Fantômas

by Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain

  IX. ALL FOR HONOUR

  Society had mustered in force at the Cahors Law Courts, where theAssizes were about to be held. Hooting motor-cars and antiquated coachesdrawn by pursy horses were arriving every minute, bringing gentry fromthe great houses in the neighbourhood, squireens and well-to-do countrypeople, prosperous farmers and jolly wine-growers, all of themdetermined not to miss "the trial" that was causing such immenseexcitement because the principal figure in it was well known as a friendof one of the oldest families in those parts; and because he was notmerely a witness, nor even the victim, but actually the defendant in thecase, although he had been admitted to bail in the interval by order ofthe court.

  Compared with those of large towns, this court room at Cahors was small,but it was filled by a considerable and most select crowd. Quietgreetings and low-toned conversation were freely exchanged, but therewas an air of melancholy about every person present, and it was obviousthat they were drawn there by no mere curiosity or desire for horriddetails, but by legitimate interest in the development of great drama.

  One of the leading heroines in the case was pointed out with particularsympathy.

  "That's Therese Auvernois, over there in the first row! The President ofthe Court gave her that seat; the officer who took the card of admissionover to Querelles told me so."

  "That's where Mme. de Vibray lives, isn't it?"

  "Yes: she is sitting next to Therese now: that pretty woman in grey.Since Mme. de Langrune's death she has kept the child with her,thinking, very rightly, that it would be too painful for her to be atBeaulieu. The family council have appointed President Bonnet temporaryguardian of Therese. He is that tall, thin man over there, talking tothe steward, Dollon."

  The Baronne de Vibray turned affectionately to Therese, who was lookingdreadfully pale in her long mourning veil.

  "Are you sure this won't tire you too much, dear? Shall we go outsidefor a little while?"

  "Oh, no, please do not worry about me," Therese replied. "Indeed I shallbe all right."

  President Bonnet sat by the two ladies. He had been engaged solemnlyexchanging bows with everyone in the court room whom he considered itflattering to himself to know; now he took part in the conversation, anddisplayed his special knowledge by explaining the constitution of thecourt and pointing out where the clerk sat, and where the publicprosecutor sat, and where the jury sat, all at great length and much tothe interest of the people near him: with, however, one exception; a mandressed entirely in black, with his head half buried in the huge collarof a travelling ulster, and dark glasses over his eyes, appeared to bevastly bored by the old magistrate's disquisition. Juve--for it washe--knew too much about legal procedure to require explanations fromPresident Bonnet.

  Suddenly a thrill ran through the room and conversation stoppedabruptly. M. Etienne Rambert had just walked down the gangway in thecourt to the seat reserved for him, just in front of the witness box andclose to a kind of rostrum in which Maitre Dareuil, an old member of theCahors Bar, immediately took his place. M. Etienne Rambert was verypale, but it was obvious that he was by no means overwhelmed by thefatality overhanging him. He was, indeed, a fine figure as he took hisseat and mechanically passed his hand through his long white curls,flinging them back and raising his head almost as if in defiance of theinquisitive crowd that was gazing at him.

  Almost immediately after he had taken his seat a door was thrown openand the jury filed in, and then a black-gowned usher came forward andshrilly called for silence.

  "Stand up, gentlemen! Hats off, please! Gentlemen, the Court!"

  With solemn, measured steps, and heads bent as if absorbed inprofoundest meditation, the judges slowly proceeded to their seats. Thepresident formally declared the court open, whereupon the clerk roseimmediately to read the indictment.

  The Clerk of the Court at Cahors was a most excellent man, but modestywas his distinguishing characteristic and his chief desire appeared tobe to shun responsibility, figure as little prominently as possible, andeven escape observation altogether. Assizes were not often held atCahors, and he had had few occasions to read an indictment as tragic asthis present one, with the result that he lacked confidence now. He readin a toneless, monotonous voice, so nervously and softly that nobody inthe body of the court could hear a word he said, and even the jury wereobliged to lean their elbows on the desk before them and make an eartrumpet of their hands to find out what it was all about.

  Etienne Rambert, however, was only a few feet from the clerk; he did notmiss a word, and it was evident from his nervous movements every now andthen that some passages in the indictment hit him very hard indeed, andeven lessened his general confidence.

  When the clerk had finished Etienne Rambert sat still, with his foreheadresting in his hands, as if crushed by the weight of the memories theindictment had evoked. Then the sharp, thin voice of the President ofthe Court snapped the chain of his thoughts.

  "Stand up, sir!"

  And pale as death Etienne Rambert rose and folded his arms across hisbreast. In firm, yet somehow muffled tones, he answered the preliminaryformal questions. His name was Herve Paul Etienne Rambert; his age,fifty-nine; his occupation, a merchant, owning and working rubberplantations in South America. Then followed the formal enquiry whetherhe had heard and understood the indictment which had just been read.

  "I followed it all, sir," he replied, with a little gesture expressiveof his sense of the gravity of the facts detailed and the weight of theevidence adduced, which won general sympathy for him. "I followed itall, but I protest against some of the allegations, and I protest withmy whole energy against the suggestion that I have failed in my duty asa man of honour and as a father!"

  The President of the Court checked him irritably.

  "Excuse me, I do not intend to permit you to extend the pleadingsindefinitely. I shall examine you on the various points of theindictment, and you may protest as much as you please." The unfeelingrudeness provoked no comment from the defendant, and the Presidentproceeded. "Well, you have heard the indictment. It charges you firstwith having aided and abetted the escape of your son, whom an enquiryheld in another place had implicated in the murder of the Marquise deLangrune; and it charges you secondly with having killed your son, whosebody has been recovered from the Dordogne, in order that you mightescape the penalty of public obloquy."

  At this brutal statement of the case Etienne Rambert made a proudgesture of indignation.

  "Sir," he exclaimed, "there are different ways of putting things. I donot deny the purport of the indictment, but I object to the summary ofit that you present. No one has ever dared to contend that I killed myson in order to escape public obloquy, as you have just insinuated. I amentirely indifferent to the worlds opinion. What the indictment isintended to allege, the only thing it can allege, is that I wroughtjustice upon a criminal who ought to have filled me with horror butwhom, nevertheless, I ought not to have handed over to the publicexecutioner."

  This time it was the judge's turn to be astonished. He was so accustomedto the cheap triumphs that judges look to win in court that he hadexpected to make mincemeat of this poor, broken old man whom the law haddelivered to his tender mercy. But he discovered that the old man hadfine courage and replied with spirit to his malevolent remarks.

  "We will discuss your right to take the law into your own handspresently," he said, "but that is not the question now: there are otherpoints which it would be well for you to explain to the jury. Why, inthe first place, did you obstinately decline to speak to the examiningmagistrate?"

  "I had no answer to make to the examining magistrate," Etienne Rambertanswered slowly, as if he were weighing his words, "because in myopinion he had no questions to put to me! I do not admit that I amcharged with anything contrary to the Code, or that any such charge canbe formulated against me. The indictment charges me with having killedmy son because I believed him to be guilty of the murder of Mme. deLangrune and would not hand him over to the gallows. I have neverconfessed to that m
urder, sir, and nothing will ever make me do so. Andthat is why I would not reply to the examining magistrate, because Iwould not admit that there was anything before the court concerningmyself: because, since the dreadful tragedy in my private life wasexposed to public opinion, I desired that I should be judged by publicopinion, which, sir, is not represented by you who are a professionaljudge, but by the jury here who will shortly say whether I am really acriminal wretch: by the jury, many of whom are fathers themselves and,when they think of their own sons, will wonder what appalling visionsmust have passed through my mind when I was forced to believe that myboy, my own son, had committed a cowardly murder! What sort of tragedywill they think that must have been for a man like me, with sixty yearsof honour and of honourable life behind him?"

  The outburst ended on a sob, and the whole court was moved withsympathy, women wiping their eyes, men coughing, and even the jurystriving hard to conceal the emotion that stirred them.

  The judge glared round the court, and after a pause addressed thedefendant again with sarcastic phrases.

  "So that is why you stood mute during the enquiry, was it, sir? Odd!very odd! I admire the interpretation you place upon your duty as anhonourable man. It is--quaint!"

  Etienne Rambert interrupted the sneering speech.

  "I am quite sure, sir, that there are plenty of people here who willunderstand and endorse what I did."

  The declaration was so pointedly personal that the judge took it up.

  "And I am quite sure that people of principle will understand me when Ihave shown them your conduct as it really was. You have a predilectionfor heroics; it will not be without interest to bring things to thepoint. Your attitude throughout this affair has been this:--it is notfor me to anticipate the issue of the enquiry which will be held someday into the murder of Mme. de Langrune, but I must recall the fact thatthe moment you believed your son was the murderer, the moment youdiscovered the blood-stained towel which furnished the circumstantialevidence of his guilt, you--the man of honour, mind you,--never thoughtof handing over the culprit to the police who were actually in theprecincts of the chateau, but only thought of securing his escape, andhelping him to get away! You even accompanied him in his flight, and sobecame in a sense his accomplice. I suppose you do not deny that?"

  Etienne Rambert shook with emotion and answered in ringing tones.

  "If you are of opinion, sir, that that was an act of complicity on mypart, I will not only not deny it, I will proclaim it from thehousetops! I became the accomplice of a murderer by inducing him to runaway, did I? You forget, sir, that at the moment when I first believedmy son was the culprit--I was not his accomplice then, I suppose?--therewas a bond between him and me already that I could not possibly break:he was my son! Sir, the duty of a father--and I attach the very loftiestmeaning to the word 'duty'--can never entail his giving up his son!"

  A fresh murmur of sympathy through the court annoyed the judge, whoshrugged his shoulders.

  "Let us leave empty rhetoric alone," he said. "You have plenty of finephrases with which to defend your action; that, indeed, is your concern,as the jury will doubtless appreciate; but I think it will be moreadvantageous to clear up the facts a little--not more advantageous toyou, perhaps, but that is what I am here to do. So will you please tellme whether your son confessed to having murdered Mme. de Langrune,either during that night when you persuaded him to run away, orafterwards? Yes or no, please."

  "I can't answer, sir. My son was mad! I will not believe my son was acriminal! There was absolutely no motive to prompt him to the deed, andhis mother is in an asylum! That is the whole explanation of the crime!If he committed murder, it was in a fit of temporary insanity! He isdead; I refuse to cover his memory with the stain of infamy!"

  "In other words, according to you Charles Rambert did confess, but youdon't want to say so."

  "I do not say he did confess."

  "You leave it to be inferred."

  Etienne Rambert made no reply, and the judge passed on to another point.

  "What exactly did you do after you left the chateau?"

  "What anyone does, I suppose, when he runs away. We wandered miserablyabout, going through fields and woods, I accusing him and he defendinghimself. We avoided the villages, scarcely venturing even in the earlymorning to go and buy food, and walked quickly, wishing to get as faraway as possible. We spent the most frightful time it is possible toconceive."

  "How long was all this?"

  "I was with my son for four days, sir."

  "So it was on the fourth day that you killed him?"

  "Have pity, sir! I did not kill my son. It was a murderer that I hadwith me, a murderer for whom the police were hunting and for whom theguillotine was waiting!"

  "A murderer, if you prefer it so," said the judge, entirely heedless ofthe unhappy man's protests. "But you had no right to assume thefunctions of executioner. Come, you admit you did kill him?"

  "I do not admit it."

  "Do you deny that you killed him?"

  "I did what my duty told me to do!"

  "Still the same story!" said the judge, angrily drumming his fingers onthe desk. "You refuse to answer. But even in your own interests you musthave the courage to adopt some definite theory. Well, would you havebeen glad if your son had taken his own life?"

  "May I entreat you to remember that my son is dead!" Etienne Rambertsaid once more. "I can only remember the one fact that he was my son. Ican't say that I desired his death. I don't even know now if he wasguilty. Whatever horror I may feel for a crime, I can only remember nowthat Charles was not in his right mind, and that he was the son of myloins!"

  Again a tremor of emotion passed through the court, and again the judgemade an angry gesture ordering silence.

  "So you decline to answer any of the principal points of the indictment?The jury will no doubt appreciate the reason. Well, can you let us knowany of the advice you gave your son? If you did not desire him to takehis own life, and if you had no intention of killing him, what did youwant?"

  "Oblivion," said Etienne Rambert, more calmly this time. "It was not forme to give my son up, and I could only desire for him oblivion, and ifthat was impossible, then death. I implored him to think of the lifethat was before him, and the future of shame, and I urged him todisappear for ever."

  "Ah, you admit you did recommend him to commit suicide?"

  "I mean I wanted him to go abroad."

  The president feigned to be occupied with his notes, purposely givingtime for the importance of the last admission he had wrung from EtienneRambert to sink into the minds of the jury. Then, without raising hishead, he asked abruptly:

  "You were very surprised to hear of his death?"

  "No," said Rambert dully.

  "How did you part from each other?"

  "The last night we slept out of doors, under a stack; we were both wornout and heart-sick; I prayed God of His mercy to have pity on us. It wasby the bank of the Dordogne. Next morning when I woke up I was alone.He--my son--had disappeared. I know no more."

  The judge quelled the emotion in the court by a threatening glance, andsprang a question on the defendant which was like a trap to catch himlying.

  "If at that time you knew no more, how was it that a few days later youcalled on Inspector Juve and asked him at once what was known about thedead body of your son? The body had only been recovered within theprevious hour or two, and had not been absolutely identified; thenewspapers, at any rate, only suggested the identity, with the utmostreserve. But you, sir, had no doubt on the subject! You knew that thecorpse was that of your son! Why? How?"

  It was one of the strongest points that could be made in support of thetheory that Etienne Rambert had murdered his son, and the defendantimmediately saw the difficulty he would have in giving an adequateanswer without compromising himself. He turned to the jury, as though hehad more hope in them than in the court.

  "Gentlemen," he cried, "this is torture! I can bear no more! I cannotanswer any mor
e. You know quite enough to form your judgment of me! Formit now! Say if I failed in my duty as a man of honour and a father! I,at least, can answer no more questions!" and he sank back in his placelike a beaten man, crushed by the distress evoked by all these painfulmemories.

  The judge nodded to the jury with the grim complacency of a man who hasrun down his game.

  "This refusal to answer my questions is in itself tantamount to aconfession," he said acidly. "Well, we will proceed to call thewitnesses. I should like to say that the most interesting witness wouldundoubtedly be Bouzille, the tramp who recovered the body of CharlesRambert; but unfortunately that individual has no fixed abode and it hasnot been possible to serve him with a subpoena."

  A number of witnesses succeeded one another in the box, without,however, throwing any fresh light upon the matter; they were peasantswho had met the two Ramberts when they were flying from the chateau,village bakers who had sold them bread, and lockkeepers who had seen,but been unable to recover, the floating corpse. The people in the courtbegan to weary of the proceedings, the more so as it was confidentlyrumoured that Etienne Rambert had proudly declined to call anywitnesses on his behalf, and even to allow his counsel to make anyrhetorical appeal to the jury. It might be imprudent, but there wassomething fine in his defiance.

  There was, however, one more thrill of interest for the public. Thejudge had explained that he deemed it unnecessary to call the detectiveJuve, inasmuch as all the information he had to give was alreadydetailed in the long indictment, but as Mme. de Langrune's granddaughterwas present in court, he would exercise his discretion and request herto answer one or two questions. And, much taken aback by this unexpectedpublicity, Therese Auvernois followed the usher to the witness-box.

  "Mademoiselle Therese Auvernois, I need hardly ask if you recognise M.Rambert: but do you identify him as the person whose conversation withyoung Charles Rambert you overheard on that fatal night at the chateauof Beaulieu?"

  "Yes, sir, that is M. Etienne Rambert," she replied in low tones, andwith a long and tender look of pity at the defendant.

  "Will you please tell us anything you know that has any bearing upon thecharge brought against the defendant, the charge of having killed hisson?"

  Therese made a visible effort to restrain her distress.

  "I can only say one thing, sir: that M. Rambert was talking to his sonin tones of such terrible distress that I knew his heart was broken bythe tragedy. I have heard so much from my dear grandmother about M.Etienne Rambert that I can only remember that she always declared him tobe a man of the very highest principle, and I can only tell him here howdreadfully sorry I am for him, and that everybody pities him as much asI do."

  The judge had expected that Therese would be a witness hostile to thedefendant, whereas anything she was going to say would obviously be muchto his advantage. He cut her short.

  "That is enough, mademoiselle. Thank you," and while Therese was goingback to her seat, wiping away the tears that would come to her eyesdespite her bravest efforts to keep her self-control in the presence ofso many strangers, the judge announced that there were no otherwitnesses to be heard, and called upon the Public Prosecutor to addressthe court.

  That personage rose at once and made a harangue that was eloquentenough, no doubt, but introduced no new features into the case. Herelied upon his law rather than his facts: rapidly recapitulated thedefendant's contradictions and pitifully weak arguments, if argumentsthey could be called: claimed that the facts had been proved despite thedefendant's steady refusal to answer questions: and insisted on thepoint that the defendant had no right whatever to take the law into hisown hands, and either kill his son or aid and abet in his flight. Heconcluded by asking for a verdict of guilty, and a sentence of penalservitude for life.

  To him succeeded counsel for the defendant, whose speech was brevityitself. He declined to make any appeal _ad misericordiam_, but simplyasked the jury to decide whether the defendant had not acted as anyhigh-principled father would act when he discovered that his son hadcommitted a crime during a fit of insanity. He asked only for animpartial decision on the facts, from men of high principle, and he satdown conscious of having focussed the issue on the proper point andsecured the sympathy of the public.

  The judges withdrew to their room, the jury retired to consider theirverdict, and Etienne Rambert was removed between two warders. Juve hadnot stirred during the whole trial, or displayed the least sign ofapproval or disapproval at any of the questions and answers exchanged.He sat now unobtrusively listening to the conversation that passed nearhim, relative to the issue of the case.

  President Bonnet opined that Etienne Rambert had blundered in refusingto put up any defence: he had shown contempt of court, which was alwaysunwise, and the court would show him no mercy. Dollon was of anotheropinion: according to him Etienne Rambert was a sport of fate, deservingpity rather than severity, and the court would be very lenient. Anotherman declared that Etienne Rambert had been in an impasse: however fondlyhe loved his son he could not but hope that he might commit suicide: ifa friend committed an offence against the laws of honour, the only thingto do was to put a pistol into his hand. And so on: the only point onwhich all were unanimous was their sympathy with the defendant.

  But a bell rang sharply; grave and impassive, the jury returned, thejudges filed once more into their seats, Etienne Rambert was led backinto court by the warders. In tense silence the foreman of the juryspoke:

  "In the presence of God and of man, and upon my honour and my conscienceI declare that the answer of the jury is 'no' to all the questions put,and that is the answer of them all."

  It was acquittal!

  There was no applause, but yet it seemed as if the words that set thedefendant free had relieved every bosom of an overwhelming dread; theair seemed easier to breathe; and there was no one there but seemedphysically better and also happier, for hearing a verdict which gavesanction for the general pity they had felt for the unhappy defendant, aman of honour and a most unhappy father!

  By their verdict the jury had implicitly applauded and commiseratedEtienne Rambert; but he still sat in the dock, broken and prostrated byterrible distress, sobbing unreservedly and making no effort to restrainhis immeasurable grief.