Monsieur Lecoq, v. 1 by Emile Gaboriau (hardest books to read .TXT) 📕

blow of my fist I felled him to the ground. In an instant all the others were upon me! I had my revolver—you know the rest.”

“And while all this was going on what were the two women doing?”

“Ah! I was too busy to pay any attention to them. They disappeared!”

“But you saw them when you entered the place—what were they like?”

“Oh! they were big, ugly creatures, as tall as grenadiers, and as dark as moles!”

Between plausible falsehood, and improbable truth, justice—human justice, and therefore liable to error—is compelled to decide as best it can. For the past hour M. Segmuller had not been free from mental disquietude. But all his doubts vanished when he heard the prisoner declare that the two women were tall and dark. If he had said: “The women were fair,” M. Segmuller would not have known what to believe, but in the magistrate’s opinion the audacious falsehood he had just heard proved that there was a perfect understanding between the supposed murderer and Widow Chupin.

Certainly, M. Segmuller’s satisfaction was great; but his face did not betray it. It was of the utmost importance that the prisoner should believe that he had succeeded in deceiving his examiner. “You must understand how necessary it is to find these women,” said the magistrate kindly.

“If their testimony corresponds with your allegations, your innocence will be proved conclusively.”

“Yes, I understand that; but how can I put my hand upon them?”

“The police can assist you—our agents are always at the service of prisoners who desire to make use of them in establishing their innocence. Did you make any observations which might aid in the discovery of these women?”

Lecoq, whose eyes never wandered from the prisoner’s face, fancied that he saw the faint shadow of a smile on the man’s lips.

“I remarked nothing,” said the prisoner coldly.

M. Segmuller had opened the drawer of his desk a moment before. He now drew from it the earring which had been found on the scene of the tragedy, and handing it abruptly to the prisoner, he asked: “So you didn’t notice this in the ear of one of the women?”

The prisoner’s imperturbable coolness of demeanor did not forsake him. He took the jewel in his hand, examined it attentively, held it up to the light, admired its brilliant scintillations, and said: “It is a very handsome stone, but I didn’t notice it.”

“This stone,” remarked the magistrate, “is a diamond.”

“Ah!”

“Yes; and worth several thousand francs.”

“So much as that!”

This exclamation may have been in accordance with the spirit of the part assumed by the prisoner; though, at the same time, its simplicity was undoubtedly far-fetched. It was strange that a nomad, such as the murderer pretended to have been, acquainted with most of the countries and capitals of Europe, should have displayed this astonishment on learning the value of a diamond. Still, M. Segmuller did not seem to notice the discrepancy.

“Another thing,” said he. “When you threw down your pistol, crying, ‘Come and take me,’ what did you intend to do?”

“I intended to make my escape.”

“In what way?”

“Why, of course, by the door, sir—by—”

“Yes, by the back door,” retorted the magistrate, with freezing irony. “It remains for you to explain how you—you who had just entered that hovel for the first time—could have known of this door’s existence.”

For once, in the course of the examination, the prisoner seemed troubled. For an instant all his assurance forsook him. He evidently perceived the danger of his position, and after a considerable effort he contrived to burst out in a laugh. His laugh was a poor one, however; it rang false, and failed to conceal a sensation of deep anxiety. Growing gradually bolder, he at length exclaimed: “That’s nonsense, I had just seen these two women go out by that very door.”

“Excuse me, you declared a minute ago that you did not see these women leave: that you were too busy to watch their movements.”

“Did I say that?”

“Word for word; the passage shall be shown you. Goguet, find it.”

The clerk at once read the passage referred to, whereupon the prisoner undertook to show that the remark had been misunderstood. He had not said—at least, he did not intend to say—that; they had quite misinterpreted his words. With such remarks did he try to palliate the effect of his apparent blunders.

In the mean while, Lecoq was jubilant. “Ah, my fine fellow,” thought he, “you are contradicting yourself—you are in deep water already—you are lost. There’s no hope for you.”

The prisoner’s situation was indeed not unlike that of a bather, who, unable to swim, imprudently advances into the sea until the water rises above his chin. He may for a while have preserved his equilibrium, despite the buffeting of the waves, but now he totters, loses his footing—another second, and he will sink!

“Enough—enough!” said the magistrate, cutting the prisoner’s embarrassed explanation short. “Now, if you started out merely with the intention of amusing yourself, how did it happen that you took your revolver with you?”

“I had it with me while I was traveling, and did not think of leaving it at the hotel any more than I thought of changing my clothes.”

“Where did you purchase it?”

“It was given me by M. Simpson as a souvenir.”

“Confess that this M. Simpson is a very convenient personage,” said the magistrate coldly. “Still, go on with your story. Only two chambers of this murderous weapon were discharged, but three men were killed. You have not told me the end of the affair.”

“What’s the use?” exclaimed the prisoner, in saddened tones. “Two of my assailants had fallen; the struggle became an equal one. I seized the remaining man, the soldier, round the body, and threw him down. He fell against a corner of the table, and did not rise again.”

M. Segmuller had unfolded upon his desk the plan of the Poivriere drawn by Lecoq. “Come here,” he said, addressing the prisoner, “and show me on this paper the precise spot you and your adversaries occupied.”

May obeyed, and with an assurance of manner a little surprising in a man in his position, he proceeded to explain the drama. “I entered,” said he, “by this door, marked C; I seated myself at the table, H, to the left of the entrance: my assailants occupied the table between the fireplace, F, and the window, B.”

“I must admit,” said the magistrate, “that your assertions fully agree with the statements of the physicians, who say that one of the shots must have been fired about