Within an Inch of His Life by Emile Gaboriau (latest novels to read txt) 📕

There was no need of such a serious appeal to stop at once all the lawyer’s quotations.

“Enough!” he said eagerly. “Come, let us take measures to catch the wretches.”

When they reached National Street, it was as full as at mid-day; for Sauveterre is one of those rare provincial towns in which an excitement is too rare a treat to be neglected. The sad event had by this time become fully known everywhere. At first the news had been doubted; but when the doctor’s cab had passed the crowd at full speed, escorted by a peasant on horseback, the reports were believed. Nor had the firemen lost time. As soon as the mayor and M. Daubigeon appeared on New-Market Square, Capt. Parenteau rushed up to them, and, touching his helmet with a military salute, said,—

“My men are ready.”

“All?”

“There are hardly ten absentees. When they heard that Count and Countess Claudieuse were in need—great heavens!—you know, they all were ready in a moment.”

“Well, then, start and make haste,” commanded M. Seneschal. “We shall overtake you on the way: M. Daubigeon and I are going to pick up M. Galpin, the magistrate.”

They had not far to go.

The magistrate had already been looking for them all over town: he was just appearing on the Square, and saw them at once.

In striking contrast with the commonwealth attorney, M. Galpin was a professional man in the full sense of the word, and perhaps a little more. He was the magistrate all over, from head to foot, and from the gaiters on his ankles to the light blonde whiskers on his face. Although he was quite young, yet no one had ever seen him smile, or heard him make a joke. He was so very stiff that M. Daubigeon suggested he had been impaled alive on the sword of justice.

At Sauveterre M. Galpin was looked upon as a superior man. He certainly believed it himself: hence he was very impatient at being confined to so narrow a sphere of action, and thought his brilliant ability wasted upon the prosecution of a chicken-thief or a poacher. But his almost desperate efforts to secure a better office had always been unsuccessful. In vain he had enlisted a host of friends in his behalf. In vain he had thrown himself into politics, ready to serve any party that would serve him.

But M. Galpin’s ambition was not easily discouraged, and lately after a journey to Paris, he had thrown out hints at a great match, which would shortly procure him that influence in high places which so far he had been unable to obtain. When he joined M. Daubigeon and the mayor, he said,—

“Well, this is a horrible affair! It will make a tremendous noise.” The mayor began to give him the details, but he said,—

“Don’t trouble yourself. I know all you know. I met the peasant who had been sent in, and I have examined him.”

Then, turning to the commonwealth attorney, he added,—

“I think we ought to proceed at once to the place where the crime has been committed.”

“I was going to suggest it to you,” replied M. Daubigeon.

“The gendarmes ought to be notified.”

“M. Seneschal has just sent them word.”

The magistrate was so much excited, that his cold impassiveness actually threatened to give way for once.

“There has been an attempt at murder.”

“Evidently.”

“Then we can act in concert, and side by side, each one in his own line of duty, you examining, and I preparing for the trial.”

An ironical smile passed over the lips of the commonwealth attorney.

“You ought to know me well enough,” he said, “to be sure that I have never interfered with your duties and privileges. I am nothing but a good old fellow, a friend of peace and of studies.

“‘Sum piger et senior, Pieridumque comes.’”

“Then,” exclaimed M. Seneschal, “nothing keeps us here any longer. I am impatient to be off; my carriage is ready; let us go!”

II.

In a straight line it is only a mile from Sauveterre to Valpinson; but that mile is as long as two elsewhere. M. Seneschal, however, had a good horse, “the best perhaps in the county,” he said, as he got into his carriage. In ten minutes they had overtaken the firemen, who had left some time before them. And yet these good people, all of them master workmen of Sauveterre, masons, carpenters, and tilers, hurried along as fast as they could. They had half a dozen smoking torches with them to light them on the way: they walked, puffing and groaning, on the bad road, and pulling the two engines, together with the heavy cart on which they had piled up their ladders and other tools.

“Keep up, my friends!” said the mayor as he passed them,—“keep up!” Three minutes farther on, a peasant on horseback appeared in the dark, riding along like a forlorn knight in a romance. M. Daubigeon ordered him to halt. He stopped.

“You come from Valpinson?” asked M. Seneschal.

“Yes,” replied the peasant.

“How is the count?”

“He has come to at last.”

“What does the doctor say?”

“He says he will live. I am going to the druggist to get some medicines.” M. Galpin, to hear better, was leaning out of the carriage. He asked,—

“Do they accuse any one?”

“No.”

“And the fire?”

“They have water enough,” replied the peasant, “but no engines: so what can they do? And the wind is rising again! Oh, what a misfortune!”

He rode off as fast as he could, while M. Seneschal was whipping his poor horse, which, unaccustomed as it was to such treatment, instead of going any faster, only reared, and jumped from side to side. The excellent man was in despair. He looked upon this crime as if it had been committed on purpose to disgrace him, and to do the greatest possible injury to his administration.

“For after all,” he said, for the tenth time to his companions, “is it natural, I ask you, is it sensible, that a man should think of attacking the Count and the Countess Claudieuse, the most distinguished and the most esteemed people in the whole county, and especially a lady whose name is synonymous with virtue and charity?”

And, without minding the ruts and the stones in the road, M. Seneschal went on repeating all he knew about the owners of Valpinson.

Count Trivulce Claudieuse was the last scion of one of the oldest families