The Honor of the Name, Emile Gaboriau [books to read now .txt] 📗

poison administered by her own hand. Poor Marie-Anne! she would have been far more terribly avenged had not an accident which happened to me, saved the Duc and the Duchesse de Sairmeuse from the snare into which I had drawn them.

“Jean Lacheneur.”

Lecoq stood as if petrified.

Now he understood the terrible drama which had been enacted in the Widow Chupin’s cabin.

“I must go to Sairmeuse at once,” he said to himself; “there I can discover all.”

He departed without seeing M. d’Escorval. He resisted the temptation to take the letter with him.

It was exactly one month to a day after the death of Mme. Blanche.

Reclining upon a divan in his library the Duc de Sairmeuse was engaged in reading, when Otto, his valet de chambre, came to inform him that a messenger was below, charged with delivering into the duke’s own hands a letter from M. Maurice d’Escorval.

With a bound, Martial was on his feet.

“Is it possible?” he exclaimed.

Then he added, quickly:

“Let the messenger enter.”

A large man, with a very florid complexion, and red hair and beard, timidly handed the duke a letter, he broke the seal, and read:

“I saved you, Monsieur, by not recognizing the prisoner, May. In your turn, aid me! By noon, day after to-morrow, I must have two hundred and sixty thousand francs.

“I have sufficient confidence in your honor to apply to you.

“Maurice d’Escorval.”

For a moment Martial stood bewildered, then, springing to a table, he began writing, without noticing that the messenger was looking over his shoulder:

“Monsieur—Not day after to-morrow, but this evening. My fortune and my life are at your disposal. It is but a slight return for the generosity you showed in retiring, when, beneath the rags of May, you recognized your former enemy, now your devoted friend,

“Martial de Sairmeuse.”

He folded this letter with a feverish hand, and giving it to the messenger with a louis, he said:

“Here is the answer, make haste!”

But the messenger did not go.

He slipped the letter into his pocket, then with a hasty movement he cast his red beard and wig upon the floor.

“Lecoq!” exclaimed Martial, paler than death.

“Lecoq, yes, Monsieur,” replied the young detective. “I was obliged to take my revenge; my future depended upon it, and I ventured to imitate Monsieur d’Escorval’s writing.”

And as Martial made no response:

“I must also say to Monsieur le Duc,” he continued, “that on transmitting to the judge the confession written by the Duke’s own hand, of his presence at the Poivriere, I can and shall, at the same time, furnish proofs of his entire innocence.”

And to show that he was ignorant of nothing, he added:

“As madame is dead, there will be nothing said in regard to what took place at the Borderie.”

A week later a verdict of not guilty was rendered by M. Segmuller in the case of the Duc de Sairmeuse.

Appointed to the position he coveted, Lecoq had the good taste, or perhaps the shrewdness, to wear his honors modestly.

But on the day of his promotion, he ordered a seal, upon which was engraved the exultant rooster, which he had chosen as his armorial design, and a motto to which he ever remained faithful: Semper Vigilan.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Honor of the Name, by Emile Gaboriau