The Widow Lerouge

E >> Emile Gaboriau >> The Widow Lerouge


"I think I am right," replied the detective, "and I hope to prove it. I
shall 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 in
respect?--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 by
appearances. He has become an amateur detective for the sake of
popularity, 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 finds
himself in the presence of a crime, like this one, for example, he
pretends he can explain everything on the instant. And he manages to
invent a story that will correspond exactly with the situation. He
professes, with the help of one single fact, to be able to reconstruct
all the details of an assassination, as a savant pictures an
antediluvian animal from a single bone. Sometimes he divines correctly;
very often, though, he makes a mistake. Take, for instance, the case of
the tailor, the unfortunate Dereme, without me--"

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

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

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

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

The grocer's wife first made her appearance. She had heard Widow Lerouge
speak 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, it
was evening, she was, saving your presence, a little tipsy. She remained
in my shop more than an hour."

"And what did she say?"

"I think I see her now," continued the shopkeeper: "she was leaning
against 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 water
sailor. '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 me
back 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, very
drunk. She told us that her son's name was Jacques, and that she had not
seen 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 at
bottom, and that he led her a miserable life. He was weak-headed, and
forged ideas out of nothing at all. In fact he was too honest to be
wise."

"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 she
always buys the best brandy. She paid cash for all she bought."

The woman knowing no more was dismissed. The child, who was now brought
forward, belonged to parents in easy circumstances. Tall and strong
for his age, he had bright intelligent eyes, and features expressive of
watchfulness and cunning. The presence of the magistrate did not seem to
intimidate 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 Madame
Lerouge's garden-gate."

"At what time of the day?"

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

"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 I
spoke to him."

"Tell me, then, what occurred?"

"Well, sir, I was passing when I saw this fat man at the gate. He
appeared very much vexed, oh! but awfully vexed! His face was red, or
rather purple, as far as the middle of his head, which I could see very
well, 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 came
up to him, and he asked me if I had got a good pair of legs? I answered
yes. 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 you
ten sous. Run as far as the Seine; and when you reach the quay, you will
notice 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 am
ready.' Then he put ten sous in my hand; and off I went."

"If all the witnesses were like this bright little fellow," murmured the
commissary, "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's
all."

Gevrol, who had listened with the most lively attention, leaned over
towards the ear of M. Daburon, and said in a low voice: "Will you permit
me, 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 from
out 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 more
details to give us."

The boy hung down his head, and remained silent. From the knitting of
his 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 the
fellow now. M. Daburon can prepare a warrant for his appearance whenever
he likes."

"I believe, indeed, the testimony of this child is of the highest
importance," said M. Daburon; and turning to the boy added, "Can you
tell 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 prow
of 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 name
of the boat? you can read I suppose. One should always know the names of
the 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 was
probably 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 find
out 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 this
meeting before to-day?"

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

"And you have told us the whole truth?" continued the magistrate. "You
know that it is a very grave matter to attempt to impose on justice. She
always finds it out, and it is my duty to warn you that she inflicts the
most 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't
punish 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 twenty
sous. I only gave half to mamma; and I kept the rest to buy marbles
with."

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



CHAPTER II.

The two last depositions awakened in M. Daburon's mind some slight
gleams of hope. In the midst of darkness, the humblest rush-light
acquires brilliancy.

"I will go at once to Bougival, sir, if you approve of this step,"
suggested Gevrol.

"Perhaps you would do well to wait a little," answered M. Daburon. "This
man was seen on Sunday morning; we will inquire into Widow Lerouge's
movements on that day."

Three neighbours were called. They all declared that the widow had
kept her bed all Sunday. To one woman who, hearing she was unwell,
had visited her, she said, "Ah! I had last night a terrible accident."
Nobody at the time attached any significance to these words.

"The man with the rings in his ears becomes more and important," said
the magistrate, when the woman had retired. "To find him again is
indispensable: you must see to this, M. Gevrol."

"Before eight days, I shall have him," replied the chief of detective
police, "if I have to search every boat on the Seine, from its source
to the ocean. I know the name of the captain, Gervais. The navigation
office will tell me something."

He was interrupted by Lecoq, who rushed into the house breathless. "Here
is old Tabaret," he said. "I met him just as he was going out. What a
man! He wouldn't wait for the train, but gave I don't know how much to a
cabman; and we drove here in fifty minutes!"

Almost immediately, a man appeared at the door, whose aspect it must be
admitted was not at all what one would have expected of a person who had
joined the police for honour alone. He was certainly sixty years old and
did not look a bit younger. Short, thin, and rather bent, he leant
on the carved ivory handle of a stout cane. His round face wore that
expression of perpetual astonishment, mingled with uneasiness, which
has made the fortunes of two comic actors of the Palais-Royal theatre.
Scrupulously shaved, he presented a very short chin, large and good
natured lips, and a nose disagreeably elevated, like the broad end of
one of Sax's horns. His eyes of a dull gray, were small and red at the
lids, and absolutely void of expression; yet they fatigued the observer
by their insupportable restlessness. A few straight hairs shaded his
forehead, which receded like that of a greyhound, and through their
scantiness barely concealed his long ugly ears. He was very comfortably
dressed, clean as a new franc piece, displaying linen of dazzling
whiteness, and wearing silk gloves and leather gaiters. A long and
massive gold chain, very vulgar-looking, was twisted thrice round his
neck, and fell in cascades into the pocket of his waistcoat.

M. Tabaret, surnamed Tirauclair, stood at the threshold, and bowed
almost to the ground, bending his old back into an arch, and in the
humblest of voices asked, "The investigating magistrate has deigned to
send for me?"

"Yes!" replied M. Daburon, adding under his breath; "and if you are a
man of any ability, there is at least nothing to indicate it in your
appearance."

"I am here," continued the old fellow, "completely at the service of
justice."

"I wish to know," said M. Daburon, "whether you can discover some clue
that will put us upon the track of the assassin. I will explain the--"

"Oh, I know enough of it!" interrupted old Tabaret. "Lecoq has told me
the principal facts, just as much as I desire to know."

"Nevertheless--" commenced the commissary of police.

"If you will permit me, I prefer to proceed without receiving any
details, in order to be more fully master of my own impressions. When
one knows another's opinion it can't help influencing one's judgment.
I will, if you please, at once commence my researches, with Lecoq's
assistance."

As the old fellow spoke, his little gray eyes dilated, and became
brilliant as carbuncles. His face reflected an internal satisfaction;
even his wrinkles seemed to laugh. His figure became erect, and his step
was almost elastic, as he darted into the inner chamber.

He remained there about half an hour; then came out running, then
re-entered and then again came out; once more he disappeared and
reappeared again almost immediately. The magistrate could not help
comparing him to a pointer on the scent, his turned-up nose even moved
about as if to discover some subtle odour left by the assassin. All
the while he talked loudly and with much gesticulation, apostrophising
himself, scolding himself, uttering little cries of triumph or
self-encouragement. He did not allow Lecoq to have a moment's rest. He
wanted this or that or the other thing. He demanded paper and a pencil.
Then he wanted a spade; and finally he cried out for plaster of Paris,
some water and a bottle of oil.

When more than an hour had elapsed, the investigating magistrate began
to grow impatient, and asked what had become of the amateur detective.

"He is on the road," replied the corporal, "lying flat in the mud, and
mixing some plaster in a plate. He says he has nearly finished, and that
he is coming back presently."

He did in fact return almost instantly, joyous, triumphant, looking at
least twenty years younger. Lecoq followed him, carrying with the utmost
precaution a large basket.

"I have solved the riddle!" said Tabaret to the magistrate. "It is all
clear now, and as plain as noon-day. Lecoq, my lad, put the basket on
the table."

Gevrol at this moment returned from his expedition equally delighted.

"I am on the track of the man with the earrings," said he; "the boat
went down the river. I have obtained an exact description of the master
Gervais."

"What have you discovered, M. Tabaret!" asked the magistrate.

The old fellow carefully emptied upon the table the contents of the
basket,--a big lump of clay, several large sheets of paper, and three
or four small lumps of plaster yet damp. Standing behind this table, he
presented a grotesque resemblance to those mountebank conjurers who in
the public squares juggle the money of the lookers-on. His clothes had
greatly suffered; he was covered with mud up to the chin.

"In the first place," said he, at last, in a tone of affected modesty,
"robbery has had nothing to do with the crime that occupies our
attention."

"Oh! of course not!" muttered Gevrol.

"I shall prove it," continued old Tabaret, "by the evidence. By-and-by
I shall offer my humble opinion as to the real motive. In the second
place, the assassin arrived here before half-past nine; that is to
say, before the rain fell. No more than M. Gevrol have I been able to
discover traces of muddy footsteps; but under the table, on the spot
where his feet rested, I find dust. We are thus assured of the hour.
The widow did not in the least expect her visitor. She had commenced
undressing, and was winding up her cuckoo clock when he knocked."

"These are absolute details!" cried the commissary.

"But easily established," replied the amateur. "You see this cuckoo
clock above the secretary; it is one of those which run fourteen or
fifteen hours at most, for I have examined it. Now it is more than
probable, it is certain, that the widow wound it up every evening before
going to bed. How, then, is it that the clock has stopped at five?
Because she must have touched it. As she was drawing the chain, the
assassin knocked. In proof, I show this chair standing under the clock,
and on the seat a very plain foot-mark. Now look at the dress of the
victim; the body of it is off. In order to open the door more quickly,
she did not wait to put it on again, but hastily threw this old shawl
over her shoulders."

"By Jove!" exclaimed the corporal, evidently struck.

"The widow," continued the old fellow, "knew the person who knocked.
Her haste to open the door gives rise to this conjecture; what follows
proves it. The assassin then gained admission without difficulty. He
is a young man, a little above the middle height, elegantly dressed. He
wore on that evening a high hat. He carried an umbrella, and smoked a
trabucos cigar in a holder."

"Ridiculous!" cried Gevrol. "This is too much."

"Too much, perhaps," retorted old Tabaret. "At all events, it is the
truth. If you are not minute in your investigations, I cannot help it;
anyhow, I am, I search, and I find. Too much, say you? Well deign to
glance at these lumps of damp plaster. They represent the heels of the
boots worn by the assassin, of which I found a most perfect impression
near the ditch, where the key was picked up. On these sheets of paper,
I have marked in outline the imprint of the foot which I cannot take
up, because it is on some sand. Look! heel high, instep pronounced, sole
small and narrow,--an elegant boot, belonging to a foot well cared for
evidently. Look for this impression all along the path; and you will
find it again twice. Then you will find it five times repeated in the
garden where no one else had been; and these footprints prove, by
the way, that the stranger knocked not at the door, but at the
window-shutter, beneath which shone a gleam of light. At the entrance to
the garden, the man leapt to avoid a flower bed! the point of the foot,
more deeply imprinted than usual, shows it. He leapt more than two yards
with ease, proving that he is active, and therefore young."

Old Tabaret spoke in a low voice, clear and penetrating: and his eye
glanced from one to the other of his auditors, watching the impression
he was making.

"Does the hat astonish you, M. Gevrol?" he pursued. "Just look at the
circle traced in the dust on the marble top of the secretary. Is it
because I have mentioned his height that you are surprised? Take the
trouble to examine the tops of the wardrobes and you will see that the
assassin passed his hands across them. Therefore he is taller than I am.
Do not say that he got on a chair, for in that case, he would have seen
and would not have been obliged to feel. Are you astonished about the
umbrella? This lump of earth shows an admirable impression not only of
the end of the stick, but even of the little round piece of wood which
is always placed at the end of the silk. Perhaps you cannot get over the
statement that he smoked a cigar? Here is the end of a trabucos that
I found amongst the ashes. Has the end been bitten? No. Has it been
moistened with saliva? No. Then he who smoked it used a cigar-holder."

Lecoq was unable to conceal his enthusiastic admiration, and noiselessly
rubbed his hands together. The commissary appeared stupefied, while
M. Daburon was delighted. Gevrol's face, on the contrary, was sensibly
elongated. As for the corporal, he was overwhelmed.

"Now," continued the old fellow, "follow me closely. We have traced the
young man into the house. How he explained his presence at this hour, I
do not know; this much is certain, he told the widow he had not dined.
The worthy woman was delighted to hear it, and at once set to work to
prepare a meal. This meal was not for herself; for in the cupboard I
have found the remains of her own dinner. She had dined off fish; the
autopsy will confirm the truth of this statement. Besides you can see
yourselves, there is but one glass on the table, and one knife. But
who is this young man? Evidently the widow looked upon him as a man of
superior rank to her own; for in the cupboard is a table-cloth still
very clean. Did she use it? No. For her guest she brought out a clean
linen one, her very best. It is for him this magnificent glass, a
present, no doubt, and it is evident she did not often use this knife
with the ivory handle."

"That is all true," murmured M. Daburon, "very true."

"Now, then we have got the young man seated. He began by drinking a
glass of wine, while the widow was putting her pan on the fire. Then,
his heart failing him, he asked for brandy, and swallowed about five
small glassfuls. After an internal struggle of ten minutes (the time it
must have taken to cook the ham and eggs as much as they are), the young
man arose and approached the widow, who was squatting down and leaning
forward over her cooking. He stabbed her twice on the back; but she was
not killed instantly. She half arose seizing the assassin by the hands;
while he drew back, lifting her suddenly, and then hurling her down in
the position in which you see her. This short struggle is indicated by
the posture of the body; for, squatting down and being struck in the
back, it is naturally on her back that she ought to have fallen. The
murderer used a sharp narrow weapon, which was, unless I am deceived,
the end of a foil, sharpened, and with the button broken off. By
wiping the weapon upon his victim's skirt, the assassin leaves us this
indication. He was not, however, hurt in the struggle. The victim must
have clung with a death-grip to his hands; but, as he had not taken off
his lavender kid gloves,--"

"Gloves! Why this is romance," exclaimed Gevrol.

"Have you examined the dead woman's finger-nails, M. Gevrol? No. Well,
do so, and then tell me whether I am mistaken. The woman, now dead,
we come to the object of her assassination. What did this well-dressed
young gentleman want? Money? Valuables? No! no! a hundred times no! What
he wanted, what he sought, and what he found, were papers, documents,
letters, which he knew to be in the possession of the victim. To find
them, he overturned everything, upset the cupboards, unfolded the linen,
broke open the secretary, of which he could not find the key, and even
emptied the mattress of the bed. At last he found these documents. And
then do you know what he did with them? Why, burned them, of course; not
in the fire-place, but in the little stove in the front room. His end
accomplished, what does he do next? He flies, carrying with him all
that he finds valuable, to baffle detection, by suggesting a robbery. He
wrapped everything he found worth taking in the napkin which was to have
served him at dinner, and blowing out the candle, he fled, locking the
door on the outside, and throwing the key into a ditch. And that is
all."

"M. Tabaret," said the magistrate, "your investigation is admirable; and
I am persuaded your inferences are correct."

"Ah!" cried Lecoq, "is he not colossal, my old Tirauclair?"

"Pyramidal!" cried Gevrol ironically. "I fear, however, your
well-dressed young man must have been just a little embarrassed in
carrying a bundle covered with a snow white napkin, which could be so
easily seen from a distance.

"He did not carry it a hundred leagues," responded old Tabaret. "You may
well believe, that, to reach the railway station, he was not fool enough
to take the omnibus. No, he returned on foot by the shortest way, which
borders the river. Now on reaching the Seine, unless he is more knowing
than I take him to be, his first care was to throw this tell-tale bundle
into the water."

"Do you believe so, M. Tirauclair?" asked Gevrol.

"I don't mind making a bet on it; and the best evidence of my belief
is, that I have sent three men, under the surveillance of a gendarme, to
drag the Seine at the nearest spot from here. If they succeed in finding
the bundle, I have promised them a recompense."