The Mystery of Orcival, Émile Gaboriau [fiction novels to read TXT] 📗

him to take something, and so get him tipsy if possible, and then walk about Paris with him till morning.”

Jenny expressed herself with difficulty, hesitating, choosing her words, and trying to remember exactly what Trémorel said.

“And you,” interrupted M. Lecoq, “did you believe all this story about a jealous servant?”

“Not quite; but I fancied that he had some intrigue on foot, and I wasn’t sorry to help him deceive a woman whom I detested, and who had wronged me.”

“So you did as he told you?”

“Exactly, from beginning to end; everything happened just as Hector had foreseen. The man came along at just ten o’clock, took me for a maid, and gave me the package. I naturally offered him a glass of beer; he took it and proposed another, which I also accepted. He is a very nice fellow, this gardener, and I passed a very pleasant evening with him. He knew lots of queer things, and⁠—”

“Never mind that. What did you do then?”

“After the beer we had some wine, then some beer again, then some punch, then some more wine⁠—the gardener had his pockets full of money. He was very tipsy by eleven and invited me to go and have a dance with him at the Batignolles. I refused, and asked him to escort me back to my mistress at the upper end of the Champs-Élysées. We went out of the café and walked up the Rue de Rivoli, stopping every now and then for more wine and beer. By two o’clock the fellow was so far gone that he fell like a lump on a bench near the Arc de Triomphe, where he went to sleep; and there I left him.”

“Well, where did you go?”

“Home.”

“What has become of the package?”

“Oh, I intended to throw it into the Seine, as Hector wished, but I forgot it; you see, I had drunk almost as much as the gardener⁠—so I carried it back home with me, and it is in my room now.”

“Have you opened it?”

“Well⁠—what do you think?”

“What did it contain?”

“A hammer, two other tools and a large knife.”

Guespin’s innocence was now evident, and the detective’s foresight was realized.

“Guespin’s all right,” said M. Plantat. “But we must know⁠—”

M. Lecoq interrupted him; he knew now all he wished. Jenny could tell him nothing more, so he suddenly changed his tone from a wheedling one to abrupt severity.

“My fine young woman,” said he, “you have saved an innocent man, but you must repeat what you have just said to the judge of instruction at Corbeil. And as you might lose yourself on the way, I’ll give you a guide.”

He went to the window and opened it; perceiving Goulard on the sidewalk, he cried out to him:

“Goulard, come up here.”

He turned to the astonished Jenny, who was so frightened that she dared not either question him or get angry, and said:

“Tell me how much Trémorel paid you for the service you rendered him.”

“Ten thousand francs; but it is my due, I swear to you; for he promised it to me long ago, and owed it to me.”

“Very good; it can’t be taken away from you.” He added, pointing out Goulard who entered just then: “Go with this man to your room, take the package which Guespin brought you, and set out at once for Corbeil. Above all, no tricks, Miss⁠—or beware of me!”

Mme. Charman came in just in time to see Jenny leave the room with Goulard.

“Lord, what’s the matter?” she asked M. Lecoq.

“Nothing, my dear Madame, nothing that concerns you in the least. And so, thank you and good evening; we are in a great hurry.”

XXVI

When M. Lecoq was in a hurry he walked fast. He almost ran down the Rue Notre Dame de Lorette, so that Plantat had great difficulty in keeping up with him; and as he went along he pursued his train of reflection, half aloud, so that his companion caught here and there a snatch of it.

“All goes well,” he muttered, “and we shall succeed. It’s seldom that a campaign which commences so well ends badly. If Job is at the wine merchant’s, and if one of my men has succeeded in his search, the crime of Valfeuillu is solved, and in a week people will have forgotten it.”

He stopped short on reaching the foot of the street opposite the church.

“I must ask you to pardon me,” said he to the old justice, “for hurrying you on so and making you one of my trade; but your assistance might have been very useful at Madame Charman’s, and will be indispensable when we get fairly on Trémorel’s track.”

They went across the square and into the wine shop at the corner of the Rue des Martyrs. Its keeper was standing behind his counter turning wine out of a large jug into some litres, and did not seem much astonished at seeing his new visitors. M. Lecoq was quite at home (as he was everywhere), and spoke to the man with an air of easy familiarity.

“Aren’t there six or eight men waiting for somebody here?” he asked.

“Yes, they came about an hour ago.”

“Are they in the big back room?”

“Just so, Monsieur,” responded the wine merchant, obsequiously.

He didn’t exactly know who was talking to him, but he suspected him to be some superior officer from the prefecture; and he was not surprised to see that this distinguished personage knew the ins and outs of his house. He opened the door of the room referred to without hesitation. Ten men in various guises were drinking there and playing cards. On M. Lecoq’s entrance with M. Plantat, they respectfully got up and took off their hats.

“Good for you, Job,” said M. Lecoq to him who seemed to be their chief, “you are prompt, and it pleases me. Your ten men will be quite enough, for I shall have the three besides whom I sent out this morning.”

M. Job bowed, happy at having pleased a master who was not very prodigal in his praises.

“I want you to wait here a while