Le billet rouge. English

by Fortuné Du Boisgobey

  IX.

  While his friend was trying to save him, Adhemar de Puymirol was in acell at the prefecture depot. It was the third day of his imprisonment,and he was pacing, savagely, up and down, like a captive lion in hiscage, when suddenly he heard a jailer unbolt the door, and for a momenthe deluded himself with the belief that the moment of his release hadarrived. All prisoners are subject to these fits of hopefulness.However, this one was of short duration.

  "I am ordered to conduct you to the magistrate's office," announced thejailer.

  "What for?" replied Puymirol, "I won't answer his questions, so it isnot worth while disturbing me."

  "It will be the last time. You came here on the 26th. To-day's the 29th,and no one stays here more than three days."

  This reply calmed Puymirol. It did not seem to him at all improbablethat his case would end favourably, at all events, he would soon knowhis fate, so he silently followed the warder through the corridors, andup the staircase to M. Robergeot's office. Charles Balmer's friend wasstill in the prime of life, and had a prepossessing face. He motionedPuymirol to a chair, and the prisoner, as he sat down, curtly exclaimed:"I hope you will put an end to all this, sir."

  "It is with that intention that I sent for you," replied the magistrate,"though I might have spared myself the trouble, as you have so farrefused to furnish any of the information asked of you; still, I felt itmy duty to give you one more chance to tell the truth."

  "I have told you all I am going to tell you."

  "You have told me nothing. You have even tried to retract the testimonyyou gave to the commissary of police at the Palais de l'Industrie. Youhave adopted a most deplorable course. I say nothing about the fact thatyou presented a lottery ticket that did not belong to you. That is atrifling offence in comparison with the crime of murder, followed byrobbery, with which you are charged. It is true I am perfectly satisfiedthat you did not fire the bullet that killed Dargental, for I admit thatan _alibi_ has been conclusively established, but this does not provethat you don't know the murderer, and that the crime was not committedin your interest, or in the interest of some person connected withyou."

  "How can you expect me to prove the injustice of your suspicions? I waswell acquainted with Dargental, it is true, but though he may have hadenemies, I know nothing about them."

  "Well, let me refresh your memory on another point of the case. We havesucceeded in finding the cabman who took you to the Lion d'Or, and histestimony proves that you were not alone in his cab in which you claimto have found the lottery tickets. Why did you tell the commissary thecontrary?"

  "You would have done the same, had you been in my place. I do not wishto subject an innocent person to the same annoyance and discomfort asmyself."

  "But this person's testimony might be of great service to you. Besides,we shall soon ascertain who your companion was. The cabman alreadydeclares that on the day of the murder, and between the hours ofhalf-past eleven and half-past twelve o'clock, he drove two younggentlemen from the Rue de Medicis to the Lion d'Or, and that he had noother fares that morning. He also declares that before leaving thestable that day he had carefully examined the interior of his vehicle,and had not found in it any papers left there by any former passenger.He also declares that nothing extraordinary occurred during the drivereferred to."

  "We are revolving in the same circle, it seems to me," interruptedPuymirol, "and if you have nothing fresh to tell me--"

  "This cabman also declares that a few days after the crime a man who hadtaken the number of his vehicle came to his residence, which he hadascertained at the company's office, and after giving him twenty francs,questioned him at length about this drive on the 9th of April. Thecabman could only tell him what he just told me, viz., that his twopassengers alighted at the Lion d'Or in the Rue du Helder. Now, can youtell me why this person inquired after you?"

  "No, I can't. Look him up yourself, and ask him the question."

  "We _are_ looking for him, but though we have not yet succeeded infinding him, I know what he did after his interview with the cabman. Ihave questioned the employes of the restaurant, among them thedoor-porter, who tells me that this same man offered him a liberalreward if he would point out either of the two young fellows whobreakfasted there in a private room on the morning of April 9th. Theporter, who did not know your name, though he knew you very well bysight, promised to do what this person asked, and the latter waited fornearly three weeks, watching for you. You did not show yourself,however, until quite recently; in fact, not until the day previous toyour arrest. Then this stranger followed you into the restaurant, andhad a long conversation with you, after which you both left therestaurant, though not together. Still, the porter noticed that youfollowed this stranger up the Boulevard Haussmann. Now, what have you tosay to this story? Do you admit that it is true?"

  "By no means, but even if I did, what conclusions would you draw fromsuch an admission on my part?" asked Puymirol.

  "That this man was your accomplice; that he was the murderer ofDargental, and that he was trying to communicate with you in referenceto a crime which he had committed at your instigation."

  "You are going too far, it seems to me. You forget that if this personhad acted by my orders he would necessarily have known who I was, andwhere I lived, and would not have applied to the doorkeeper of arestaurant for information about me."

  "You doubtless had your reasons for concealing your name and address.When a man hires a scoundrel to commit a murder, he is usually anxiousto keep his identity secret. However, there is a very easy way for youto prove that I am mistaken. That is, to tell me what this man wanted ofyou, what he said to you at the Lion d'Or, and where you went with himafter dinner." This argument was irrefutable, and Puymirol realised it.

  "In short," continued the magistrate, "if you will only tell the truth,I can almost promise that you would escape indictment."

  Puymirol's eyes flashed. He espied liberty before him--the effacement ofhis fault, a bright future; but his face suddenly clouded, his featurescontracted, and he said, with a scornful gesture: "Bah! your clemencycould not restore me what I have lost. A man who has spent three days inprison is dishonoured for life. Besides, I haven't a penny, and the onlyfuture in store for me is starvation."

  "I can prove to you that you have nothing of the kind to fear. You comefrom Perigord, don't you, and your relatives reside there?"

  "My only remaining relative is an aunt who allows me two thousand francsa year; my father left me nothing but debts."

  "Which were long since paid by your aunt, Madame Besseges, who residesat Montpazier, in the department of the Dordogne."

  "How do you know that?"

  "I have naturally made inquiries about you, and have learned that youbelong to an old and highly respected family."

  "Oh! We have been ruined for centuries."

  "Your aunt made a wealthy marriage, however, and she inherited all herhusband's property."

  "Yes, but I sha'n't inherit her fortune."

  "You have done so already. She died three days ago, after appointing youher sole legatee; and you consequently possess an income of eightythousand francs. Oh! don't think I am jesting! Since your arrest, allletters addressed to you have been seized at the post-office. This wasdone by my orders. I hoped that in your correspondence I might find someclue to this mystery, but I was disappointed in that respect. Thismorning, however, there came a letter from a notary at Montpazier,announcing your aunt's sudden death, and inclosing a certified copy ofher will. The document will be given to you as soon as you are set atliberty."

  "Then you intend to set me at liberty?"

  "That depends entirely upon yourself. The affair of the lottery ticket,and that of the murder, are closely connected, though one is of great,and the other of trifling importance. If you persist in remainingsilent, I shall be compelled to believe that you are the culprit, inboth cases, for you would not refuse to explain matters if you weremerely guilty of a trifling misdemeanour. If you are inn
ocent of thecapital charge, you have only to tell me the truth about the finding ofthe lottery tickets, and I will release you." Puymirol, deeply moved,evidently hesitated. "Pray, recollect," continued the magistrate, "thatI shall eventually succeed in solving the mystery without yourassistance, so spare me the pain of sending you to Mazas. You are nowrich, and public feeling is always very lenient towards the wealthy.Your mishap will soon be forgotten, and your life will become a pleasantone. But, perhaps, you prefer the Assizes? Choose."

  Puymirol's choice was already made. Whilst poor, he had been reticent tothe verge of heroism. He had not thought it worth his while to purchasefreedom by a confession, merely to drag out a miserable existence. Hepreferred to take his chances of conviction, and profit by his silenceafterwards, for he felt sure that the Countess de Lescombat would notfail to reward him eventually. However, he now viewed his situationunder an entirely different light. To re-enter the gay world of Paris,which so quickly forgets misdemeanours; to begin life again with plentyof money, that made it well worth his while to yield to the magistrate'sentreaties. Besides, as he was well aware, this magistrate alreadysuspected the truth, which truth was likely to come to light at anymoment. He had only to question George Caumont, and the latter wouldprobably tell all he knew, reticent as he had been at first. Puymirolreasoned thus, being entirely ignorant of all that had occurred sincehis arrest. He did not suspect that George was far more deeplyinterested than himself in concealing the truth about the letters, sinceone of them, and the only one to which Puymirol attached no importance,had been written by Gabrielle's mother. Being ignorant of this fact,Adhemar naturally supposed that he might venture to confess the truth,without injuring his friend, who felt very little interest in BlanchePornic, and still less in the Countess de Lescombat. "Well, sir," hebegan, "I am deeply touched by the kindness and consideration with whichyou have treated me, and I should be ungrateful, indeed, if I longerresisted your entreaties. I will therefore confess that I knowDargental's murderer."

  "At last!" exclaimed M. Robergeot, with a meaning glance at his clerkwho had been sitting hard by, idly twirling his pen.

  Puymirol then duly acquainted the magistrate with the precisecircumstances of the finding of the pocket-book in the cab, on the wayto the Lion d'Or, and this point being disposed of he continued: "I amnow coming to the most important incident of my story. On the daypreceding my arrest, I dined at the Lion d'Or, and had scarcely begunmy dinner when I noticed that a gentleman who had taken a seat near mewas staring at me with unusual persistency. This gentleman finallyseated himself at my table, and then made some very strange disclosures.He began by admitting that he was the person who had thrown thepocket-book into the cab."

  "What was his object in telling you that, for he must have had an objectin confessing that he had thrown his pocket-book away?"

  "He wished me to return it to him."

  "Did you comply with his request?"

  "No. I replied that I had left it at home, but that I would send it tohim if he would give me his address. That he declined to do. He thenbegged of me to make an appointment to meet him somewhere. I refused,and asked him why he was so anxious to regain possession of an articlethat was not worth more than fifteen or twenty francs. He made some verypoor excuse, and, to try him, I told him I had taken it to thecommissary of police in the Chaussee d'Antin, whereupon he seemedgreatly disturbed, and after mumbling out some unintelligible excuse, heleft me."

  "Did you allow the matter to drop there?"

  "Wait a moment. I had a plan, and I proceeded to carry it intoexecution. I had the pocket-book about me at the time, and I have sincethought that he must have seen the end of it projecting from my pocket.I did not suspect it then, however, and I took it into my head to findout who he was, for I was as anxious to discover Dargental's murderer asyou can be. I thought that by following him at a little distance Ishould be able to find out where he lived. I adopted this course, and helet me follow him till we reached a lonely spot not far from the Avenuede Villiers; whereupon he turned to the right, into a little street Ihad never seen before. Here, I unconsciously ventured too near him, forhe had concealed himself, and just as I least expected it, he seized meby the throat, throwing me to the ground, and nearly strangling me. WhenI regained consciousness, I perceived that he had taken the pocket-bookfrom me, and that he was already almost out of sight."

  M. Robergeot listened very attentively to this narrative, and whenPuymirol paused, he quietly remarked: "The lottery tickets went as well,I suppose?"

  "No," murmured Puymirol, slightly embarrassed. "I half suspected thatthe rascal intended to attack me, so I took the precaution to removethem from the pocket-book. I am sorry now that I did not leave themthere, for in that case I should not have been tempted to use them,whereas, if he had yielded to the temptation, you would now haveDargental's real murderer in your power."

  "Can you describe this man?" asked M. Robergeot.

  "Certainly," replied Puymirol, delighted at this promising beginning."He was about fifty years of age, and of medium height, though ratherstrongly built, with a dark complexion, rather keen eyes, and a veryenergetic face. There was nothing particularly striking about hisappearance, but I should recognise him among a thousand."

  "Your description agrees with that given by the cabman. But how did thisman act when you spoke to him about the murder?"

  "I did not speak to him on the subject," answered Puymirol, slightlydisconcerted. "The fact is, I was afraid of arousing his suspicions. Itwas a part of my plan to let him do all the talking. I hoped he wouldbetray himself."

  "But you must have asked him why he threw the pocket-book into yourcab?"

  "Of course, and he replied that there were persons following him, andanxious to rob him, and that he could think of no other way ofoutwitting them."

  "The contents of this pocket-book must have been very valuable, judgingby his anxiety to secure possession of it again."

  "Perhaps it had contained some bank-notes, but when it came into myhands there was nothing in it but the lottery tickets."

  "And it was to recover these lottery tickets that this fellow risked hishead?--for he did risk it by entering into conversation with you in apublic place, as you had only to denounce him to secure his arrest. Infact, it was your duty to have sent word to a commissary of police whilethe scoundrel was seated at your table. Come, sir, complete yourconfession. Confess that there were some letters in thepocket-book--compromising letters, no doubt."

  Puymirol turned pale, and hung his head. He saw that he was caught inhis own trap. There was no course for him now but to make a clean breastof it. "You are right, sir," he said resolutely, "and I admit that Ihave done wrong in hiding that fact. There were some letters which Ientrusted to my friend, Caumont; but I must add that he consented toaccept the trust greatly against his will, and that, from the veryfirst, he urged me to take the pocket-book and its contents to acommissary of police."

  "And you say he has these letters?"

  "Unless he has burned them, which is not unlikely. He is well acquaintedwith Balmer, and must have heard of my arrest, so that a fear ofinjuring me may have led him to destroy the notes."

  "It will be very unfortunate for you, and for him, if these letters havedisappeared. Did you read them?"

  "Yes, and they were all written by women, former sweethearts ofDargental's, evidently. In fact, I feel almost positive that one ofthese women instigated the murder. However, these letters were none ofthem signed, so that the best means of getting at the truth would be tofind the man who threw the pocket-book into our cab, and who afterwardssucceeded in taking it from me. When he is once under arrest, it isprobable that he will make a full confession, and name the woman whohired him to commit the crime, for it will be greatly to his interest tothrow a part of the responsibility upon her."

  M. Robergeot was about to reply, but just then a clerk entered by aside-door, and approaching the magistrate, said a few words to him in alow tone. "Very well, show him in," was th
e response, and an instantafterwards the door opened for the second time, and George Caumontappeared. His manner was graver than usual; and it was very evident thathe was trying hard to repress some strong emotion. He bowed politely tothe magistrate, and then walked to Puymirol, with whom he shook hands.

  "I am very glad to see you," said Adhemar. "Your testimony will confirmthe statements I have just made."

  "I will spare you the trouble of questioning this gentleman,"interrupted M. Robergeot, and turning to George, he said: "Take achair."

  George silently obeyed, and waited. "Have you brought the letters?"asked the magistrate point blank.

  "What letters?" asked George, pretending not to understand.

  "The letters that were in the pocket-book."

  "I haven't the slightest idea what you mean."

  "Oh! your friend here intrusted them to your care."

  On hearing this, George, in surprise, glanced at Puymirol, whoexclaimed: "You can speak. I have told everything."

  Caumont turned pale. He forgot that Puymirol did not know Madame Verdon,so that he could not have mentioned her as one of Dargental'scorrespondents. "It would ill become me to contradict a man I like andesteem," he said in a voice husky with emotion, "and nothing could haveinduced me to betray the secret he confided to me, but as he bids mespeak, I admit that on the day I saw Monsieur de Puymirol for the lasttime, he intrusted a package of letters to my care, begging me to takecharge of them until his return home. As he failed to make hisappearance, I felt very anxious about him. However, Monsieur Balmerinformed me that my missing friend was in prison. I also learned fromthe same source that his rooms had been searched; and as I was perfectlysatisfied in my own mind that this search had been made for the expresspurpose of securing the letters in question, I thought it best to burnthem."

  "Indeed! Ah! You have done very wrong;" exclaimed the magistrate. "Bydestroying those letters you have made yourself, in a measure, theaccomplice of a murderer."

  Here Puymirol, thinking that George was getting them both into trouble,deemed it advisable to interfere. "Confess that you haven't burnedthem," he interposed, quickly. "You promised to keep them, and your wordcan be depended upon. You prevaricate from excess of delicacy, andbecause you are afraid of implicating some of Dargental's old flames.That is absurd. We should be simpletons to compromise ourselves on theiraccount. I would give up the letters, if I had them, without theslightest compunction."

  George was suffering terribly. He was on the rack, and his friend seemedto be deserting him. Ah, how glad he would have been to throw theletters on the magistrate's desk, if one of them had not come fromMadame Verdon. He now regretted that he had not kept the other two, or,at least, Madame de Lescombat's, for he hated her with all his heart. "Irepeat that I have not got them," he said, gloomily.

  M. Robergeot was about to put an end to the discussion, when hismessenger reappeared, this time with a note which the magistrate toreopen carelessly, little suspecting its importance. But he had scarcelyglanced at it, when his expression changed. "Who gave you this letter?"he inquired, eagerly.

  "A man who is waiting for an answer."

  "Very well; go and tell him that I will ring for him in a few moments.Until then, don't lose sight of him, and if he attempts to go away,detain him, by force if necessary, even if you have to call upon theguards for assistance." As soon as the messenger had left the room, M.Robergeot turned to the two young fellows and said: "To which of you amI indebted for this mystification? For it is the work of one of you, Ifeel certain." Then, seeing them look at each other in very naturalastonishment: "These are the terms of the letter I have just received,"he continued. "'Pierre Dargental's murderer desires an immediateinterview with the magistrate. He gives himself up, but he has somerevelations to make before the magistrate signs the order for hisdetention.' Now, have you any knowledge of this strange culprit? Am Iindebted to you for bringing him to light?"

  "What possible motive could we have had?" asked George.

  "Then you have no idea who he is?"

  "Not the slightest."

  "Well, I am now about to send for this man," resumed M. Robergeot,gravely. "Remain seated, and say nothing, whoever he may prove to be.You must not speak till I have finished."

  "Very well," replied Puymirol; "but you won't forbid me to look at him,and if it is my acquaintance of the restaurant, I will warn you by asign. If I recognise him, I will raise my hand to my forehead."

  "So be it; but confine yourself to that. As for you, Monsieur Caumont, Igive you permission to do the same, if you recognise this man as theperson who threw the pocket-book into your cab on the Place duCarrousel."

  George remained silent. He had not yet admitted that he was in the cabat the time, and he did not deem it advisable to admit it now. M.Robergeot did not insist, however. He rang, and the stranger entered,closely followed by the messenger, and advanced towards the desk atwhich the magistrate was seated; but on perceiving the two friends, whomhe had failed to notice at first, he turned pale, and stopped short.Puymirol found it very difficult to keep quiet, for he had recognisedthe mysterious stranger of the Lion d'Or at the very first glance. Herestrained himself, however, and, without a word, passed his hand acrosshis forehead. George Caumont, on his side, remained silent andmotionless; but every vestige of colour had fled from his cheeks,leaving him even paler than the visitor who declared himself to beDargental's murderer. "Come, sir," the magistrate said to the new comer,without inviting him to be seated, "I do not suppose that you came hereto play a joke on me; but I can not help wondering if you are in yourright mind. I warn you that I have no time to lose. So explain themeaning of the extraordinary letter I have just received from you. Ishould mention that these gentlemen are suspected of being accomplicesin the crime of which you accuse yourself. I, therefore, that theyshould hear what you have to say."

  "They accomplices!" exclaimed the stranger. "I declare that they areboth innocent. I had no accomplices."

  "Then you don't know either of these gentlemen?"

  However, instead of falling into the trap set for him, the new comercoolly replied: "I don't know their names, but I have seen them before.I have even had a long conversation with one of them. That one," headded, pointing to Puymirol.

  "Where, and under what circumstances?"

  "At the restaurant known as the Lion d'Or, which I entered for theexpress purpose of speaking to him."

  "That is perfectly true!" cried Puymirol, delighted to hear the culpritconfirm the testimony he had given.

  "And where did you see that gentleman?" asked the magistrate, pointingto George Caumont.

  "I saw him but once in a cab on the Place du Carrousel."

  "Well, why was it that you killed Pierre Dargental, on the 9th of Aprillast?"

  "Because he refused to surrender to me some letters which he intended touse against a woman."

  "But why did you interest yourself in her behalf?"

  "I was in love with her. She is a married woman, and Dargentalthreatened to denounce her to her husband, who would have killed her,had he seen those proofs of her infatuation."

  "So you became a murderer through love and devotion?" said M. Robergeot,ironically. "We will see by-and-by how the jury appreciate theseextenuating circumstances. In the meantime, if you wish me to believeyou, you must give me the name of this woman who was, of course, youraccomplice."

  "No, sir; I acted entirely without her knowledge or consent. She isabsolutely ignorant of what I have done."

  "Then you refuse to give me her name?"

  "Is it likely that I have risked my life, and surrender it to you, inview of betraying the woman I have sworn to save? Take my life; it isyours; but I shall carry my secret with me to the grave."

  George's face brightened, and Puymirol could not help showing hisadmiration for this heroism on the part of the man he had so bitterlyanathematized. "You fancy that this secret will die with you," repliedthe magistrate; "but I think I shall succeed in discovering it. Ibelieve I am
already on the track." And then, gazing searchingly at thestranger, M. Robergeot said:

  "We will return to this subject presently. You must now give me theparticulars of the murder."

  "It is for that purpose that I came here," replied the new comer,coldly. "I called on Dargental at about eleven o'clock, on the morningof April 9th. He admitted me himself, ushered me into the dining-room,and left me in order to enter his bed-chamber. He returned a momentafterwards with a pistol in his hand; and I had scarcely begun toexplain the object of my visit, before he began to abuse me in the mostinsulting manner. He showered offensive epithets upon me, and utteredthe most violent threats against the person whom I wished to placebeyond the reach of his knavery. He declared that if she did not pay himthe sum of two hundred thousand francs before two days had expired, hewould send the letters she had been so imprudent as to write him, to herhusband. He added that these letters were then in his pocket, ready tobe produced at any moment. Frantic with rage, I sprang at his throat. Hefreed himself, and threatened me with his pistol; I tried to wrest itfrom him, but during the struggle, and at a moment when the barrel ofthe pistol was pointed at his breast, the weapon went off."

  "And the bullet pierced Dargental's heart? This was a most unluckychance. You are remarkably clever. You almost convince me that you wereacting only in self-defence, and that the crime you committed was simplyjustifiable homicide. Well, what after?"

  "I lifted the body, placed it in an arm-chair, searched all his pockets,found the note-case he always carried upon his person, opened it,satisfied myself that the letters were there, placed it in my pocket,and left the house without even taking the precaution to wash myblood-stained hands."

  "Which left stains upon the lottery tickets you had handled?"

  "That is true; I recollect now, that there were some lottery tickets inone of the compartments of the pocket-book."

  "Well, you have not told me all. What occurred afterwards?"

  "I left the house, fully intending to return home and burn the letters,after showing them to the writer, but, on the Boulevard Haussmann, I sawtwo men who pretended to be strolling along, looking into the shopwindows, but whom I instantly recognised, in spite of their disguise, astwo men of a detective agency, whom the lady's husband had hired towatch his wife. Dargental had sent him anonymous letters about her andme. They started after me, and at the corner of the Rue de Rivoli andthe Rue des Pyramides one of them stopped to speak to a policeman, whilethe other continued to follow me. I watched the movements of thepoliceman out of the corner of my eye, and saw that he refused tointerfere. The next one we met might prove less scrupulous, and I mightbe arrested and taken to the station-house, where I should certainly besearched, and the letters found upon me. I realized my danger, and feltthat I had not a moment to lose in getting rid of the letters, sowithout stopping to reflect, I adopted the first plan that occurred tome. I was just passing one of the outlets of the Place du Carrousel.There was a long line of vehicles. The private detectives were followingme at a little distance, talking together, probably making arrangementsto pick a quarrel with me, in order to attract the attention of thepolice, who would take us to the station house. At all events theirconversation was so animated that they forgot to watch my movements. Inthe last cab on the line I saw two gentlemen. The window was open, and Idropped the pocket-book inside, carefully noting the number of thevehicle as I did so. The two detectives gave me no further trouble,however, as no policeman would consent to lend them a helping hand,still they followed me to Montrouge. There is a house there with which Iam familiar, and which has two outsets. I entered it, and made my escapeby one door, while the two rascals were talking with the porter at theother."

  "Is this all you have to tell me?" inquired M. Robergeot.

  "Yes, sir," the man replied, coldly. "You now merely have to send me toprison."

  "Which I shall proceed to do so as soon as certain formalities arecomplied with. Your disclosures were so unexpected that I quite forgotto ask your name, profession, age and residence."

  "It is useless to ask me for information that I can not give."

  "And why not?"

  "Because I should betray a secret that is not my own. If I told you whoI am, you would soon know the woman I wish to save."

  "You hope to die like Campi, who was executed without any one havingbeen able to discover his real name. Your case does not resemble his inthe least, however."

  "No, certainly not, and I shall die in an entirely different way, but Ishall die unknown."

  This was said in a tone that made M. Robergeot wonder if he were notdealing with a madman. "But your deposition must be signed," said he.

  "Oh! I am quite ready to acknowledge in writing that I have told thetruth, and that I have nothing to retract, but I shall sign the firstname that occurs to me."

  The magistrate felt that it was time to put an end to this discussion.He knew that time and solitude overcome the most stubborn resistance;besides, the presence of the two friends was a constraint upon him. "Sobe it," said he. "I shall question you again, however, after you havehad time for reflection. In the meantime, you can write youracknowledgment, after first reading the deposition you have just made."

  The stranger thereupon rose up, approached the clerk's table, took apen, and then at the bottom of the last page of the report of hisevidence he wrote these words: "I declare that I persist in mystatements correctly recorded above: that I alone, and of my own freewill, killed Pierre Dargental; that no one prompted me to commit thecrime, and that no one knew I was the perpetrator of the murder, until Imade the above confession in the presence of Monsieur Robergeot, and oftwo gentlemen unknown to me."

  He then handed the document to the magistrate, who, after glancing atit, said quietly: "Very well. You will now be taken to the depot."

  But all at once the man retreated to the wall, which was only three orfour steps from him, put his hand in his overcoat pocket, and drew out aweapon that elicited an exclamation of dismay from the magistrate. Thisweapon was one of those old-fashioned horse pistols, rarely seennow-a-days, and before any one could reach the stranger, he had raisedthis fire-arm to his head and pulled the trigger. A loud explosion shookthe walls; a cloud of smoke filled the office, and drops of warm bloodspurted in Puymirol's face. The murderer was lying motionless at thefoot of the wall--dead. The witnesses of this sudden suicide stood for amoment overcome with horror. The guard, who had escorted Puymirol intothe room, looked as white as a sheet, though he was an old soldier. Theclerk, in his alarm, had entered the office without waiting for M.Robergeot to ring. "Fetch the commissary of police on duty here in thepalace," said the magistrate. "I, myself, will summon the publicprosecutor. Your examination is ended for the present, gentlemen. You,Monsieur Caumont, are at liberty to retire, but you must hold yourselfin readiness to appear before me at any moment, for this affair is notended. You, Monsieur de Puymirol, will return to the depot, and remainthere until I send for you which will be in a short time, probably."

  George rushed wildly through the passages, and it was not until he foundhimself out of doors that he again breathed freely Where could he findAlbert? They had parted in the Rue de Medicis, after vainly waiting forRoch Plancoet to join them in the garden of the Luxembourg. George had,of course, been obliged to follow the messenger sent to conduct himbefore the magistrate; and Albert had parted from him with a cheery:"I'll see you again to-morrow." But George now wanted to see the youngofficer at once; for the man who had just blown his brains out in thepresence of the two friends was Roch Plancoet, and it had cost George nolittle effort to conceal his emotion on seeing him enter M. Robergeot'soffice. Why had he killed himself? and why had he declared to George'sprofound astonishment that he was Dargental's murderer? Evidently tospare Gabrielle the pain of knowing her mother's disgrace. But what astrange means he had employed! Could he have really believed that theauthorities would always remain ignorant of his name? He had certainlydisfigured himself beyond power of recognition, but justice pos
sessesother means of establishing a person's identity. Besides, was hisstatement really correct? The story of the agents despatched to watchhim by M. Rochas was very extraordinary, and yet, otherwise, why had hethrown the pocket-book into the cab? Whilst thus reflecting, GeorgeCaumont reached the Place Saint-Michel. Some omnibuses there barred hispassage, and while waiting to pass, he saw Madame Verdon approachinghim. He tried to avoid her, but it was too late. She called to him, andsaid: "Well, are you satisfied? You have leagued yourself with Albertand Gabrielle, I see, so as to force me to leave Paris, and you haveeven sent Monsieur Plancoet to me with your orders. You deserve to marrya girl who rebels against her mother. However, farewell, and good luckto you," she added, with a sneering laugh. "I have just been toPlancoet's notary and have left him my written consent to your marriage.Monsieur Rochas is waiting for me, and I must make haste if I want tocatch the express for Rome, _via_ Florence."

  With these concluding words, she entered a passing cab, leaving Georgeamazed and indignant beyond expression. On his way up the BoulevardSaint-Michel he was obliged to pass Madame Verdon's residence, and hefelt strongly tempted to enter it. Gabrielle was there, no doubt, butwhat should he say to her? How could he explain to her, her mother'sconduct, and acquaint her with the tragical death of her old friend,Roch? It would certainly be better to allow her brother time to prepareher for this blow. Accordingly he walked straight on to the Rue deMedicis. Here his doorkeeper handed him a note from Albert which ran asfollows: "Everything has been arranged. I have seen my sister, and thisevening I shall take her to the house of Madame de Brangue, my colonel'swife, who will act as her chaperon for the present. Call on me to-morrowmorning, at nine o'clock, at the Hotel de l'Empereur Joseph, in the Ruede Tournon. Try to find Plancoet before you come, and bring him withyou. His visit to my mother accomplished wonders. What a friend we havein him! He has saved us all."

  "At the cost of his life!" murmured George, sorrowfully, for he did notshare the illusions of his future brother-in-law.

  However, he was punctual in keeping the appointment that Albert had madewith him for the following morning, and on reaching the hotel he foundthe lieutenant smoking a cigar in his room. The first words that theyoung officer articulated were: "Where is Plancoet? Didn't you bring himwith you?"

  George shook his head. He did not know how to break the terrible news tohis prospective brother-in-law. "Plancoet will never come," he at lastsaid, sadly.

  "Why? has any accident happened to him?"

  George was about to reply that he was dead, when one of the hotelservants entered with a letter which he handed to Albert. "Why, thisnote is from Roch," exclaimed the young officer in astonishment. "Howstrange for him to write instead of coming to see me. The letter musthave been posted yesterday evening. Let us see what he has to say."

  He broke the seal, and drew from the envelope two sheets of paper whichGeorge had only to glance at, to recognise the letters of BlanchePornic and the countess. Albert laid them on the table and then openingthe missive from Plancoet which accompanied them, he read aloud asfollows: "'My dear boy,--You, as yet, only know a part of the truth, andyou must know it all. You will henceforth be the head of the family; anduntil your sister marries, you will be responsible for her, for I shallnot be at hand to watch over her.'"

  "Why, what can he be driving at?" exclaimed the lieutenant. "Roch is thebest fellow in the world, but he has a fondness for making a mystery outof everything.

  "'I am sure that your mother will yield,'" he continued, resuming hisperusual, "'and it is hardly probable that you will ever see her again.That is why, before I go to see her, I wish to make you clearlyunderstand the part she has played in an affair which has proved soterrible in its consequences to us all, and to me especially. I need notrevert to the past, nor need I speak of your mother's fault. I can onlyplead extenuating circumstances on her behalf. While your poor fatherlived she did not fail in her duty. She brought you up carefully, yoursister and yourself; she even loved you devotedly. It was her husband'sdeath that caused all this misery. Left to herself, and transplanted toParis, she lacked the strength to resist the many temptations of her newlife; and fate willed that she should meet a scoundrel who only thoughtof profiting by her weakness. He wanted to marry her for her money, butI managed to prevent that, though she fell a willing victim to hisfascinations. She finally discovered, however, that she had severalrivals in his affections, and a rupture followed. She could not escapefrom Dargental's persecutions; his demands never ceased, and latterly,they assumed such a threatening character that I resolved to put an endto them. I could not choose my means in doing this. It was absolutelynecessary to secure the restitution of a letter which Dargental hadthreatened to send to Monsieur Rochas, in case your mother did notconsent to purchase it at a cost of two hundred thousand francs; and Icould not hope to obtain it from Dargental by persuasion. Your motherwas terribly frightened, and wished to marry as soon as possible inorder to have a protector capable of defending her. I took good care notto say a word to her about the plan which I had formed, and which Iexecuted without anybody's help. I resolved to kill Dargental, and I didkill him!'

  "Plancoet a murderer! impossible!" exclaimed the lieutenant.

  "I knew it," murmured George. "Go on to the end, my friend."

  Albert was in consternation, but he, nevertheless, continued: "'I killedhim, after a violent altercation which would almost justify me inpleading that I only acted in self-defence; but I believe I should havekilled him in any case. This man would have cast a shadow overGabrielle's whole life. He was a disgrace to mankind. I secured theletter which he had intended to use as a weapon against your mother andyourselves, and I left the house; and we should have all been saved butfor a strange fatality. When you see Monsieur Caumont again, ask him toexplain how he and his friend, Monsieur de Puymirol, came intopossession of the pocket-book I had taken from Dargental, and tell himthat I was the person who threw that pocket-book into their cab. He willguess the rest, and explain everything to you. I enclose in this notethe letters written by the two ladies I do not know. I keep the third,which will be useful to me in negotiating with your mother. If sheaccepts the conditions we have agreed to impose upon her--as I have nodoubt she will--I shall leave her letter with Monsieur Berlier, mynotary, who resides at No. 7 on the Quai Saint-Michel, with instructionsto give it to your mother in exchange for her written consent to yoursister's marriage with Monsieur Caumont.'"

  "The exchange has been effected," said George. "I met your mother as shewas leaving the notary's office."

  "'And this is what I have resolved to do, whatever the result may be:'"resumed Albert, still reading Plancoet's letter: "'Monsieur Caumont'smost intimate friend has been arrested, and is still in prison, chargedwith a crime of which he is innocent. He shall not remain there anylonger. I will not permit it. I shall call upon the magistrate this veryday, and inform him that it was I who killed Dargental. He will ask mewhy I killed him, and I shall be obliged to invent some story that willscreen your mother from suspicion. He will also ask my name; but I shallrefuse to give it, and I shall kill myself in the magistrate'spresence.'"

  "He must have been crazy when he wrote that," said Albert.

  "He did kill himself, I saw him do so," rejoined George.

  "Good heavens! is it true? you were present at the time?"

  "Yes," said Caumont; and he forthwith related all that had taken placein the magistrate's office.

  "Poor Roch!" murmured the lieutenant, dashing away a tear. "Hesacrificed his life for our sake, I see that. But I have not finishedhis letter; let me read on to the end: 'I mean to shoot myself in such away that I shall be absolutely disfigured. There are no marks on mylinen, no tailor's name on my clothes: I have even pulled the lining outof my hat so that my identity will always remain a mystery for theofficials. My notary will hand you a power of attorney enabling you toattend to my affairs, for I have told him and the doorkeeper at my housethat I am going to America. Nobody will pay any attention to mydisapp
earance. Believe me when I say that your mother is quite guiltlessin all this. Puymirol also; Rochas, too, knew nothing about it, thoughDargental had sent him anonymous letters, and he was having me watched,believing me to be your mother's lover. Dargental would have broughtdisgrace upon you all. He would not have stopped at anything: he was sovery furious that he could not obtain a large sum of money from yourmother. There was but one course to follow--to put him out of theway--and I adopted it. And now, God bless you! Think of me sometimes.Give Caumont Gabrielle's portrait which hangs in my sitting-room.Good-bye, my dear Albert, my last thought will be for you all.'"

  A spell of silence followed this perusal. There were tears in the youngmen's eyes. However, finally, Caumont remarked: "It seems as thoughRoch's suicide will really end the investigation. His body will not beidentified, and the affair will be forgotten, providing we prevent anyimprudent act calculated to revive it."

  "An imprudent act! We shall certainly not commit any."

  "No; but we can't foresee what the writers of those letters will do.Even now, they may be shuddering at the thought of being compromised;and fear is a bad adviser."

  "You are right, and I think it would be as well to return the letters tothem immediately--the sooner the better. Let us take a cab, and call onthem."

  Caumont assented; and five minutes later, he and Albert were rollingthrough the streets of Paris, bound first for Blanche's rooms in theAvenue de Messine, and thence for the Lescombat mansion near the ParcMonceau.

  * * * * *

  But little more now remains to be told; Blanche received her letter, andthe countess received hers; and both missives were duly burnt withoutdelay. Three weeks after Roch Plancoet's death, George and Gabriellewere married at the church of St. Sulpice. The bride was, perhaps, atrifle sad as her brother and her happy spouse had been obliged toinform her of Roch's suicide, and even amid her bliss, she could notentirely forget the worthy old friend, who had sacrificed himself forher and hers. M. Robergeot had failed to penetrate the identity ofDargental's murderer, so thorough had been the precautions which Rochhad taken; and to the authorities, if not to our readers, the crime ofthe Boulevard Haussmann still remains a puzzling mystery.

  Madame Verdon is now married. She was united at Florence to M. Rochas,who rules her with an iron hand. Puymirol, having been duly released,has converted his Aunt Besseges's property into cash and left for NewYork, where he hopes to find a rich wife, but the Americans are shrewd,and his sanguine expectations may not be realised. Poor Charles Balmeris furious. A celebrated physician has just informed him that he hasthirty more years to live, and he has only money enough left to last himeighteen months. Albert is fast becoming an able officer, and is dailyexpecting promotion; while as for George and Gabrielle they are reallyhappy, and still remember Roch Plancoet, who died to insure them apeaceful, unclouded life.

  THE END.

  _S. Cowan & Co., Printers, Perth._