Captain Duret turned and looked in the same direction. “Oh yes, the airship. I wish them luck. France ought to lead the world in aeronautics.”
“Yes, Captain; indeed, we should.”
Several thousand men, women, and children gathered on the Champs-de-Mars to witness the aeronautical event. The long, verdant parade ground and surrounding parkland had been a choice spot for ascensions ever since the advent of ballooning during the last days of the ancien régime.
The spectators anticipated a demonstration of controlled, powered flight that would equal or exceed Krebs and Renard’s 1884 breakthrough aerial adventure in La France. The army officers had piloted their airship a round-trip distance of eight kilometers in twenty-three minutes. Today’s route began at the École Militaire, continued past the Eiffel Tower, across the river to the Palais du Trocadéro, and back; twice around the circuit would surpass the record eight-kilometer mark.
The airship, which measured approximately twenty meters in length, had been transported to the field in two vans. There, it was assembled and the cigar-shaped balloon filled with almost six-hundred cubic meters of hydrogen gas. The gondola was an open bamboo framework, upon which was mounted a battery-powered electric motor that produced eight horsepower. The lightweight engine drove a four-bladed tractor propeller, and there was a rudder and elevator to assist in steering the craft. The gondola displayed a tricolor flag on its stern.
A few police officers were there to hold back observers at the launching site. Reporters and photographers assembled to record the event. Dressed smartly in English tweeds and sporting a long silk scarf, the aeronaut posed for photographs and answered the reporters’ questions.
After he finished with the journalists, the aeronaut checked the wind speed and direction, barometric pressure and temperature; conditions appeared optimal for flight. He consulted with a mechanic who had built and tested the engine and spoke to the men who were responsible for filling the balloon with gas. Feeling confident in the success of his venture, the aeronaut climbed into the gondola to cheers and a round of applause. He smiled and waved at the onlookers. Then he signaled his crew to release the mooring lines.
The ship rose quickly; the aeronaut leveled off and started the motor. The propeller turned, the blades beat the air, and the craft moved forward and gained speed. Far below, the crowds gathered on the Champs-de-Mars gazed upward and gasped and shouted in awe; many among them waved tiny tricolor flags. A band struck up Saint-Saëns’s “Marche Militaire Française”; the swaggering melody echoed throughout the vast field as the machine floated gracefully overhead, its passing shadow aimed directly at the tower.
Inspector Legros waited for Mignonette at their designated rendezvous, among a crowd congregating near the arch at the tower’s base. While all eyes fixed on the approaching airship, Étienne scanned the area in search of the young woman. After a moment, he spotted an attractive girl wearing a blue frock and a straw bonnet. She was standing among a group of spectators sheltered beneath the shade of a tall chestnut tree. The young woman glanced around, as if she were searching for someone. Then their eyes met; she waved and began walking toward Legros.
Étienne smiled at Mignonette and gestured for her to join him. Then he heard a murmuring that rolled through the crowd, gathering momentum like a breaker surging ashore. The sound of the band faded and died. Looking up into the sky, he noticed that the airship, which was about four hundred meters from the tower, seemed to be losing altitude precipitately. The aeronaut tugged frantically at a line dangling from the balloon. A man standing next to Legros said, “He’s in trouble.” A moment later someone shouted, “He’s coming down!” Another screamed, “It’s going to crash!”
Less than two hundred meters from where Legros was standing, the aeronaut cut the motor. The out-of-control airship pitched and drifted with the wind toward a tall stand of chestnut trees. Spectators scrambled out of the way of the plummeting craft. Mignonette disappeared among the scattering throng.
The loud groan and sharp crack of bending and snapping wood resounded over the field as the gondola snagged in the treetops. The deflated gasbag flopped over the branches; the aeronaut dropped a mooring rope and shinnied down to safety. A few policemen ran to him, having already given up hope of controlling the crowd.
Hundreds had fled the Champs-de-Mars. The remainder, now seemingly out of danger, swarmed to the crash site to examine the wreckage. The police formed a cordon to ward off the milling curiosity seekers. Legros spotted Mignonette standing by herself in the middle of the field. He ran to her.
“Are you all right, Mademoiselle?” He could see she was trembling.
Mignonette stared at him without speaking.
Legros offered his arm. “Please come with me. I have a fiacre.”
She nodded and accompanied him. Legros escorted her to the Avenue de la Bourdonnais where his cab waited by the curb. He opened the door, helped her into the fiacre, and gave the driver instructions.
Legros sat beside her, reached into his pocket, and took out a silver flask. “Would you care for some brandy, Mademoiselle? It’ll do you good.”
She held out a shaking hand and stuttered, “Thank . . . thank you, Monsieur.” She took a long draft, wiped her lips, and returned the flask.
Legros waited patiently for the young woman to calm down. When she appeared more composed, he asked, “Do you feel like talking to me now?”
She took a deep breath and turned to him. “Forgive me, Monsieur. So many things have happened lately, and now this. It’s too much. I’m afraid; I can’t help thinking about Manuela. But yes, I’ll talk to you. I fear that Bonnet may have had something to do with her death.”
“What makes you think that?”
“First, you must understand the relationship between Madame and Bonnet. They’re lovers. All the servants know, and Monsieur doesn’t seem to care. According to Manuela, the baron encouraged the affair. I suppose he figured it would keep Madame occupied and distract her from his own liaisons.
“Before they left for Aix-les-Bains, Manuela overheard an argument between Madame and Monsieur. The baron had paid Bonnet a good deal of money for some service he was to perform, and Madame demanded to know why.”
“Did Manuela say what that service was?”
“No, she didn’t, but it must have been very important. She said the baron paid Bonnet five thousand francs.”
“Did she know—did she say what he did with the money?”
“Yes, Monsieur. She saw him hide the five thousand francs.”
“Where did he conceal it?”
“There’s a loose floorboard under his bed. That’s his hiding place.”
“How did she see him? I assume he closed the door.”
Mignonette looked down at her hands. “She . . . she peeked through the keyhole. Manuela suspected Bonnet was up to no good. She believed he’d give her something to keep her mouth shut, but she was afraid to ask.”
“I see. Did the baron pay Bonnet in gold or banknotes?”
“Manuela said banknotes, Monsieur.”
I hope he hasn’t moved the swag, Legros thought. “Pardon me, Mademoiselle. Was Manuela in bed with la grippe when she returned from Aix-les-Bains?”
“Not at first, Monsieur. She had a bad cold, that’s all. She didn’t get really sick until later, when Madame had the doctor in to see her.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No, Monsieur. That’s all I know. But I believe . . . I’m almost sure Bonnet sneaked into her room and gave her too much medicine. He must have found out that she spied on him.”
Legros thought a moment before pursuing: “Only Madame and the cook were supposed to administer the drug, and if what you’ve told me is true, Manuela feared Bonnet. I doubt she would have taken the medicine from him without a struggle.”
Mignonette shook her head. “I don’t know, Monsieur. Manuela snored. Perhaps she was asleep and he poured some into her open mouth?”
She would h
ave gagged and thrashed violently, he thought. Legros smiled and touched her hand reassuringly. “That’s enough for now, Mademoiselle. I’m taking you to a safe place. For the time being, you’ll remain under police protection. You needn’t worry about Bonnet.”
Her eyes widened, and her voice quavered. “What . . . what about my position, M. Legros? What will Madame say?”
“This is police business, Mademoiselle. I’ll explain everything to Madame de Livet. Her husband is missing, and one of her servants is dead. She should want to get to the truth.”
“Pardon me, Monsieur. Do you mean even if the truth sends her lover to prison?”
A good question, he thought. “Please calm yourself, Mademoiselle. Do you trust me?”
“Yes, Monsieur,” she said quietly.
“Good,” he replied. “I’ll see to it no one harms you.”
Legros rang the Lefebvres’ doorbell. Suzanne answered. She opened the door and smiled at the inspector. Her pleasant expression changed when she saw Mignonette Hubert standing behind the detective. Suzanne’s cool greeting matched her censorious frown. “Good day, M. Legros. How may I help you?”
“Good day, Suzanne. I have an important message from M. Lefebvre. Is Madame in?”
“Yes, Monsieur. Please wait a moment.” She turned and left them in the hallway. Had Legros been alone, she would have invited him in to the sitting room.
Adele came to the door. Her anxious expression reflected her bewilderment after Suzanne told her Inspector Legros had arrived on “urgent police business” with “some woman.”
“Good day, Étienne; Mademoiselle. You have a message from M. Lefebvre?”
“Yes, Madame.” He removed the letter from his jacket pocket and handed it to Adele.
After reading the note quickly, she said, “I understand, Étienne.” Then she greeted Mignonette with a sympathetic smile and gentle voice: “Well, Mademoiselle Hubert, it seems you are to be our guest.”
Mignonette curtsied nervously and brushed away a tear. “I’m so sorry, Madame Lefebvre.”
Adele reached out, took the young woman’s hand, and guided her across the threshold. “Nonsense, Mademoiselle. You are welcome. My mother and I were about to take tea. Will you join us?”
Mignonette wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and nodded. “Thank you, Madame; I’m in your debt.”
She smiled at Legros. “You’re invited, too, Étienne.”
“Thank you, Madame, but I’m afraid I must return to duty.”
“I understand. Will you dine with us at eight? Cook is making an excellent cassoulet.”
Legros flushed with embarrassment and cleared his throat before answering. “That’s very kind of you, Madame, but that would depend on the chief. I . . . I’ll mention it to him this afternoon.”
“I see. Please tell Monsieur Lefebvre that I expect you both for dinner.”
Legros tipped his hat politely. “I’ll try to persuade him, Madame Lefebvre. Good day.” Then he looked at Mignonette. “Please don’t worry, Mademoiselle. You’re safe. Au revoir.”
The young woman smiled faintly. “Thank you, Monsieur. Au revoir.”
As he exited the foyer door, Legros spotted Detective Allard watching from his observation post on the other side of the Rue Bertin Poirée. Legros signaled to the detective to remain where he was. Then he crossed the street and walked over to his subordinate’s station. “Is everything all right, Allard?”
“Yes, M. Legros; all’s quiet. Who’s the young woman, if I may ask?”
“She’s an important witness. She’ll be staying with the Lefebvres for a while. Please inform your relief. I’ll speak to Sergeant Adam when I return to headquarters.”
“Very well, Inspector. Good day.”
“Good day, Allard.”
When Legros arrived at the de Livet mansion, Sergeant Marechal met him in the foyer.
“How goes it, Marechal?”
The seasoned detective frowned and shook his head. “Not very well, M. Legros. We’ve turned up nothing, and Madame’s growing more impatient by the hour.”
“Where is Madame de Livet?”
“Sulking in her boudoir, I suppose.”
“Where’s Bonnet?”
“Out running errands for his mistress, as usual.”
“You have someone shadowing him?”
“Of course, Inspector. I put one of my best men on his tail.”
“That’s good. Have you searched his room yet?”
“Not yet, Monsieur. It’s one of the last on our list, and we’re just about done.”
“Excellent; we’ll do it now.”
The veteran smiled slyly and lowered his voice. “You’ve got something, Inspector?”
Legros nodded. “Perhaps. Come on; let’s do this quickly.”
Legros followed the sergeant up three flights to Bonnet’s little room in the servants’ quarters. They entered. Legros said, “Watch the door, Marechal. I’d prefer no one saw us.”
The sergeant remained on the threshold while Legros dashed to the bed, crouched, and felt around the floorboards. After a moment he muttered, “Got it.” Legros removed a loosened board and pulled out a glass jar stuffed with hundred-franc notes. He put the banknotes in his pocket, closed the jar, and returned it to its hiding place.
The sergeant said, “The way is clear, Inspector.”
Legros and Marechal left the room. Legros stopped on the landing and whispered, “How much longer do you need to complete the search?”
“An hour at most, Inspector.”
“All right. Say nothing to anyone about what I found. I’m going to speak to the baroness to let her know we’ll be out of here soon.”
“That’ll make the old girl happy.”
“I suppose so, but I’ve other news for her that she won’t like as much.”
They proceeded downstairs. Legros stopped at the first-floor landing and knocked on Madame de Livet’s door.
“Yes, who is it?” she asked impatiently.
“Inspector Legros, Madame. May I enter?”
“The door’s unlocked,” she replied.
Legros approached the baroness, who was reclining on a settee, a fashion magazine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He noticed a glass and a half-emptied sherry decanter set on a small round table next to the settee.
Legros removed his hat and bowed. “I regret disturbing you, Madame.”
“How nice of you to say that, with your detectives poking their noses into every corner of my home.”
Legros ignored her sarcasm. She was irritated, and what he had to say could irritate her more. “I’ve good news for you, Madame. Our search is nearly completed; my detectives should be finished in no more than an hour.”
Madame put down her cigarette and magazine, sat up, and smoothed her skirts with a rustle of silk. Her sour expression changed to a hopeful smile. “Thank goodness, Monsieur. Did they find anything of interest?”
Legros shook his head sadly. “Alas, I regret to say they did not. I apologize for putting you to all this trouble.”
“No need for apologies, Inspector. I fear I was somewhat abrupt just now. Regardless of the inconvenience, I will do everything I can to assist your investigation. After all, my husband is still missing and poor Manuela’s dead.”
“Thank you, Madame. You have been most helpful. Unfortunately, I must mention something that might further inconvenience you. I regret to inform you that Mlle Hubert won’t be returning to your household this afternoon. She’ll be residing elsewhere for a while.”
“Mignonette not returning? Why not?”
“The poor girl’s had an awful shock, Madame. She and Mlle Otero were very close, as you know, and now Mlle Hubert feels threatened.”
The baroness’s normally smooth face wrinkled in a worried frown. “Why does she feel that way? Who in my household would hurt her?”
Legros smiled as if to shrug off the matter. “Madame, that’s exactly what I said when she came to me. The child think
s Bonnet might do her an injury.”
“Bonnet? What nonsense. She must be imagining things.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that, Madame. So you think there’s no reason for her to fear?”
She thought a moment before replying, “Not to my knowledge, Inspector.”
A carefully worded response, he thought. “Very well, Madame; but perhaps we should indulge her until this matter is settled.”
The baroness’s eyes narrowed, and she replied coldly, “Is M. Lefebvre aware of this?”
“Of course, Madame. I’m acting under the chief inspector’s orders.”
“I see. And where will Mignonette be staying until this issue is resolved?”
“Alas, Madame, I’m not at liberty to say.”
She stared at him for a moment before saying, “Is that all, M. Legros?”
He bowed. “Yes, Madame de Livet. I’ll leave you in peace. Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Inspector.”
After Legros left, the baroness paced the room for a minute or two. Then she stopped at the round table, poured another drink, and lit a cigarette. She sat on the couch, leaned back on the bolster, and stared at the ceiling. She remained there, smoking, drinking, and flipping through magazines, until the detectives left the mansion.
Achille and Legros met late in the afternoon. An hour before sunset, the shades were drawn in the chief’s office; gas jets filled the room with a warm, golden glow. M. Lefebvre was in a good mood. Placing his elbows on the desktop, he leaned forward and smiled at his assistant.
“That was clever, Étienne; very clever. You’re certain no one saw you take the banknotes?”
“I’m positive, Chief. Marechal kept watch at the door.”
“I’d give five thousand francs to see the look on Bonnet’s face when he discovers his little fortune’s gone missing.”
“It’ll stir things up, all right. And I doubt he’ll report the ‘theft’ to the police.”
Achille laughed. “I’d give ten thousand francs if he tried. You checked the serial numbers against the list you got from the bank?”
The Man Upon the Stair Page 12