L'affaire Lerouge. English

  CHAPTER X.

  The visitor who risks himself in the labyrinth of galleries andstairways in the Palais de Justice, and mounts to the third story inthe left wing, will find himself in a long, low-studded gallery, badlylighted by narrow windows, and pierced at short intervals by littledoors, like a hall at the ministry or at a lodging-house.

  It is a place difficult to view calmly, the imagination makes it appearso dark and dismal.

  It needs a Dante to compose an inscription to place above the doorswhich lead from it. From morning to night, the flagstones resound underthe heavy tread of the gendarmes, who accompany the prisoners. You canscarcely recall anything but sad figures there. There are the parents orfriends of the accused, the witnesses, the detectives. In this gallery,far from the sight of men, the judicial curriculum is gone through with.

  Each one of the little doors, which has its number painted over it inblack, opens into the office of a judge of inquiry. All the rooms arejust alike: if you see one, you have seen them all. They have nothingterrible nor sad in themselves; and yet it is difficult to enter one ofthem without a shudder. They are cold. The walls all seem moist withthe tears which have been shed there. You shudder, at thinking of theavowals wrested from the criminals, of the confessions broken with sobsmurmured there.

  In the office of the judge of inquiry, Justice clothes herself in noneof that apparel which she afterwards dons in order to strike fear intothe masses. She is still simple, and almost disposed to kindness. Shesays to the prisoner,--

  "I have strong reasons for thinking you guilty; but prove to me yourinnocence, and I will release you."

  On entering one of these rooms, a stranger would imagine that he gotinto a cheap shop by mistake. The furniture is of the most primitivesort, as is the case in all places where important matters aretransacted. Of what consequence are surroundings to the judge huntingdown the author of a crime, or to the accused who is defending his life?

  A desk full of documents for the judge, a table for the clerk, anarm-chair, and one or two chairs besides comprise the entire furnitureof the antechamber of the court of assize. The walls are hung with greenpaper; the curtains are green, and the floors are carpeted in the samecolor. Monsieur Daburon's office bore the number fifteen.

  M. Daburon had arrived at his office in the Palais de Justice at nineo'clock in the morning, and was waiting. His course resolved upon,he had not lost an instant, understanding as well as old Tabaret thenecessity for rapid action. He had already had an interview with thepublic prosecutor, and had arranged everything with the police.

  Besides issuing the warrant against Albert, he had summoned the Count deCommarin, Madame Gerdy, Noel, and some of Albert's servants, to appearbefore him with as little delay as possible.

  He thought it essential to question all these persons before examiningthe prisoner. Several detectives had started off to execute his orders,and he himself sat in his office, like a general commanding an army,who sends off his aide-de-camp to begin the battle, and who hopes thatvictory will crown his combinations.

  Often, at this same hour, he had sat in this office, under circumstancesalmost identical. A crime had been committed, and, believing he haddiscovered the criminal, he had given orders for his arrest. Was notthat his duty? But he had never before experienced the anxiety of mindwhich disturbed him now. Many a time had he issued warrants of arrest,without possessing even half the proofs which guided him in the presentcase. He kept repeating this to himself; and yet he could not quiet hisdreadful anxiety, which would not allow him a moment's rest.

  He wondered why his people were so long in making their appearance. Hewalked up and down the room, counting the minutes, drawing out his watchthree times within a quarter of an hour, to compare it with the clock.Every time he heard a step in the passage, almost deserted at thathour, he moved near the door, stopped and listened. At length someone knocked. It was his clerk, whom he had sent for. There was nothingparticular in this man; he was tall rather than big, and very slim.His gait was precise, his gestures were methodical, and his face was asimpassive as if it had been cut out of a piece of yellow wood. He wasthirty-four years of age and during fifteen years had acted as clerkto four investigating magistrates in succession. He could hear the mostastonishing things without moving a muscle. His name was Constant.

  He bowed to the magistrate, and excused himself for his tardiness. Hehad been busy with some book-keeping, which he did every morning; andhis wife had had to send after him.

  "You are still in good time," said M. Daburon: "but we shall soon haveplenty of work: so you had better get your paper ready."

  Five minutes later, the usher introduced M. Noel Gerdy. He enteredwith an easy manner, like an advocate who was well acquainted with thePalais, and who knew its winding ways. He in no wise resembled, thismorning, old Tabaret's friend; still less could he have been recognizedas Madame Juliette's lover. He was entirely another being, or rather hehad resumed his every-day bearing. From his firm step, his placidface, one would never imagine that, after an evening of emotion andexcitement, after a secret visit to his mistress, he had passed thenight by the pillow of a dying woman, and that woman his mother, or atleast one who had filled his mother's place.

  What a contrast between him and the magistrate!

  M. Daburon had not slept either: but one could easily see that in hisfeebleness, in his anxious look, in the dark, circles about his eyes.His shirt-front was all rumpled, and his cuffs were far from clean.Carried away by the course of events, the mind had forgotten the body.Noel's well-shaved chin, on the contrary, rested upon an irreproachablywhite cravat; his collar did not show a crease; his hair and hiswhiskers had been most carefully brushed. He bowed to M. Daburon, andheld out the summons he had received.

  "You summoned me, sir," he said; "and I am here awaiting your orders."

  The investigating magistrate had met the young advocate several times inthe lobbies of the Palais; and he knew him well by sight. He rememberedhaving heard M. Gerdy spoken of as a man of talent and promise,whose reputation was fast rising. He therefore welcomed him as afellow-workman, and invited him to be seated.

  The preliminaries common in the examinations of all witnesses ended;the name, surname, age, place of business, and so on having been writtendown, the magistrate, who had followed his clerk with his eyes while hewas writing, turned towards Noel.

  "I presume you know, M. Gerdy," he began, "the matters in connectionwith which you are troubled with appearing before me?"

  "Yes, sir, the murder of that poor old woman at La Jonchere."

  "Precisely," replied M. Daburon. Then, calling to mind his promise toold Tabaret, he added, "If justice has summoned you so promptly, itis because we have found your name often mentioned in Widow Lerouge'spapers."

  "I am not surprised at that," replied the advocate: "we were greatlyinterested in that poor woman, who was my nurse; and I know that MadameGerdy wrote to her frequently."

  "Very well; then you can give me some information about her."

  "I fear, sir, that it will be very incomplete. I know very little aboutthis poor old Madame Lerouge. I was taken from her at a very earlyage; and, since I have been a man, I have thought but little about her,except to send her occasionally a little aid."

  "You never went to visit her?"

  "Excuse me. I have gone there to see her many times, but I remained onlya few minutes. Madame Gerdy, who has often seen her, and to whom shetalked of all her affairs, could have enlightened you much better thanI."

  "But," said the magistrate, "I expect shortly to see Madame Gerdy here;she, too, must have received a summons."

  "I know it, sir, but it is impossible for her to appear. She is ill inbed."

  "Seriously?"

  "So seriously that you will be obliged, I think, to give up all hope ofher testimony. She is attacked with a disease which, in the words of myfriend, Dr. Herve, never forgives. It is something like inflammation ofthe brain, if I am not mistaken. It may be that her life will be sav
ed,but she will never recover her reason. If she does not die, she will beinsane."

  M. Daburon appeared greatly vexed. "This is very annoying," he muttered."And you think, my dear sir, that it will be impossible to obtain anyinformation from her?"

  "It is useless even to hope for it. She has completely lost her reason.She was, when I left her, in such a state of utter prostration that Ifear she can not live through the day."

  "And when was she attacked by this illness?"

  "Yesterday evening."

  "Suddenly?"

  "Yes, sir; at least, apparently so, though I myself think she has beenunwell for the last three weeks at least. Yesterday, however, on risingfrom dinner, after having eaten but little, she took up a newspaper;and, by a most unfortunate hazard, her eyes fell exactly upon the lineswhich gave an account of this crime. She at once uttered a loud cry,fell back in her chair, and thence slipped to the floor, murmuring, 'Oh,the unhappy man, the unhappy man!'"

  "The unhappy woman, you mean."

  "No, sir. She uttered the words I have just repeated. Evidently theexclamation did not refer to my poor nurse."

  Upon this reply, so important and yet made in the most unconscious tone,M. Daburon raised his eyes to the witness. The advocate lowered hishead.

  "And then?" asked the magistrate, after a moment's silence, during whichhe had taken a few notes.

  "Those words, sir, were the last spoken by Madame Gerdy. Assisted by ourservant, I carried her to her bed. The doctor was sent for; and, sincethen, she has not recovered consciousness. The doctor--"

  "It is well," interrupted M. Daburon. "Let us leave that for thepresent. Do you know, sir, whether Widow Lerouge had any enemies?"

  "None that I know of, sir."

  "She had no enemies? Well, now tell me, does there exist to yourknowledge any one having the least interest in the death of this poorwoman?"

  As he asked this question the investigating magistrate kept his eyesfixed on Noel's, not wishing him to turn or lower his head.

  The advocate started, and seemed deeply moved. He was disconcerted; hehesitated, as if a struggle was going on within him.

  Finally, in a voice which was by no means firm, he replied, "No, noone."

  "Is that really true?" asked the magistrate, looking at him moresearchingly. "You know no one whom this crime benefits, or whom it mightbenefit,--absolutely no one?"

  "I know only one thing, sir," replied Noel; "and that is, that, as faras I am concerned, it has caused me an irreparable injury."

  "At last," thought M. Daburon, "we have got at the letters; and I havenot betrayed poor old Tabaret. It would be too bad to cause the leasttrouble to that zealous and invaluable man." He then added aloud: "Aninjury to you, my dear sir? You will, I hope, explain yourself."

  Noel's embarrassment, of which he had already given some signs, appearedmuch more marked.

  "I am aware, sir," he replied, "that I owe justice not merely the truth,but the whole truth; but there are circumstances involved so delicatethat the conscience of a man of honour sees danger in them. Besides, itis very hard to be obliged to unveil such sad secrets, the revelation ofwhich may sometimes--"

  M. Daburon interrupted with a gesture. Noel's sad tone impressed him.Knowing, beforehand, what he was about to hear, he felt for the youngadvocate. He turned to his clerk.

  "Constant!" said he in a peculiar tone. This was evidently a signal; forthe tall clerk rose methodically, put his pen behind his ear, and wentout in his measured tread.

  Noel appeared sensible of this kindness. His face expressed thestrongest gratitude; his look returned thanks.

  "I am very much obliged to you, sir," he said with suppressed warmth,"for your considerateness. What I have to say is very painful; but itwill be scarcely an effort to speak before you now."

  "Fear nothing," replied the magistrate; "I will only retain of yourdeposition, my dear sir, what seems to me absolutely indispensable."

  "I feel scarcely master of myself, sir," began Noel; "so pray pardonmy emotion. If any words escape me that seem charged with bitterness,excuse them; they will be involuntary. Up to the past few days, I alwaysbelieved that I was the offspring of illicit love. My history is short.I have been honourably ambitious; I have worked hard. He who has noname must make one, you know. I have passed a quiet life, retired andaustere, as people must, who, starting at the foot of the ladder, wishto reach the top. I worshipped her whom I believed to be my mother; andI felt convinced that she loved me in return. The stain of my birth hadsome humiliations attached to it; but I despised them. Comparing mylot with that of so many others, I felt that I had more than commonadvantages. One day, Providence placed in my hands all the letters whichmy father, the Count de Commarin, had written to Madame Gerdy duringthe time she was his mistress. On reading these letters, I was convincedthat I was not what I had hitherto believed myself to be,--that MadameGerdy was not my mother!"

  And, without giving M. Daburon time to reply, he laid before him thefacts which, twelve hours before, he had related to M. Tabaret. Itwas the same story, with the same circumstances, the same abundance ofprecise and conclusive details; but the tone in which it was told wasentirely changed. When speaking to the old detective, the youngadvocate had been emphatic and violent; but now, in the presence of theinvestigating magistrate, he restrained his vehement emotions.

  One might imagine that he adapted his style to his auditors, wishing toproduce the same effect on both, and using the method which would bestaccomplish his purpose.

  To an ordinary mind like M. Tabaret's he used the exaggeration of anger;but to a man of superior intelligence like M. Daburon, he employed theexaggeration of restraint. With the detective he had rebelled againsthis unjust lot; but with the magistrate he seemed to bow, full ofresignation, before a blind fatality.

  With genuine eloquence and rare facility of expression, he related hisfeelings on the day following the discovery,--his grief, his perplexity,his doubts.

  To support this moral certainty, some positive testimony was needed.Could he hope for this from the count or from Madame Gerdy, bothinterested in concealing the truth? No. But he had counted upon that ofhis nurse,--the poor old woman who loved him, and who, near the close ofher life, would be glad to free her conscience from this heavy load. Shewas dead now; and the letters became mere waste paper in his hands.

  Then he passed on to his explanation with Madame Gerdy, and he gave themagistrate even fuller details than he had given his old neighbour.

  She had, he said, at first utterly denied the substitution, but heinsinuated that, plied with questions, and overcome by the evidence, shehad, in a moment of despair, confessed all, declaring, soon after,that she would retract and deny this confession, being resolved at allhazards that her son should preserve his position.

  From this scene, in the advocate's judgment, might be dated the firstattacks of the illness, to which she was now succumbing.

  Noel then described his interview with the Viscount de Commarin. A fewinaccuracies occurred in his narrative, but so slight that it would havebeen difficult to charge him with them. Besides, there was nothing inthem at all unfavourable to Albert.

  He insisted, on the contrary, upon the excellent impression which thatyoung man had made on him. Albert had received the revelation with acertain distrust, it is true, but with a noble firmness at the sametime, and, like a brave heart, was ready to bow before the justificationof right.

  In fact, he drew an almost enthusiastic portrait of this rival, whohad not been spoiled by prosperity, who had left him without a look ofhatred, towards whom he felt himself drawn, and who after all was hisbrother.

  M. Daburon listened to Noel with the most unremitting attention, withoutallowing a word, a movement, or a frown, to betray his feelings.

  "How, sir," observed the magistrate when the young man ceased speaking,"could you have told me that, in your opinion, no one was interested inWidow Lerouge's death?"

  The advocate made no reply.

  "It seems t
o me," continued M. Daburon, "that the Viscount de Commarin'sposition has thereby become almost impregnable. Madame Gerdy is insane;the count will deny all; your letters prove nothing. It is evident thatthe crime is of the greatest service to this young man, and that it wascommitted at a singularly favourable moment."

  "Oh sir!" cried Noel, protesting with all his energy, "this insinuationis dreadful."

  The magistrate watched the advocate's face narrowly. Was he speakingfrankly, or was he but playing at being generous? Could it really bethat he had never had any suspicion of this?

  Noel did not flinch under the gaze, but almost immediatelycontinued,--"What reason could this young man have for trembling, orfearing for his position? I did not utter one threatening word, evenindirectly. I did not present myself like a man who, furious at beingrobbed, demands that everything which had been taken from him should berestored on the spot. I merely presented the facts to Albert, saying,'Here is the truth? what do you think we ought to do? Be the judge.'"

  "And he asked you for time?"

  "Yes. I had suggested his accompanying me to see Widow Lerouge, whosetestimony might dispel all doubts; he did not seem to understand me. Buthe was well acquainted with her, having visited her with the count, whosupplied her, I have since learned, liberally with money."

  "Did not this generosity appear to you very singular?"

  "No."

  "Can you explain why the viscount did not appear disposed to accompanyyou?"

  "Certainly. He had just said that he wished, before all, to have anexplanation with his father, who was then absent, but who would returnin a few days."

  The truth, as all the world knows, and delights in proclaiming, has anaccent which no one can mistake. M. Daburon had not the slightest doubtof his witness's good faith. Noel continued with the ingenuous candourof an honest heart which suspicion has never touched with itsbat's wing: "The idea of treating at once with my father pleased meexceedingly. I thought it so much better to wash all one's dirty linenat home, I had never desired anything but an amicable arrangement. Withmy hands full of proofs, I should still recoil from a public trial."

  "Would you not have brought an action?"

  "Never, sir, not at any price. Could I," he added proudly, "to regain myrightful name, begin by dishonouring it?"

  This time M. Daburon could not conceal his sincere admiration.

  "A most praiseworthy feeling, sir," he said.

  "I think," replied Noel, "that it is but natural. If things came to theworst, I had determined to leave my title with Albert. No doubt the nameof Commarin is an illustrious one; but I hope that, in ten yearstime, mine will be more known. I would, however, have demanded alarge pecuniary compensation. I possess nothing: and I have often beenhampered in my career by the want of money. That which Madame Gerdy owedto the generosity of my father was almost entirely spent. My educationhad absorbed a great part of it; and it was long before my professioncovered my expenses. Madame Gerdy and I live very quietly; but,unfortunately, though simple in her tastes, she lacks economy andsystem; and no one can imagine how great our expenses have been. ButI have nothing to reproach myself with, whatever happens. At thecommencement, I could not keep my anger well under control; but now Ibear no ill-will. On learning of the death of my nurse, though, I castall my hopes into the sea."

  "You were wrong, my dear sir," said the magistrate. "I advise you tostill hope. Perhaps, before the end of the day, you will enter intopossession of your rights. Justice, I will not conceal from you, thinksshe has found Widow Lerouge's assassin. At this moment, Viscount Albertis doubtless under arrest."

  "What!" exclaimed Noel, with a sort of stupor: "I was not, then,mistaken, sir, in the meaning of your words. I dreaded to understandthem."

  "You have not mistaken me, sir," said M. Daburon. "I thank you foryour sincere straightforward explanations; they have eased my taskmaterially. To-morrow,--for today my time is all taken up,--we willwrite down your deposition together if you like. I have nothing more tosay, I believe, except to ask you for the letters in your possession,and which are indispensable to me."

  "Within an hour, sir, you shall have them," replied Noel. Andhe retired, after having warmly expressed his gratitude to theinvestigating magistrate.

  Had he been less preoccupied, the advocate might have perceived at theend of the gallery old Tabaret, who had just arrived, eager and happy,like a bearer of great news as he was.

  His cab had scarcely stopped at the gate of the Palais de Justicebefore he was in the courtyard and rushing towards the porch. To see himjumping more nimbly than a fifth-rate lawyer's clerk up the steep flightof stairs leading to the magistrate's office, one would never havebelieved that he was many years on the shady side of fifty. Even hehimself had forgotten it. He did not remember how he had passed thenight; he had never before felt so fresh, so agile, in such spirits; heseemed to have springs of steel in his limbs.

  He burst like a cannon-shot into the magistrate's office, knocking upagainst the methodical clerk in the rudest of ways, without even askinghis pardon.

  "Caught!" he cried, while yet on the threshold, "caught, nipped,squeezed, strung, trapped, locked! We have got the man."

  Old Tabaret, more Tirauclair than ever, gesticulated with such comicalvehemence and such remarkable contortions that even the tall clerksmiled, for which, however, he took himself severely to task on going tobed that night.

  But M. Daburon, still under the influence of Noel's deposition, wasshocked at this apparently unseasonable joy; although he felt the saferfor it. He looked severely at old Tabaret, saying,--"Hush, sir; bedecent, compose yourself."

  At any other time, the old fellow would have felt ashamed at havingdeserved such a reprimand. Now, it made no impression on him.

  "I can't be quiet," he replied. "Never has anything like this been knownbefore. All that I mentioned has been found. Broken foil, lavender kidgloves slightly frayed, cigar-holder; nothing is wanting. You shall havethem, sir, and many other things besides. I have a little system of myown, which appears by no means a bad one. Just see the triumph of mymethod of induction, which Gevrol ridiculed so much. I'd give a hundredfrancs if he were only here now. But no; my Gevrol wants to nab theman with the earrings; he is just capable of doing that. He is a finefellow, this Gevrol, a famous fellow! How much do you give him a yearfor his skill?"

  "Come, my dear M. Tabaret," said the magistrate, as soon as he could getin a word, "be serious, if you can, and let us proceed in order."

  "Pooh!" replied the old fellow, "what good will that do? It is a clearcase now. When they bring the fellow before you, merely show him theparticles of kid taken from behind the nails of the victim, side by sidewith his torn gloves, and you will overwhelm him. I wager that he willconfess all, hic et nunc,--yes, I wager my head against his; althoughthat's pretty risky; for he may get off yet! Those milk-sops on the juryare just capable of according him extenuating circumstances. Ah! allthose delays are fatal to justice! Why if all the world were of my mind,the punishment of rascals wouldn't take such a time. They should behanged as soon as caught. That's my opinion."

  M. Daburon resigned himself to this shower of words. As soon as the oldfellow's excitement had cooled down a little, he began questioning him.He even then had great trouble in obtaining the exact details of thearrest; details which later on were confirmed by the commissary'sofficial report.

  The magistrate appeared very surprised when he heard that Albert hadexclaimed, "I am lost!" at sight of the warrant. "That," muttered he,"is a terrible proof against him."

  "I should think so," replied old Tabaret. "In his ordinary state, hewould never have allowed himself to utter such words; for they in factdestroy him. We arrested him when he was scarcely awake. He hadn't beenin bed, but was lying in a troubled sleep, upon a sofa, when we arrived.I took good care to let a frightened servant run in in advance, and tofollow closely upon him myself, to see the effect. All my arrangementswere made. But, never fear, he will find a plausible excuse for thisfatal exclamat
ion. By the way, I should add that we found on the floor,near by, a crumpled copy of last evening's 'Gazette de France,' whichcontained an account of the assassination. This is the first time that apiece of news in the papers ever helped to nab a criminal."

  "Yes," murmured the magistrate, deep in thought, "yes, you are avaluable man, M. Tabaret." Then, louder, he added, "I am thoroughlyconvinced; for M. Gerdy has just this moment left me."

  "You have seen Noel!" cried the old fellow. On the instant all his proudself-satisfaction disappeared. A cloud of anxiety spread itself likea veil over his beaming countenance. "Noel here," he repeated. Then hetimidly added: "And does he know?"

  "Nothing," replied M. Daburon. "I had no need of mentioning your name.Besides, had I not promised absolute secrecy?"

  "Ah, that's all right," cried old Tabaret. "And what do you think sir,of Noel?"

  "His is, I am sure, a noble, worthy heart," said the magistrate; "anature both strong and tender. The sentiments which I heard him expresshere, and the genuineness of which it is impossible to doubt, manifestedan elevation of soul, unhappily, very rare. Seldom in my life have I metwith a man who so won my sympathy from the first. I can well understandone's pride in being among his friends."

  "Just what I said; he has precisely the same effect upon every one. Ilove him as though he were my own child; and, whatever happens, hewill inherit almost the whole of my fortune: yes, I intend leaving himeverything. My will is made, and is in the hands of M. Baron, my notary.There is a small legacy, too, for Madame Gerdy; but I am going to havethe paragraph that relates to that taken out at once."

  "Madame Gerdy, M. Tabaret, will soon be beyond all need of worldlygoods."

  "How, what do you mean? Has the count--"

  "She is dying, and is not likely to live through the day; M. Gerdy toldme so himself."

  "Ah! heavens!" cried the old fellow, "what is that you say? Dying? Noelwill be distracted; but no: since she is not his mother, how can itaffect him? Dying! I thought so much of her before this discovery. Poorhumanity! It seems as though all the accomplices are passing away atthe same time; for I forgot to tell you, that, just as I was leavingthe Commarin mansion, I heard a servant tell another that the count hadfallen down in a fit on learning the news of his son's arrest."

  "That will be a great misfortune for M. Gerdy."

  "For Noel?"

  "I had counted upon M. de Commarin's testimony to recover for him allthat he so well deserves. The count dead, Widow Lerouge dead, MadameGerdy dying, or in any event insane, who then can tell us whether thesubstitution alluded to in the letters was ever carried into execution?"

  "True," murmured old Tabaret; "it is true! And I did not think of it.What fatality! For I am not deceived; I am certain that--"

  He did not finish. The door of M. Daburon's office opened, and the Countde Commarin himself appeared on the threshold, as rigid as one of thoseold portraits which look as though they were frozen in their gildedframes. The nobleman motioned with his hand, and the two servants whohad helped him up as far as the door, retired.