L'affaire Lerouge. English

by Emile Gaboriau

  Produced by David Moynihan; Dagny

  THE LEROUGE CASE

  By Emile Gaboriau

  CHAPTER I.

  On Thursday, the 6th of March, 1862, two days after Shrove Tuesday, fivewomen belonging to the village of La Jonchere presented themselves atthe police station at Bougival.

  They stated that for two days past no one had seen the Widow Lerouge,one of their neighbours, who lived by herself in an isolated cottage.They had several times knocked at the door, but all in vain. Thewindow-shutters as well as the door were closed; and it was impossibleto obtain even a glimpse of the interior.

  This silence, this sudden disappearance alarmed them. Apprehensive ofa crime, or at least of an accident, they requested the interference ofthe police to satisfy their doubts by forcing the door and entering thehouse.

  Bougival is a pleasant riverside village, peopled on Sundays by crowdsof boating parties. Trifling offences are frequently heard of in itsneighbourhood, but crimes are rare.

  The commissary of police at first refused to listen to the women, buttheir importunities so fatigued him that he at length acceded to theirrequest. He sent for the corporal of gendarmes, with two of hismen, called into requisition the services of a locksmith, and, thusaccompanied, followed the neighbours of the Widow Lerouge.

  La Jonchere owes some celebrity to the inventor of the sliding railway,who for some years past has, with more enterprise than profit, madepublic trials of his system in the immediate neighbourhood. It isa hamlet of no importance, resting upon the slope of the hill whichoverlooks the Seine between La Malmaison and Bougival. It is abouttwenty minutes' walk from the main road, which, passing by Rueil andPort-Marly, goes from Paris to St. Germain, and is reached by a steepand rugged lane, quite unknown to the government engineers.

  The party, led by the gendarmes, followed the main road which herebordered the river until it reached this lane, into which it turned, andstumbled over the rugged inequalities of the ground for about a hundredyards, when it arrived in front of a cottage of extremely modest yetrespectable appearance. This cottage had probably been built by somelittle Parisian shopkeeper in love with the beauties of nature; forall the trees had been carefully cut down. It consisted merely of twoapartments on the ground floor with a loft above. Around it extended amuch-neglected garden, badly protected against midnight prowlers, bya very dilapidated stone wall about three feet high, and broken andcrumbling in many places. A light wooden gate, clumsily held in itsplace by pieces of wire, gave access to the garden.

  "It is here," said the women.

  The commissary stopped. During his short walk, the number of hisfollowers had been rapidly increasing, and now included all theinquisitive and idle persons of the neighbourhood. He found himselfsurrounded by about forty individuals burning with curiosity.

  "No one must enter the garden," said he; and, to ensure obedience, heplaced the two gendarmes on sentry before the entrance, and advancedtowards the house, accompanied by the corporal and the locksmith.

  He knocked several times loudly with his leaded cane, first at the door,and then successively at all the window shutters. After each blow, heplaced his ear against the wood and listened. Hearing nothing, he turnedto the locksmith.

  "Open!" said he.

  The workman unstrapped his satchel, and produced his implements. He hadalready introduced a skeleton key into the lock, when a loud exclamationwas heard from the crowd outside the gate.

  "The key!" they cried. "Here is the key!"

  A boy about twelve years old playing with one of his companions, hadseen an enormous key in a ditch by the roadside; he had picked it up andcarried it to the cottage in triumph.

  "Give it to me youngster," said the corporal. "We shall see."

  The key was tried, and it proved to be the key of the house.

  The commissary and the locksmith exchanged glances full of sinistermisgivings. "This looks bad," muttered the corporal. They entered thehouse, while the crowd, restrained with difficulty by the gendarmes,stamped with impatience, or leant over the garden wall, stretching theirnecks eagerly, to see or hear something of what was passing within thecottage.

  Those who anticipated the discovery of a crime, were unhappily notdeceived. The commissary was convinced of this as soon as he crossed thethreshold. Everything in the first room pointed with a sad eloquence tothe recent presence of a malefactor. The furniture was knocked about,and a chest of drawers and two large trunks had been forced and brokenopen.

  In the inner room, which served as a sleeping apartment, the disorderwas even greater. It seemed as though some furious hand had taken afiendish pleasure in upsetting everything. Near the fireplace, her faceburied in the ashes, lay the dead body of Widow Lerouge. All one side ofthe face and the hair were burnt; it seemed a miracle that the fire hadnot caught her clothing.

  "Wretches!" exclaimed the corporal. "Could they not have robbed, withoutassassinating the poor woman?"

  "But where has she been wounded?" inquired the commissary, "I do not seeany blood."

  "Look! here between the shoulders," replied the corporal; "two fierceblows, by my faith. I'll wager my stripes she had no time to cry out."

  He stooped over the corpse and touched it.

  "She is quite cold," he continued, "and it seems to me that she is nolonger very stiff. It is at least thirty-six hours since she receivedher death-blow."

  The commissary began writing, on the corner of a table, a short officialreport.

  "We are not here to talk, but to discover the guilty," said he to thecorporal. "Let information be at once conveyed to the justice of thepeace, and the mayor, and send this letter without delay to the Palaisde Justice. In a couple of hours, an investigating magistrate can behere. In the meanwhile, I will proceed to make a preliminary inquiry."

  "Shall I carry the letter?" asked the corporal of gendarmes.

  "No, send one of your men; you will be useful to me here in keepingthese people in order, and in finding any witnesses I may want. Wemust leave everything here as it is. I will install myself in the otherroom."

  A gendarme departed at a run towards the station at Rueil; and thecommissary commenced his investigations in regular form, as prescribedby law.

  "Who was Widow Lerouge? Where did she come from? What did she do? Uponwhat means, and how did she live? What were her habits, her morals, andwhat sort of company did she keep? Was she known to have enemies? Wasshe a miser? Did she pass for being rich?"

  The commissary knew the importance of ascertaining all this: butalthough the witnesses were numerous enough, they possessed butlittle information. The depositions of the neighbours, successivelyinterrogated, were empty, incoherent, and incomplete. No one knewanything of the victim, who was a stranger in the country. Manypresented themselves as witnesses moreover, who came forward less toafford information than to gratify their curiosity. A gardener's wife,who had been friendly with the deceased, and a milk-woman with whomshe dealt, were alone able to give a few insignificant though precisedetails.

  In a word, after three hours of laborious investigation, after havingundergone the infliction of all the gossip of the country, afterreceiving evidence the most contradictory, and listened to commentariesthe most ridiculous, the following is what appeared the most reliable tothe commissary.

  Twelve years before, at the beginning of 1850, the woman Lerouge hadmade her appearance at Bougival with a large wagon piled with furniture,linen, and her personal effects. She had alighted at an inn, declaringher intention of settling in the neighbourhood, and had immediately gonein quest of a house. Finding this one unoccupied, and thinking it wouldsuit her, she had taken it without trying to beat down the terms, ata rental of three hundred and twenty francs payable half yearly
and inadvance, but had refused to sign a lease.

  The house taken, she occupied it the same day, and expended about ahundred francs on repairs.

  She was a woman about fifty-four or fifty-five years of age, wellpreserved, active, and in the enjoyment of excellent health. No oneknew her reasons for taking up her abode in a country where she was anabsolute stranger. She was supposed to have come from Normandy, havingbeen frequently seen in the early morning to wear a white cotton cap.This night-cap did not prevent her dressing very smartly during the day;indeed, she ordinarily wore very handsome dresses, very showy ribbonsin her caps, and covered herself with jewels like a saint in a chapel.Without doubt she had lived on the coast, for ships and the sea recurredincessantly in her conversation.

  She did not like speaking of her husband who had, she said, perishedin a shipwreck. But she had never given the slightest detail. On oneparticular occasion she had remarked, in presence of the milk-woman andthree other persons, "No woman was ever more miserable than I during mymarried life." And at another she had said, "All new, all fine! A newbroom sweeps clean. My defunct husband only loved me for a year!"

  Widow Lerouge passed for rich, or at the least for being very well offand she was not a miser. She had lent a woman at La Malmaison sixtyfrancs with which to pay her rent, and would not let her return them.At another time she had advanced two hundred francs to a fisherman ofPort-Marly. She was fond of good living, spent a good deal on her food,and bought wine by the half cask. She took pleasure in treating heracquaintances, and her dinners were excellent. If complimented on hereasy circumstances, she made no very strong denial. She had frequentlybeen heard to say, "I have nothing in the funds, but I have everything Iwant. If I wished for more, I could have it."

  Beyond this, the slightest allusion to her past life, her country, orher family had never escaped her. She was very talkative, but all shewould say would be to the detriment of her neighbours. She was supposed,however, to have seen the world, and to know a great deal. She was verydistrustful and barricaded herself in her cottage as in a fortress. Shenever went out in the evening, and it was well known that she got tipsyregularly at her dinner and went to bed very soon afterwards. Rarely hadstrangers been seen to visit her; four or five times a lady accompaniedby a young man had called, and upon one occasion two gentlemen, oneyoung, the other old and decorated, had come in a magnificent carriage.

  In conclusion, the deceased was held in but little esteem by herneighbours. Her remarks were often most offensive and odious in themouth of a woman of her age. She had been heard to give a young girlthe most detestable counsels. A pork butcher, belonging to Bougival,embarrassed in his business, and tempted by her supposed wealth, had atone time paid her his addresses. She, however, repelled his advances,declaring that to be married once was enough for her. On severaloccasions men had been seen in her house; first of all, a young one, whohad the appearance of a clerk of the railway company; then another,a tall, elderly man, very sunburnt, who was dressed in a blouse, andlooked very villainous. These men were reported to be her lovers.

  Whilst questioning the witnesses, the commissary wrote down theirdepositions in a more condensed form, and he had got so far, when theinvestigating magistrate arrived, attended by the chief of the detectivepolice, and one of his subordinates.

  M. Daburon was a man thirty-eight years of age, and of prepossessingappearance; sympathetic notwithstanding his coldness; wearing upon hiscountenance a sweet, and rather sad expression. This settled melancholyhad remained with him ever since his recovery, two years before, from adreadful malady, which had well-nigh proved fatal.

  Investigating magistrate since 1859, he had rapidly acquired the mostbrilliant reputation. Laborious, patient, and acute, he knew withsingular skill how to disentangle the skein of the most complicatedaffair, and from the midst of a thousand threads lay hold to the rightone. None better than he, armed with an implacable logic, couldsolve those terrible problems in which X--in algebra, the unknownquantity--represents the criminal. Clever in deducing the unknown fromthe known, he excelled in collecting facts, and in uniting in abundle of overwhelming proofs circumstances the most trifling, and inappearance the most insignificant.

  Although possessed of qualifications for his office so numerous andvaluable, he was tremblingly distrustful of his own abilities andexercised his terrible functions with diffidence and hesitation. Hewanted audacity to risk those sudden surprises so often resorted to byhis colleagues in the pursuit of truth.

  Thus it was repugnant to his feelings to deceive even an accused person,or to lay snares for him; in fact the mere idea of the possibility of ajudicial error terrified him. They said of him in the courts, "He isa trembler." What he sought was not conviction, nor the most probablepresumptions, but the most absolute certainty. No rest for him until theday when the accused was forced to bow before the evidence; so muchso that he had been jestingly reproached with seeking not to discovercriminals but innocents.

  The chief of detective police was none other than the celebrated Gevrol.He is really an able man, but wanting in perseverance, and liable to beblinded by an incredible obstinacy. If he loses a clue, he cannot bringhimself to acknowledge it, still less to retrace his steps. His audacityand coolness, however, render it impossible to disconcert him; andbeing possessed of immense personal strength, hidden under a mostmeagre appearance, he has never hesitated to confront the most daring ofmalefactors.

  But his specialty, his triumph, his glory, is a memory of faces, soprodigious as to exceed belief. Let him see a face for five minutes, andit is enough. Its possessor is catalogued, and will be recognised at anytime. The impossibilities of place, the unlikelihood of circumstances,the most incredible disguises will not lead him astray. The reason forthis, so he pretends, is because he only looks at a man's eyes, withoutnoticing any other features.

  This faculty was severely tested some months back at Poissy, by thefollowing experiment. Three prisoners were draped in coverings so asto completely disguise their height. Over their faces were thick veils,allowing nothing of the features to be seen except the eyes, for whichholes had been made; and in this state they were shown to Gevrol.

  Without the slightest hesitation he recognised the prisoners and namedthem. Had chance alone assisted him?

  The subordinate Gevrol had brought with him, was an old offender,reconciled to the law. A smart fellow in his profession, crafty asa fox, and jealous of his chief, whose abilities he held in lightestimation. His name was Lecoq.

  The commissary, by this time heartily tired of his responsibilities,welcomed the investigating magistrate and his agents as liberators. Herapidly related the facts collected and read his official report.

  "You have proceeded very well," observed the investigating magistrate."All is stated clearly; yet there is one fact you have omitted toascertain."

  "What is that, sir?" inquired the commissary.

  "On what day was Widow Lerouge last seen, and at what hour?"

  "I was coming to that presently. She was last seen and spoken to on theevening of Shrove Tuesday, at twenty minutes past five. She was thenreturning from Bougival with a basketful of purchases."

  "You are sure of the hour, sir?" inquired Gevrol.

  "Perfectly, and for this reason; the two witnesses who furnished mewith this fact, a woman named Tellier and a cooper who lives hard by,alighted from the omnibus which leaves Marly every hour, when theyperceived the widow in the cross-road, and hastened to overtake her.They conversed with her and only left her when they reached the door ofher own house."

  "And what had she in her basket?" asked the investigating magistrate.

  "The witnesses cannot say. They only know that she carried two sealedbottles of wine, and another of brandy. She complained to them ofheadache, and said, 'Though it is customary to enjoy oneself on ShroveTuesday, I am going to bed.'"

  "So, so!" exclaimed the chief of detective police. "I know where tosearch!"

  "You think so?" inquired M. Daburon.

 
; "Why, it is clear enough. We must find the tall sunburnt man, thegallant in the blouse. The brandy and the wine were intended for hisentertainment. The widow expected him to supper. He came, sure enough,the amiable gallant!"

  "Oh!" cried the corporal of gendarmes, evidently scandalised, "she wasvery old, and terribly ugly!"

  Gevrol surveyed the honest fellow with an expression of contemptuouspity. "Know, corporal," said he, "that a woman who has money is alwaysyoung and pretty, if she desires to be thought so!"

  "Perhaps there is something in that," remarked the magistrate; "but itis not what strikes me most. I am more impressed by the remark of thisunfortunate woman. 'If I wished for more, I could have it.'"

  "That also attracted my attention," acquiesced the commissary.

  But Gevrol no longer took the trouble to listen. He stuck to hisown opinion, and began to inspect minutely every corner of the room.Suddenly he turned towards the commissary. "Now that I think of it,"cried he, "was it not on Tuesday that the weather changed? It had beenfreezing for a fortnight past, and on that evening it rained. At whattime did the rain commence here?"

  "At half-past nine," answered the corporal. "I went out from supper tomake my circuit of the dancing halls, when I was overtaken opposite theRue des Pecheurs by a heavy shower. In less than ten minutes there washalf an inch of water in the road."

  "Very well," said Gevrol. "Then if the man came after half-past nine hisshoes must have been very muddy. If they were dry, he arrived sooner.This must have been noticed, for the floor is a polished one. Were thereany imprints of footsteps, M. Commissary?"

  "I must confess we never thought of looking for them."

  "Ah!" exclaimed the chief detective, in a tone of irritation, "that isvexatious!"

  "Wait," added the commissary; "there is yet time to see if there areany, not in this room, but in the other. We have disturbed absolutelynothing there. My footsteps and the corporal's will be easilydistinguished. Let us see."

  As the commissary opened the door of the second chamber, Gevrol stoppedhim. "I ask permission, sir," said he to the investigating magistrate,"to examine the apartment before any one else is permitted to enter. Itis very important for me."

  "Certainly," approved M. Daburon.

  Gevrol passed in first, the others remaining on the threshold. Theyall took in at a glance the scene of the crime. Everything, as thecommissary had stated, seemed to have been overturned by some furiousmadman. In the middle of the room was a table covered with a fine linencloth, white as snow. Upon this was placed a magnificent wineglass ofthe rarest manufacture, a very handsome knife, and a plate of the finestporcelain. There was an opened bottle of wine, hardly touched, andanother of brandy, from which about five or six small glassfuls had beentaken.

  On the right, against the wall, stood two handsome walnut-woodwardrobes, with ornamental locks; they were placed one on each side ofthe window; both were empty, and the contents scattered about on allsides. There were clothing, linen, and other effects unfolded, tossedabout, and crumpled. At the end of the room, near the fireplace, a largecupboard used for keeping the crockery was wide open. On the other sideof the fireplace, an old secretary with a marble top had been forced,broken, smashed into bits, and rummaged, no doubt, to its inmostrecesses. The desk, wrenched away, hung by a single hinge. The drawershad been pulled out and thrown upon the floor.

  To the left of the room stood the bed, which had been completelydisarranged and upset. Even the straw of the mattress had been pulledout and examined.

  "Not the slightest imprint," murmured Gevrol disappointed. "He must havearrived before half-past nine. You can all come in now."

  He walked right up to the corpse of the widow, near which he knelt.

  "It can not be said," grumbled he, "that the work is not properly done!the assassin is no apprentice!"

  Then looking right and left, he continued: "Oh! oh! the poor devil wasbusy with her cooking when he struck her; see her pan of ham and eggsupon the hearth. The brute hadn't patience enough to wait for thedinner. The gentleman was in a hurry, he struck the blow fasting;therefore he can't invoke the gayety of dessert in his defense!"

  "It is evident," said the commissary to the investigating magistrate,"that robbery was the motive of the crime."

  "It is probable," answered Gevrol in a sly way; "and that accounts forthe absence of the silver spoons from the table."

  "Look here! Some pieces of gold in this drawer!" exclaimed Lecoq, whohad been searching on his own account, "just three hundred and twentyfrancs!"

  "Well, I never!" cried Gevrol, a little disconcerted. But he soonrecovered from his embarrassment, and added: "He must have forgottenthem; that often happens. I have known an assassin, who, afteraccomplishing the murder, became so utterly bewildered as to departwithout remembering to take the plunder, for which he had committed thecrime. Our man became excited perhaps, or was interrupted. Some one mayhave knocked at the door. What makes me more willing to think so is,that the scamp did not leave the candle burning. You see he took thetrouble to put it out."

  "Pooh!" said Lecoq. "That proves nothing. He is probably an economicaland careful man."

  The investigations of the two agents were continued all over the house;but their most minute researches resulted in discovering absolutelynothing; not one piece of evidence to convict; not the faintestindication which might serve as a point of departure. Even the deadwoman's papers, if she possessed any, had disappeared. Not a letter, nota scrap of paper even, to be met with. From time to time Gevrol stoppedto swear or grumble. "Oh! it is cleverly done! It is a tiptop piece ofwork! The scoundrel is a cool hand!"

  "Well, what do you make of it?" at length demanded the investigatingmagistrate.

  "It is a drawn game monsieur," replied Gevrol. "We are baffled for thepresent. The miscreant has taken his measures with great precaution;but I will catch him. Before night, I shall have a dozen men in pursuit.Besides, he is sure to fall into our hands. He has carried off the plateand the jewels. He is lost!"

  "Despite all that," said M. Daburon, "we are no further advanced than wewere this morning!"

  "Well!" growled Gevrol. "A man can only do what he can!"

  "Ah!" murmured Lecoq in a low tone, perfectly audible, however, "why isnot old Tirauclair here?"

  "What could he do more than we have done?" retorted Gevrol, directing afurious glance at his subordinate. Lecoq bowed his head and was silent,inwardly delighted at having wounded his chief.

  "Who is old Tirauclair?" asked M. Daburon. "It seems to me that I haveheard the name, but I can't remember where."

  "He is an extraordinary man!" exclaimed Lecoq. "He was formerly a clerkat the Mont de Piete," added Gevrol; "but he is now a rich old fellow,whose real name is Tabaret. He goes in for playing the detective by wayof amusement."

  "And to augment his revenues," insinuated the commissary.

  "He?" cried Lecoq. "No danger of that. He works so much for the gloryof success that he often spends money from his own pocket. It'shis amusement, you see! At the Prefecture we have nicknamed him'Tirauclair,' from a phrase he is constantly in the habit of repeating.Ah! he is sharp, the old weasel! It was he who in the case of thatbanker's wife, you remember, guessed that the lady had robbed herself,and who proved it."

  "True!" retorted Gevrol; "and it was also he who almost had poor Deremeguillotined for killing his wife, a thorough bad woman; and all thewhile the poor man was innocent."

  "We are wasting our time, gentlemen," interrupted M. Daburon. Then,addressing himself to Lecoq, he added:--"Go and find M. Tabaret. I haveheard a great deal of him, and shall be glad to see him at work here."

  Lecoq started off at a run, Gevrol was seriously humiliated. "You haveof course, sir, the right to demand the services of whom you please,"commenced he, "but yet--"

  "Do not," interrupted M. Daburon, "let us lose our tempers, M. Gevrol.I have known you for a long time, and I know your worth; but to-day wehappen to differ in opinion. You hold absolutely to your sunburnt manin the
blouse, and I, on my side, am convinced that you are not on theright track!"

  "I think I am right," replied the detective, "and I hope to prove it. Ishall find the scoundrel, be he whom he may!"

  "I ask nothing better," said M. Daburon.

  "Only, permit me, sir, to give--what shall I say without failing inrespect?--a piece of advice?"

  "Speak!"

  "I would advise you, sir, to distrust old Tabaret."

  "Really? And for what reason?"

  "The old fellow allows himself to be carried away too much byappearances. He has become an amateur detective for the sake ofpopularity, just like an author; and, as he is vainer than a peacock,he is apt to lose his temper and be very obstinate. As soon as he findshimself in the presence of a crime, like this one, for example, hepretends he can explain everything on the instant. And he manages toinvent a story that will correspond exactly with the situation. Heprofesses, with the help of one single fact, to be able to reconstructall the details of an assassination, as a savant pictures anantediluvian animal from a single bone. Sometimes he divines correctly;very often, though, he makes a mistake. Take, for instance, the case ofthe tailor, the unfortunate Dereme, without me--"

  "I thank you for your advice," interrupted M. Daburon, "and will profitby it. Now commissary," he continued, "it is most important to ascertainfrom what part of the country Widow Lerouge came."

  The procession of witnesses under the charge of the corporal ofgendarmes were again interrogated by the investigating magistrate.

  But nothing new was elicited. It was evident that Widow Lerouge had beena singularly discreet woman; for, although very talkative, nothing inany way connected with her antecedents remained in the memory of thegossips of La Jonchere.

  All the people interrogated, however, obstinately tried to impart tothe magistrate their own convictions and personal conjectures. Publicopinion sided with Gevrol. Every voice denounced the tall sunburnt manwith the gray blouse. He must surely be the culprit. Everyone rememberedhis ferocious aspect, which had frightened the whole neighbourhood. Hehad one evening menaced a woman, and another day beaten a child. Theycould point out neither the child nor the woman; but no matter: thesebrutal acts were notoriously public. M. Daburon began to despair ofgaining the least enlightenment, when some one brought the wife of agrocer of Bougival, at whose shop the victim used to deal, and a childthirteen years old, who knew, it was said, something positive.

  The grocer's wife first made her appearance. She had heard Widow Lerougespeak of having a son still living.

  "Are you quite sure of that?" asked the investigating magistrate.

  "As of my existence," answered the woman, "for, on that evening, yes, itwas evening, she was, saving your presence, a little tipsy. She remainedin my shop more than an hour."

  "And what did she say?"

  "I think I see her now," continued the shopkeeper: "she was leaningagainst the counter near the scales, jesting with a fisherman of Marly,old Husson, who can tell you the same; and she called him a fresh watersailor. 'My husband,' said she, 'was a real sailor, and the proof is,he would sometimes remain years on a voyage, and always used to bring meback cocoanuts. I have a son who is also a sailor, like his dead father,in the imperial navy.'"

  "Did she mention her son's name?"

  "Not that time, but another evening, when she was, if I may say so, verydrunk. She told us that her son's name was Jacques, and that she had notseen him for a very long time."

  "Did she speak ill of her husband?"

  "Never! She only said he was jealous and brutal, though a good man atbottom, and that he led her a miserable life. He was weak-headed, andforged ideas out of nothing at all. In fact he was too honest to bewise."

  "Did her son ever come to see her while she lived here?"

  "She never told me of it."

  "Did she spend much money with you?"

  "That depends. About sixty francs a month; sometimes more, for shealways buys the best brandy. She paid cash for all she bought."

  The woman knowing no more was dismissed. The child, who was now broughtforward, belonged to parents in easy circumstances. Tall and strongfor his age, he had bright intelligent eyes, and features expressive ofwatchfulness and cunning. The presence of the magistrate did not seem tointimidate him in the least.

  "Let us hear, my boy," said M. Daburon, "what you know."

  "Well, sir, a few days ago, on Sunday last, I saw a man at MadameLerouge's garden-gate."

  "At what time of the day?"

  "Early in the morning. I was going to church, to serve in the secondmass."

  "Well," continued the magistrate, "and this man was tall and sunburnt,and dressed in a blouse?"

  "No, sir, on the contrary, he was short, very fat, and old."

  "You are sure you are not mistaken?"

  "Quite sure," replied the urchin, "I saw him close face to face, for Ispoke to him."

  "Tell me, then, what occurred?"

  "Well, sir, I was passing when I saw this fat man at the gate. Heappeared very much vexed, oh! but awfully vexed! His face was red, orrather purple, as far as the middle of his head, which I could see verywell, for it was bare, and had very little hair on it."

  "And did he speak to you first?"

  "Yes, sir, he saw me, and called out, 'Halloa! youngster!' as I cameup to him, and he asked me if I had got a good pair of legs? I answeredyes. Then he took me by the ear, but without hurting me, and said,'Since that is so, if you will run an errand for me, I will give youten sous. Run as far as the Seine; and when you reach the quay, you willnotice a large boat moored. Go on board, and ask to see Captain Gervais:he is sure to be there. Tell him that he can prepare to leave, that I amready.' Then he put ten sous in my hand; and off I went."

  "If all the witnesses were like this bright little fellow," murmured thecommissary, "what a pleasure it would be!"

  "Now," said the magistrate, "tell us how you executed your commission?"

  "I went to the boat, sir, found the man, and I told him; and that'sall."

  Gevrol, who had listened with the most lively attention, leaned overtowards the ear of M. Daburon, and said in a low voice: "Will you permitme, sir, to ask the brat a few questions?"

  "Certainly, M. Gevrol."

  "Come now, my little friend," said Gevrol, "if you saw this man again,would you know him?"

  "Oh, yes!"

  "Then there was something remarkable about him?"

  "Yes, I should think so! his face was the colour of a brick!"

  "And is that all?"

  "Well, yes, sir."

  "But you must remember how he was dressed; had he a blouse on?"

  "No; he wore a jacket. Under the arms were very large pockets, and fromout of one of them peeped a blue spotted handkerchief."

  "What kind of trousers had he on?"

  "I do not remember."

  "And his waistcoat?"

  "Let me see," answered the child. "I don't think he wore a waistcoat.And yet,--but no, I remember he did not wear one; he had a long cravat,fastened near his neck by a large ring."

  "Ah!" said Gevrol, with an air of satisfaction, "you are a bright boy;and I wager that if you try hard to remember you will find a few moredetails to give us."

  The boy hung down his head, and remained silent. From the knitting ofhis young brows, it was plain he was making a violent effort of memory."Yes," cried he suddenly, "I remember another thing."

  "What?"

  "The man wore very large rings in his ears."

  "Bravo!" cried Gevrol, "here is a complete description. I shall find thefellow now. M. Daburon can prepare a warrant for his appearance wheneverhe likes."

  "I believe, indeed, the testimony of this child is of the highestimportance," said M. Daburon; and turning to the boy added, "Can youtell us, my little friend, with what this boat was loaded?"

  "No, sir, I couldn't see because it was decked."

  "Which way was she going, up the Seine or down?"

  "Neither, sir, she was
moored."

  "We know that," said Gevrol. "The magistrate asks you which way the prowof the boat was turned,--towards Paris or towards Marly?"

  "The two ends of the boat seemed alike to me."

  The chief of the detective of police made a gesture of disappointment.

  "At least," said he, addressing the child again, "you noticed the nameof the boat? you can read I suppose. One should always know the names ofthe boats one goes aboard of."

  "No, I didn't see any name," said the little boy.

  "If this boat was moored at the quay," remarked M. Daburon, "it wasprobably noticed by the inhabitants of Bougival."

  "That is true, sir," approved the commissary.

  "Yes," said Gevrol, "and the sailors must have come ashore. I shall findout all about it at the wine shop. But what sort of a man was Gervais,the master, my little friend?"

  "Like all the sailors hereabouts, sir."

  The child was preparing to depart when M. Daburon recalled him.

  "Before you go, my boy, tell me, have you spoken to any one of thismeeting before to-day?"

  "Yes, sir, I told all to mamma when I got back from church, and gave herthe ten sous."

  "And you have told us the whole truth?" continued the magistrate. "Youknow that it is a very grave matter to attempt to impose on justice. Shealways finds it out, and it is my duty to warn you that she inflicts themost terrible punishment upon liars."

  The little fellow blushed as red as a cherry, and held down his head.

  "I see," pursued M. Daburon, "that you have concealed something from us.Don't you know that the police know everything?"

  "Pardon! sir," cried the boy, bursting into tears,--"pardon. Don'tpunish me, and I will never do so again."

  "Tell us, then, how you have deceived us?"

  "Well, sir, it was not ten sous that the man gave me, it was twentysous. I only gave half to mamma; and I kept the rest to buy marbleswith."

  "My little friend," said the investigating magistrate, "for this time Iforgive you. But let it be a lesson for the remainder of your life. Youmay go now, and remember it is useless to try and hide the truth; italways comes to light!"