law would ever discover a criminal; it would be a crime that would remain +unpunished, as so many were, and no one would be disturbed. But now the +law had found and arrested one who was the brother of the woman he loved. + +"How was he arrested?" he asked, as much for the sake of knowing as to +recover himself. + +She told what she knew, and read Florentin's letter. + +"He is a good boy, your brother," he said, as if talking to himself. + +"You will save him?" + +"How can I?" + +This cry escaped him without her understanding its weight; without her +divining the expression of anxious curiosity in his glance. + +"To whom shall I address myself, if not to you? Are you not everything +to me? My support, my guide, my counsel, my God!" + +She explained what she wished him to do. Once more an exclamation +escaped Saniel. + +"You wish me to go to the judge--me?" + +"Who, better than you, can explain how things happened?" + +Saniel, who had recovered from his first feeling of surprise, did not +flinch. Evidently she spoke with entire honesty, suspecting nothing, and +it would be folly to look for more than she said. + +"But I cannot present myself before a judge in such away," he said. +"It is he who sends for those he wants to see." + +"Why can you not go to his court, since you know things which will throw +light upon it?" + +"Is it truly easy to go before this court? In going before it, I make +myself the defender of your brother." + +"That is exactly what I ask of you." + +"And in presenting myself as his defender, I take away the weight of my +deposition, which would have more authority if it were that of a simple +witness." + +"But when will you be asked for this deposition? Think of Florentin's +sufferings during this time, of mamma's, and of mine. He may lose his +head; he may kill himself. His spirit is not strong, nor is mamma's. +How will they bear all that the newspapers will publish?" + +Saniel hesitated a moment. + +"Well, I will go," he said. "Not this evening, it is too late, but +tomorrow." + +"Oh, dear Victor!" she exclaimed, pressing him in her arms, "I knew that +you would save him. We will owe you his life, as we owe you mamma's, as +I owe you happiness. Am I not right to say you are my God?" + +After she was gone he had a moment of repentance in which he regretted +this weakness; for it was a weakness, a stupid sentimentalism, unworthy +of a sensible man, who should not permit himself to be thus touched and +involved. Why should he go and invite danger when he could be quiet, +without any one giving him a thought? Was it not folly? The law wanted +a criminal. Public curiosity demanded one. Why take away the one that +they had? If he succeeded, would they not look for another? It was +imprudence, and, to use the true word, madness. Now that he was no +longer under the influence of Phillis's beautiful, tearful eyes, he would +not commit this imprudence. All the evening this idea strengthened, and +when he went to bed his resolution was taken. He would not go to the +judge. + +But on awakening, he was surprised to find that this resolution of the +evening was not that of the morning, and that this dual personality, +which had already struck him, asserted itself anew. It was at night that +he resolved to kill Caffie, and he committed the deed in the evening. It +was in the morning that he had abandoned the idea, as it was in the +morning that he revoked the decision made the previous evening not to go +to the rescue of this poor boy. Of what then, was the will of man made, +undulating like the sea, and variable as the wind, that he had the folly +to believe his was firm? + +At noon he went to the Palais de justice and sent in his card to the +judge, on which he wrote these words: "Regarding the Caffie affair." + +He was received almost immediately, and briefly explained how, according +to his opinion, Caffie was killed quickly and suddenly by a firm and +skilful hand, that of a killer by profession. + +"That is the conclusion of your report," the judge said. + +"What I could not point out in my report, as I did not know of the +finding of the button and the opinion it has led to, is that there was no +struggle between the assassin and the victim, as is generally supposed." + +And medically he demonstrated how this struggle was impossible. + +The judge listened attentively, without a word, without interruption. + +"Do you know this young man?" he asked. + +"I have seen him only once; but I know his mother, who was my patient, +and it is at her instigation that I decided to make this explanation to +you." + +"Without doubt, it has its value, but I must tell you that it tends in no +way to destroy our hypothesis." + +"But if it has no foundation?" + +"I must tell you that you are negative, doctor, and not suggestive. We +have a criminal and you have not. Do you see one?" + +Saniel thought that the judge looked at him with a disagreeable +persistency. + +"No," he said, sharply. + +Then rising, he said, more calmly: + +"That is not in my line." + +He had nothing to do but to retire, which he did; and on passing through +the vestibule he said to himself that the magistrate was right. He +believed that he held a criminal. Why should he let him go? + +As for him, he had done what he could. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +NOUGAREDE'S BRIDE + +Saniel passed the first proofs of his two 'concours' so brilliantly that +the results of either were not doubtful. In delivering his thesis for +the 'agregation', he commanded the admiration of his audience; by turns +aggressive, severe, ironical, eloquent, he reduced his adversary to such +an extremity that, overwhelmed, he was not able to reply. In his lecture +at the hospital, his eloquence and his clear demonstration convinced the +judges who were opposed to him that he was in the right. + +What could Caffie's death weigh, placed in the balance with these +results? So little that it counted for nothing, and would have held no +place in his thoughts if it had not been mixed in his mind with the +accusation that would send Florentin to the assizes. + +Cleared of this fact, the death of the old man rarely crossed his mind. +He had other things in his head, truly, than this memory which brought +neither regret nor remorse; and it was not at this moment, when he +touched the end at which he aimed, that he would embarrass himself, or +sadden his triumph, with Caffie. + +A little before the expiration of the two months, during which time the +poste restante retained the letters containing the thirty thousand +francs, he called for them, and readdressed and mailed them to other +post-offices. + +What did he want of this money, which was, in reality, a nuisance? His +habits remained the same, except that he no longer struggled with his +creditors, and paid cash for everything. He had no desire to make any +change in his former mode of living; his ambition was otherwise and +higher than in the small satisfactions, very small for him, that money +gives. + +Days passed without a thought of Caffie, except in connection with +Florentin. But Florentin, and above all, Phillis, reminded him that the +comfort he enjoyed he owed to Caffie's death, and he was troubled +accordingly. + +He did not believe that the investigations of the law would reach him +now; everything conspired to confirm him in his scrutiny. That which he +arranged so laboriously had succeeded according to his wish, and the only +imprudence that he had committed, in a moment of aberration, seemed not +to have been observed; no one had noticed his presence in the cafe +opposite Caffie's house, and no one was astonished at his pertinacity in +remaining there at an hour so unusual. + +But it was not enough that he was safe; he must prevent Florentin from +being unjustly condemned for a crime of which he was innocent. It was a +great deal that he should be imprisoned, that his sister should be in +despair, and his mother ill from chagrin; but if he should be sent to the +scaffold or to the galleys, it would be too much. In itself the death of +Caffie was a small thing; it became atrocious if it led to such an +ending. + +He did not wish this to happen, and he would do everything not only to +prevent the condemnation, but to shorten the imprisonment. + +It was this sentiment that he obeyed in going to see the judge; but the +manner in which he was received, showing him that the law was not +disposed to let its hypothesis be changed by a simple medical +demonstration, threw him into a state of uneasiness and perplexity. + +Without doubt, any one else in his place would have let things take their +course, and since the law had a criminal with which it contented itself, +would have done nothing to release him. While it followed its hypothesis +to prove the criminality of the one it held, it would not look elsewhere; +when it had condemned him, all would be finished; the Caffie affair would +be buried, as Caffie himself was buried; silence and oblivion would give +him security. The crime punished, the conscience of the public +satisfied, it would ask for no more, not even to know if the debt was +paid by the one who really owed it; it was paid, and that was sufficient. +But he was not "any one else," and if he found the death of this old +scamp legitimate, it was on the condition that Florentin did not pay for +it, from whom he had not profited. + +Florentin must be released as soon as possible, and it was his duty to +interest himself in his behalf--his imperative duty not only toward +Phillis, but toward himself. + +He told Phillis that until Florentin came before the jury, he could do +nothing, or almost nothing. When the time came, he would assert his +authority, and speaking in the name of science, he would prove to the +jury that the story of the button was an invention of the police, who +were pushed to extremes, and would not bear examination; but until then +the poor boy remained at Mazas, and however assured one might be at this +moment of an acquittal, an immediate 'ordonnance de non-lieu' was of more +value, if it could be obtained. + +For this the intervention and direction of a doctor were of little use; +it required that of an advocate. + +Whom should he have? Phillis would have liked to apply to the most +illustrious, to him who, by his talent, authority, and success, would win +all his cases. But Saniel explained to her that workers of miracles were +probably as difficult to find at the bar as in the medical profession, +and that, if they did exist, they would expect a large fee. To tell the +truth, he would have willingly given the thirty thousand francs in the +'poste restante', or a large part of this sum, to give Florentin his +liberty; but it would be imprudent to take out the bills at this moment, +and he could not declare that he had thirty thousand francs, or even ten +thousand. He decided with Phillis to consult Brigard. + +On a Wednesday he went to the parlor in the Rue Vaugirard, where he had +not been since his experiment with Glady. As usual, he was received +affectionately by Crozat, who scolded him for coming so rarely, and as +usual also, in order not to disturb the discussion that was going on, he +remained standing near the door. + +This evening the theme of the discourse was a phrase of Chateaubriand's: +"The tiger kills and sleeps; man kills and is sleepless." On listening +to the discussion, Saniel said to himself that it was truly a pity not to +be able to reply to all this rhetoric by a simple fact of personal +experience. He had never slept so well, so tranquilly, as since Caffie's +death, which relieved him from all the cares that in these last months +had tormented and broken his sleep so much. + +At the end, Brigard concluded the discussion on saying that nothing +better proved the power of the human conscience than this difference +between man and beast. + +When they had all gone but Brigard, and Saniel was alone with him and +Crozat, he stated his desire. + +"But is it the Caffie affair?" + +"Exactly." + +And he explained in detail the interest he felt in Florentin, the son of +one of his patients, and also the situation of this patient. + +Brigard strongly recommended Nougarede, and described his recent +successes before a jury. Crozat concurred with Brigard, and advised +Saniel to see Nougarede the day after to-morrow. + +"In the morning, because after the Palais, Nougarede will be at his +wedding, which, as you know, prevents him from coming here this evening." + +"What! Nougarede married?" exclaimed Saniel, surprised that the +favorite disciple gave this lie to the doctrine and examples of his +master. + +"My God, yes! We must not be too hard on him. + +He submits to the fate of a special environment. Without our knowledge, +Nougarede, we may say it now, and ought to say it, was the happy lover of +a charming young person, the daughter of one of our most distinguished +actresses, who was brought up in a fashionable convent. You see the +situation. The result of this liaison was a child, a delicious little +boy. It seemed quite natural that they should live 'en union libre', +since they loved each other, and not weaken by legalities the strength +of those that attached them to this child. But the mother is an actress, +as I have told you, and wished her daughter to receive all the sacraments +that the law and the church can confer. She managed so well that poor +Nougarede yielded. He goes to the mayor, to the church; he legitimizes +the child, and he even accepts a dot of two hundred thousand francs. I +pity him, the unfortunate man! But I confess that I have the weakness to +not condemn him as he would deserve if he married in any other way." + +Saniel was a little surprised at these points of resemblance with the +charming young person that Caffie had proposed to him. At the least, it +was curious; but if it were the same woman, he was not vexed to see that +Nougarede had been less difficult than himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +STUNNING NEWS + +On going to see Nougarede, Saniel vaguely fancied the lawyer would tell +him that an acquittal was certain if Florentin passed to the assizes, and +even that an 'ordonnance de non-lieu' was probable. But his hope was not +realized. + +"The adventure of the button for you or me would not have the same +gravity as for this boy; we have no antecedents on which presumptions +might be established, but he has. The forty-five francs which constitute +an embezzlement for a salaried man will be, certainly, a starting-point +for the accusation; one commences by a weakness and finishes by a crime. +Do you not hear the advocate-general? He will begin by presenting the +portrait of the honest, laborious, exact, scrupulous clerk, content with +a little, and getting satisfaction from his duties accomplished; then, in +opposition, he will pass to the clerk of to-day, as irregular in his work +as in his conduct, full of desires, in a hurry to enjoy, discontented +with everything and everybody, with others as with himself. And he will +go on to speak of the embezzlement of the forty-five francs as the +beginning of the crimes that led to the assassination. You may be sure +if the affair goes to the assizes that you will hear these words and +more, and I assure you that it will be difficult for us to destroy the +impression that he will produce on the jury. But I hope we shall +succeed." + +He had to give up the idea of obtaining the 'ordonnance de non-lieu', +and to tell himself that the 'affaire' would come before the assizes; +but it does not follow that one is condemned for what one is accused of, +and Saniel persisted in believing that Florentin would not be. +Assuredly, the prison was hard for the poor boy, and the trial before the +jury, with all the ignominy that necessarily accompanies it, would be +harder yet. But, after all, it would all disappear in the joy of +acquittal; when that time came, there would be found, surely, some +ingenious idea, sympathy, effective support, to pay him for all that he +would have suffered. Certainly, things would come to pass thus, and the +acquittal would be carried with a high hand. + +He said this to himself again and again, and from the day when he put the +affair in Nougarede's hands, he often went to see him, to hear him repeat +it. + +"He cannot be condemned; can he?" + +"One may always be condemned, even when one is innocent; as one may die +at any time, you know that, even with excellent health." + +In one of these visits he met Madame Nougarede, who had then been several +days married, and on recognizing in her the young virgin with a child, of +whom Caffie showed him the portrait, he was strengthened in his idea that +conscience, such as it was understood, was decidedly a strange weighing- +machine, which might be made to say whatever one chose. Of what good +were these hypocrisies, and whom did they deceive? + +Although he had told Phillis repeatedly that an acquittal was certain, +and that he had promised her he would do all he could for Florentin-- +which he really did--she did not give entirely into his hands, or into +Nougarede's, the task of defending her brother, but worked with them in +his defence. + +Nougarede believed that the delay in bringing the affair before the +assizes was caused by the attempts to learn if, during his residence in +America, Florentin had not worked in some large meat-shop or sheepfold, +where he would have learned to use a butcher knife, which was the chief +point for the accusation. Phillis wrote to the various towns where +Florentin had lived, and to tell the truth, he had worked at La Plata for +six months as accountant in a large sheepfold, but never slaughtered the +sheep. + +When she received a letter, she carried it immediately to Saniel, and +then to Nougarede; and, at the same time, on all sides, in Paris, among +those who had held relations with her brother, she sought for testimony +that should prove to the jury that he could not be the man that his +accusers believed him. It was thus that, all alone, without other means +of action than those which she found in her sisterly tenderness and +bravery, she organized an investigation parallel to that of the law, +which, on the day of judgment, would carry a certain weight, it seemed, +with the conviction of the jury, showing them what had been the true life +of this irregular and debauched man, capable of anything to glut his +appetite and satisfy his desires. + +Each time that she obtained a favorable deposition, she ran to Saniel to +tell him, and then together they repeated that a conviction was +impossible. + +"You are sure, are you not?" + +"Have I not always told you so?" + +He had also said that Florentin could not be arrested, basing the +accusation on the torn button, and he had said that certainly an +'ordonnance de non-lieu' would be given by the judge; but they wished +to remember neither the one nor the other. + +Things had reached this state, when one Saturday evening Phillis arrived +at Saniel's, radiant. + +As soon as the door opened she exclaimed: + +"He is saved!" + +"An ordonnance de non-lieu?" + +"No; but now it is of little importance. We can go to the assizes." + +She breathed a sigh which showed how great were her fears, in spite of +the confidence she expressed when she repeated that conviction was +impossible. + +He left his desk, and going toward her, took her in his arms, and made +her sit down beside him on the divan. + +"You will see that I do not let myself be carried away by an illusion, +and that, as I tell you, he is saved, really saved. You know that an +illustrated paper has published his portrait?" + +"I do not read illustrated papers." + +"You could have seen them at the kiosks where they are displayed. +It is there that I saw them yesterday morning when I went out, and I was +petrified, red with shame, distracted, not knowing where to hide myself. +'Florentin Cormier, the assassin of the Rue Sainte-Anne.' Is it not +infamous that an innocent person should be thus dishonored? This was +what I said to myself. Where did the paper get the photograph? They +came to ask us for one, but you can imagine how I treated them, not +knowing how anything good for us would result from such a disgrace." + +"And what is the result?" + +"The proof that it is not Florentin who was with Caffie at the moment +when the assassination took place. All day yesterday and all this +morning I was filled with the feeling of disgrace that followed me, when +at three o'clock I received this little note from the concierge of the +Rue Sainte-Anne." + +She took from her pocket a piece of paper folded in the form of a letter, +which she handed to Saniel. + + "MADEMOISELLE: If you will pass through the Rue Sainte-Anne, I have + something to tell you that will give you a great deal of pleasure, I + believe. + "I am your servant, + "WIDOW ANAIS BOUCHU." + +"You know the lame old concierge has never been willing to admit that my +brother could be guilty. Florentin was polite and kind to her during his +stay with Caffie, and she is grateful. Very often she has said to me +that she is certain the guilty one would be found, and that when it was +announced I must tell her. Instead of my telling her the good news, she +has written to me. You may be sure I hurried to the Rue Sainte-Anne, +expecting to hear something favorable, but we have a proof. When I +arrived, the old woman took both of my hands, and told me that she would +conduct me immediately to a lady who saw Caffie's assassin." + +"Saw him!" exclaimed Saniel, struck by a blow that shook him from head +to foot. + +"She saw him perfectly, as I tell you. She added that this lady was the +proprietor of the house, and that she lived in the second wing of the +building, on the second story on the court, just opposite to Caffie's +office. This lady, who is called Madame Dammauville, widow of a lawyer, +is afflicted with paralysis, and I believe has not left her room for a +year. The concierge explained this to me while crossing the court and +mounting the stairs, but would say no more." + +If Phillis had been able to observe Saniel, she would have seen him pale +to such a degree that his lips were as white as his cheeks; but she was +completely absorbed in what she was saying. + +"A servant conducted us to Madame Dammauville, whom I found in a small +bed near a window, and the concierge told her who I was. She received me +kindly, and after having made me sit down in front of her, she told me +that hearing from her concierge that I was exerting myself in my +brother's behalf, she had something to tell me which would demonstrate +that Caffie's assassin was not the man whom the law had arrested and +detained. The evening of the assassination she was in this same room, +lying on this same bed, before this same window, and after having read +all day, she reflected and dreamed about her book, while listlessly +watching the coming of twilight in the court, that already obscured +everything in its shadow. Mechanically she had fixed her eyes on the +window of Caffie's office opposite. Suddenly she saw a tall man, whom +she took for an upholsterer, approach the window, and try to draw the +curtains. Then Caffie rose, and taking the lamp, he came forward in such +a way that the light fell full on the face of this upholsterer. You +understand, do you not?" + +"Yes," murmured Saniel. + +"She saw him then plainly enough to remember him, and not to confound him +with another. Tall, with long hair, a curled blond beard, and dressed +like a gentleman, not like a poor man. The curtains were drawn. It was +fifteen or twenty minutes after five. And it was at this same moment +that Caffie was butchered by this false upholsterer, who evidently had +only drawn the curtains so that he might kill Caffie in security, and not +imagining that some one should see him doing a deed that denounced him as +the assassin as surely as if he had been surprised with the knife in his +hand. On reading the description of Florentin in the newspapers when he +was arrested, Madame Dammauville believed the criminal was found--a tall +man, with long hair and curled beard. There are some points of +resemblance, but in the portrait published in the illustrated paper that +she received, she did not recognize the man who drew the curtains, and +she is certain that the judge is deceived. You see that Florentin is +saved!" + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +For the rest of his life he would be the prisoner of his crime +In his eyes everything was decided by luck +Looking for a needle in a bundle of hay +Neither so simple nor so easy as they at first appeared + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Conscience, v2 +by Hector Malot + |