Other People's Money, Emile Gaboriau [best ebook reader txt] 📗

fault, M. le Marquis; for we were fully notified.  I knew so well that Mlle. Lucienne’s existence was threatened, I was so fully expecting a new attempt upon her life, that, whenever she went out riding, it was one of my men, wearing a footman’s livery, who took his seat by the side of the coachman.  To-day my man was so busy, that I said to myself, ‘Bash, for once!’  And behold the consequences!”

It was with inexpressible astonishment that Maxence was listening.  It was with a profound stupor that he discovered between Marius and the commissary that serious intimacy which is the result of long intercourse, real esteem, and common hopes.

“It is not an accident, then,” remarked M. de Tregars.

“The coachman has spoken, doubtless?”

“No:  the wretch was killed on the spot.”

And, without waiting for another question,

“But don’t let us stay here,” said the commissary.

“Whilst Maxence runs to the drug-store, let us go into the Fortins’ office.”

The husband was alone there, the wife being at that moment with Mlle. Lucienne.

“Do me the favor to go and take a walk for about fifteen minutes,” said the commissary to him.  “We have to talk, this gentleman and myself.”

Humbly, without a word, and like a man who does himself justice, M. Fortin slipped off.

And at once,—“It is clear, M. le Marquis, it is manifest, that a crime has been committed.  Listen, and judge for yourself.  I was just rising from dinner, when I was notified of what was called our poor Lucienne’s accident.  Without even changing my clothes, I ran.  The carriage was lying in the street, broken to pieces.  Two policemen were holding the horses, which had been stopped.  I inquire.  I learn that Lucienne, picked up by Maxence, has been able to drag herself as far as the Hotel des Folies, and that the driver has been taken to the nearest drug-store.  Furious at my own negligence, and tormented by vague suspicions, it is to the druggist’s that I go first, and in all haste.  The driver was in a backroom, stretched on a mattress.

“His head having struck the angle of the curbstone, his skull was broken; and he had just breathed his last.  It was, apparently, the annihilation of the hope which I had, of enlightening myself by questioning this man.  Nevertheless, I give orders to have him searched.  No paper is discovered upon him to establish his identity; but, in one of the pockets of his pantaloons, do you know what they find?  Two bank-notes of a thousand francs each, carefully wrapped up in a fragment of newspaper.”

M. de Tregars had shuddered.

“What a revelation!” he murmured.

It was not to the present circumstance that he applied that word.  But the commissary naturally mistook him.

“Yes,” he went on, “it was a revelation.  To me these two thousand francs were worth a confession:  they could only be the wages of a crime.  So, without losing a moment, I jump into a cab, and drive to Brion’s.  Everybody was upside down, because the horses had just been brought back.  I question; and, from the very first words, the correctness of my presumption is demonstrated to me.  The wretch who had just died was not one of Brion’s coachmen.  This is what had happened.  At two o’clock, when the carriage ordered by M. Van Klopen was ready to go for Mlle. Lucienne, they had been compelled to send for the driver and the footman, who had forgotten themselves drinking in a neighboring wine-shop, with a man who had called to see them in the morning.  They were slightly under the influence of wine, but not enough so to make it imprudent to trust them with horses; and it was even probable that the fresh air would sober them completely.  They had then started; but, they had not gone very far, for one of their comrades had seen them stop the carriage in front of a wine-shop, and join there the same individual with whom they had been drinking all the morning.”

“And who was no other than the man who was killed?”

“Wait.  Having obtained this information, I get some one to take me to the wine-shop; and I ask for the coachman and the footman from Brion’s.  They were there still; and they are shown to me in a private room, lying on the floor, fast asleep.  I try to wake them up, but in vain.  I order to water them freely; but a pitcher of water thrown on their faces has no effect, save to make them utter an inarticulate groan.  I guess at once what they have taken.  I send for a physician, and I call on the wine-merchant for explanations.  It is his wife and his barkeeper who answer me.  They tell me, that, at about two o’clock, a man came in the shop, who stated that he was employed at Brion’s, and who ordered three glasses for himself and two comrades, whom he was expecting.

“A few moments later, a carriage stops at the door; and the driver and the footman leave it to come in.  They were in a great hurry, they said, and only wished to take one glass.  They do take three, one after another; then they order a bottle.  They were evidently forgetting their horses, which they had given to hold to a commissionaire.  Soon the man proposes a game.  The others accept; and here they are, settled in the back-room, knocking on the table for sealed wine.  The game must have lasted at least twenty minutes.  At the end of that time, the man who had come in first appeared, looking very much annoyed, saying that it was very unpleasant, that his comrades were dead drunk, that they will miss their work, and that the boss, who is anxious to please his customers, will certainly dismiss them.  Although he had taken as much, and more than the rest, he was perfectly steady; and, after reflecting for a moment,—‘I have an idea,’ he says.  ‘Friends should help each other, shouldn’t they?  I am going to take the coachman’s livery, and drive in his stead.  I happen to know the customer they were going after.  She is a very kind old lady, and I’ll tell her a story to explain the absence of the footman.’

“Convinced that the man is in Brion’s employment, they have no objection to offer to this fine project.

“The brigand puts on the livery of the sleeping coachman, gets up on the box, and starts off, after stating that he will return for his comrades as soon as he has got through the job, and that doubtless they will be sober by that time.”

M. de Tregars knew well enough the savoir-faire of the commissary not to be surprised at his promptness in obtaining precise information.

Already he was going on,

“Just as I was closing my examination, the doctor arrived.  I show him my drunkards; and at once he recognizes that I have guessed correctly, and that these men have been put asleep by means of one of those narcotics of which certain thieves make use to rob their victims.  A potion, which he administers to them by forcing their teeth open with a knife, draws them from this lethargy.  They open their eyes, and soon are in condition to reply to my questions.  They are furious at