Within an Inch of His Life

E >> Emile Gaboriau >> Within an Inch of His Life


At last, however, something seemed to have been aroused in him, which
looked like the instinct of a domesticated animal. His attachment to
the countess resembled that of a dog, even in the capers and cries with
which he greeted her whenever he saw her. Often, when she went out, he
accompanied her, running and frolicking around her just like a dog. He
was also very fond of little girls, and seemed to resent it when he was
kept from them: for people were afraid his nervous attacks might affect
the children.

With time he had also become capable of performing some simple service.
He could be intrusted with certain messages: he could water the flowers,
summon a servant, or even carry a letter to the post-office at Brechy.
His progress in this respect was so marked, that some of the more
cunning peasants began to suspect that Cocoleu was not so "innocent,"
after all, as he looked, and that he was cleverly playing the fool in
order to enjoy life easily.

"We have him at last," cried several voices at once. "Here he is; here
he is!"

The crowd made way promptly; and almost immediately a young man
appeared, led and pushed forward by several persons. Cocoleu's clothes,
all in disorder, showed clearly that he had offered a stout resistance.
He was a youth of about eighteen years, very tall, quite beardless,
excessively thin, and so loosely jointed, that he looked like a
hunchback. A mass of reddish hair came down his low, retreating
forehead. His small eyes, his enormous mouth bristling with sharp teeth,
his broad flat nose, and his immense ears, gave to his face a strange
idiotic expression, and to his whole appearance a most painful brutish
air.

"What must we do with him?" asked the peasants of the mayor.

"We must take him before the magistrate, my friends," replied M.
Seneschal,--"down there in that cottage, where you have carried the
count."

"And we'll make him talk," threatened his captors. "You hear! Go on,
quick!"



IV.

M. Galpin and the doctor had both considered it a point of honor who
should show the most perfect indifference; and thus they had betrayed
by no sign their curiosity to know what was going on out doors. Dr.
Seignebos was on the point of resuming the operation; and, as coolly as
if he had been in his own rooms at home, he was washing the sponge which
he had just used, and wiping his instruments. The magistrate, on the
other hand, was standing in the centre of the room, his arms crossed,
his eyes fixed upon the infinite, apparently. It may be he was thinking
of his star which had at last brought him that famous criminal case for
which he had ardently longed many a year.

Count Claudieuse, however, was very far from sharing their reserve. He
was tossing about on his bed; and as soon as the mayor and his friend
reappeared, looking quite upset, he exclaimed,--

"What does that uproar mean?"

And, when he had heard of the calamity, he added,--

"Great God! And I was complaining of my losses. Two men killed! That is
a real misfortune. Poor men! to die because they were so brave,--Bolton
hardly thirty years old; Guillebault, a father of a family, who leaves
five children, and not a cent!"

The countess, coming in at that moment, heard his last words.

"As long as we have a mouthful of bread," she said in a voice full of
deep emotion, "neither Bolton's mother, nor Guillebault's children,
shall ever know what want is."

She could not say another word; for at that moment the peasants crowded
into the room, pushing the prisoner before them.

"Where is the magistrate?" they asked. "Here is a witness!"

"What, Cocoleu!" exclaimed the count.

"Yes, he knows something: he said so himself. We want him to tell it to
the magistrate. We want the incendiary to be caught."

Dr. Seignebos had frowned fiercely. He execrated Cocoleu, whose sight
recalled to him that great failure which the good people of Sauveterre
were not likely to forget soon.

"You do not really mean to examine him?" he asked, turning to M. Galpin.

"Why not?" answered the magistrate dryly.

"Because he is an imbecile, sir, an idiot. Because he cannot possibly
understand your questions, or the importance of his answers."

"He may give us a valuable hint, nevertheless."

"He? A man who has no sense? You don't really think so. The law cannot
attach any importance to the evidence of a fool."

M. Galpin betrayed his impatience by an increase of stiffness, as he
replied,--

"I know my duty, sir."

"And I," replied the physician,--"I also know what I have to do. You
have summoned me to assist you in this investigation. I obey; and I
declare officially, that the mental condition of this unfortunate man
makes his evidence utterly worthless. I appeal to the commonwealth
attorney."

He had hoped for a word of encouragement from M. Daubigeon; but nothing
came. Then he went on,--

"Take care, sir, or you may get yourself into trouble. What would you do
if this poor fellow should make a formal charge against any one? Could
you attach any weight to his word?"

The peasants were listening with open mouths. One of them said,--

"Oh! Cocoleu is not so innocent as he looks."

"He can say very well what he wants to say, the scamp!" added another.

"At all events, I am indebted to him for the life of my children," said
the count gently. "He thought of them when I was unconscious, and when
no one else remembered them. Come, Cocoleu, come nearer, my friend,
don't be afraid: there is no one here to hurt you."

It was very well the count used such kind words; for Cocoleu was
thoroughly terrified by the brutal treatment he had received, and was
trembling in all his limbs.

"I am--not--a--afraid," he stammered out.

"Once more I protest," said the physician.

He had found out that he stood not alone in his opinion. Count
Claudieuse came to his assistance, saying,--

"I really think it might be dangerous to question Cocoleu."

But the magistrate was master of the situation, and conscious of all the
powers conferred upon him by the laws of France in such cases.

"I must beg, gentlemen," he said, in a tone which did not allow of any
reply,--"I must beg to be permitted to act in my own way."

And sitting down, he asked Cocoleu,--

"Come, my boy, listen to me, and try to understand what I say. Do you
know what has happened at Valpinson?"

"Fire," replied the idiot.

"Yes, my friend, fire, which burns down the house of your
benefactor,--fire, which has killed two good men. But that is not all:
they have tried to murder the count. Do you see him there in his bed,
wounded, and covered with blood? Do you see the countess, how she
suffers?"

Did Cocoleu follow him? His distorted features betrayed nothing of what
might be going on within him.

"Nonsense!" growled the doctor, "what obstinacy! What folly!"

M. Galpin heard him, and said angrily,--

"Sir, do not force me to remind you that I have not far from here, men
whose duty it is to see that my authority is respected here."

Then, turning again to the poor idiot, he went on,--

"All these misfortunes are the work of a vile incendiary. You hate him,
don't you; you detest him, the rascal!"

"Yes," said Cocoleu.

"You want him to be punished, don't you?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Well, then you must help me to find him out, so that the gendarmes may
catch him, and put him in jail. You know who it is; you have told these
people and"--

He paused, and after a moment, as Cocoleu kept silent, he asked,--

"But, now I think of it, whom has this poor fellow talked to?"

Not one of the peasants could tell. They inquired; but no answer came.
Perhaps Cocoleu had never said what he was reported to have said.

"The fact is," said one of the tenants at Valpinson, "that the poor
devil, so to say, never sleeps, and that he is roaming about all night
around the house and the farm buildings."

This was a new light for M. Galpin; suddenly changing the form of his
interrogatory, he asked Cocoleu,--

"Where did you spend the night?"

"In--in--the--court--yard."

"Were you asleep when the fire broke out?"

"No."

"Did you see it commence?"

"Yes."

"How did it commence?"

The idiot looked fixedly at the Countess Claudieuse with the timid and
abject expression of a dog who tries to read something in his master's
eyes.

"Tell us, my friend," said the Countess gently,--"tell us."

A flash of intelligence shone in Cocoleu's eyes.

"They--they set it on fire," he stammered.

"On purpose?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"A gentleman."

There was not a person present at this extraordinary scene who did not
anxiously hold his breath as the word was uttered. The doctor alone kept
cool, and exclaimed,--

"Such an examination is sheer folly!"

But the magistrate did not seem to hear his words; and, turning to
Cocoleu, he asked him, in a deeply agitated tone of voice--

"Did you see the gentleman?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who he is?"

"Very--very--well."

"What is his name?"

"Oh, yes!"

"What is his name? Tell us."

Cocoleu's features betrayed the fearful anguish of his mind.
He hesitated, and at last he answered, making a violent
effort,--"Bois--Bois--Boiscoran!"

The name was received with murmurs of indignation and incredulous
laughter. There was not a shadow of doubt or of suspicion. The peasants
said,--

"M. de Boiscoran an incendiary! Who does he think will believe that
story?"

"It is absurd!" said Count Claudieuse.

"Nonsense!" repeated the mayor and his friend.

Dr. Siegnebos had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them with an
air of intense satisfaction.

"What did I tell you?" he exclaimed. "But the gentleman did not
condescend to attach any importance to my suggestions."

The magistrate was by far the most excited man in the crowd. He had
turned excessively pale, and made, visibly, the greatest efforts to
preserve his equanimity. The commonwealth attorney leaned over towards
him, and whispered,--

"If I were in your place, I would stop here, and consider the answer as
not given."

But M. Galpin was one of those men who are blinded by self-conceit,
and who would rather be cut to pieces than admit that they have been
mistaken. He answered,--

"I shall go on."

Then turning once more to Cocoleu, in the midst of so deep a silence
that the buzzing of a fly would have been distinctly heard, he asked,--

"Do you know, my boy, what you say? Do you know that you are accusing a
man of a horrible crime?"

Whether Cocoleu understood, or not, he was evidently deeply agitated.
Big drops of perspiration rolled slowly down his temples; and nervous
shocks agitated his limbs, and convulsed his features.

"I, I--am--telling the--truth!" he said at last.

"M. de. Boiscoran has set Valpinson on fire?"

"Yes."

"How did he do it?"

Cocoleu's restless eyes wandered incessantly from the count, who looked
indignant, to the countess, who seemed to listen with painful surprise.
The magistrate repeated,--

"Speak!"

After another moment's hesitation, the idiot began to explain what
he had seen; and it took him many minutes to state, amid countless
contortions, and painful efforts to speak, that he had seen M. de
Boiscoran pull out some papers from his pocket, light them with a
match, put them under a rick of straw near by, and push the burning mass
towards two enormous piles of wood which were in close contact with a
vat full of spirits.

"This is sheer nonsense!" cried the doctor, thus giving words to what
they all seemed to feel.

But M. Galpin had mastered his excitement. He said solemnly,--

"At the first sign of applause or of displeasure, I shall send for the
gendarmes, and have the room cleared."

Then, turning once more to Cocoleu, he said,--

"Since you saw M. de Boiscoran so distinctly, tell us how he was
dressed."

"He had light trousers on," replied the idiot, stammering still most
painfully, "a dark-brown shooting-jacket, and a big straw hat. His
trousers were stuffed into his boots."

Two or three peasants looked at each other, as if they had at last hit
upon a suspicious fact. The costume which Cocoleu had so accurately
described was well known to them all.

"And when he had kindled the fire," said the magistrate again, "what did
he do next?"

"He hid behind the woodpile."

"And then?"

"He loaded his gun, and, when master came out, he fired."

Count Claudieuse was so indignant that he forgot the pain which his
wounds caused him, and raised himself on his bed.

"It is monstrous," he exclaimed, "to allow an idiot to charge an
honorable man with such a crime! If he really saw M. de Boiscoran set
the house on fire, and hide himself in order to murder me, why did he
not come and warn me?"

Mr. Galpin repeated the question submissively, to the great amazement of
the mayor and M. Daubigeon.

"Why did you not give warning?" he asked Cocoleu.

But the efforts which the unfortunate man had made during the last
half-hour had exhausted his little strength. He broke out into stupid
laughter; and almost instantly one of his fearful nervous attacks
overcame him: he fell down yelling, and had to be carried away.

The magistrate had risen, pale and deeply excited, but evidently
meditating on what was to be done next. The commonwealth attorney asked
him in an undertone what he was going to do; and the lawyer replied,--

"Prosecute!"

"What?"

"Can I do otherwise in my position? God is my witness that I tried
my best, by urging this poor idiot, to prove the absurdity of his
accusation. But the result has disappointed me."

"And now?"

"Now I can no longer hesitate. There have been ten witnesses present at
the examination. My honor is at stake. I must establish either the guilt
or the innocence of the man whom Cocoleu accuses." Immediately, walking
up to the count's bed, he asked,--

"Will you have the kindness, Count Claudieuse, to tell me what your
relations are to M. de Boiscoran?"

Surprise and indignation caused the wounded man to blush deeply.

"Can it be possible, sir, that you believe the words of that idiot?"

"I believe nothing," answered the magistrate. "My duty is to unravel the
truth; and I mean to do it."

"The doctor has told you what the state of Cocoleu's mind is?"

"Count, I beg you will answer my question."

Count Claudieuse looked angry; but he replied promptly,--

"My relations with M. de Boiscoran are neither good nor bad. We have
none."

"It is reported, I have heard it myself, that you are on bad terms."

"On no terms at all. I never leave Valpinson, and M. de Boiscoran spends
nine months of the year in Paris. He has never called at my house, and I
have never been in his."

"You have been overheard speaking of him in unmeasured terms."

"That may be. We are neither of the same age, nor have we the same
tastes or the same opinions. He is young: I am old. He likes Paris and
the great world: I am fond of solitude and hunting. I am a Legitimist:
he used to be an Orleanist, and now he is a Republican. I believe that
the descendant of our old kings alone can save the country; and he
is convinced that the happiness of France is possible only under a
Republic. But two men may be enemies, and yet esteem each other. M. de
Boiscoran is an honorable man; he has done his duty bravely in the war,
he has fought well, and has been wounded."

M. Galpin noted down these answers with extreme care. When he had done
so, he continued,--

"The question is not one of political opinions only. You have had
personal difficulties with M. de Boiscoran."

"Of no importance."

"I beg pardon: you have been at law."

"Our estates adjoin each other. There is an unlucky brook between us,
which is a source of constant trouble to the neighbors."

M. Galpin shook his head, and added,--

"These are not the only difficulties you have had with each other.
Everybody in the country knows that you have had violent altercations."

Count Claudieuse seemed to be in great distress.

"It is true: we have used hard words. M. de Boiscoran had two wretched
dogs that were continually escaping from his kennels, and came hunting
in my fields. You cannot imagine how much game they destroyed."

"Exactly so. And one day you met M. de Boiscoran, and you warned him
that you would shoot his dogs."

"I must confess I was furious. But I was wrong, a thousand times wrong:
I did threaten"--

"That is it. You were both of you armed. You threatened one another: he
actually aimed at you. Don't deny it. A number of persons have seen it;
and I know it. He has told me so himself."



V.

There was not a person in the whole district who did not know of what
a fearful disease poor Cocoleu was suffering; and everybody knew, also,
that it was perfectly useless to try and help him. The two men who had
taken him out had therefore laid him simply on a pile of wet straw, and
then they had left him to himself, eager as they were to see and hear
what was going on.

It must be said, in justice to the several hundred peasants who were
crowding around the smoking ruins of Valpinson, that they treated the
madman who had accused M. de Boiscoran of such a crime, neither with
cruel jokes nor with fierce curses. Unfortunately, first impulses,
which are apt to be good impulses, do not last long. One of those idle
good-for-nothings, drunkards, envious scamps who are found in every
community, in the country as well as in the city, cried out,--

"And why not?"

These few words opened at once a door to all kinds of bold guesses.

Everybody had heard something about the quarrel between Count Claudieuse
and M. de Boiscoran. It was well known, moreover, that the provocation
had always come from the count, and that the latter had invariably given
way in the end. Why, therefore, might not M. de Boiscoran, impatient at
last, have resorted to such means in order to avenge himself on a man
whom they thought he must needs hate, and whom he probably feared at the
same time?

"Perhaps he would not do it, because he is a nobleman, and because he is
rich?" they added sneeringly.

The next step was, of course, to look out for circumstances which might
support such a theory; and the opportunity was not lacking. Groups were
formed; and soon two men and a woman declared aloud that they could
astonish the world if they chose to talk. They were urged to tell what
they knew; and, of course, they refused. But they had said too much
already. Willing or not willing, they were carried up to the house,
where, at that very moment, M. Galpin was examining Count Claudieuse.
The excited crowd made such a disturbance, that M. Seneschal, trembling
at the idea of a new accident, rushed out to the door.

"What is it now?" he asked.

"More witnesses," replied the peasants. "Here are some more witnesses."

The mayor turned round, and, after having exchanged glances with M.
Daubigeon, he said to the magistrate,--

"They are bringing you some more witnesses, sir."

No doubt M. Galpin was little pleased at the interruption; but he knew
the people well enough to bear in mind, that, unless he took them at the
moment when they were willing to talk, he might never be able to get any
thing out of them at any other time.

"We shall return some other time to our conversation," he said to Count
Claudieuse.

Then, replying to M. Seneschal, he said,--

"Let the witnesses come in, but one by one."

The first who entered was the only son of a well-to-do farmer in
the village of Brechy, called Ribot. He was a young fellow of about
twenty-five, broad-shouldered, with a very small head, a low brow, and
formidable crimson ears. For twenty miles all around, he was reputed to
be an irresistible beau,--a reputation of which he was very proud.
After having asked him his name, his first names, and his age, M. Galpin
said,--

"What do you know?"

The young man straightened himself, and with a marvellously conceited
air, which set all the peasants a-laughing, he replied,--

"I was out that night on some little private business of my own. I was
on the other side of the chateau of Boiscoran. Somebody was waiting for
me, and I was behind time: so I cut right across the marsh. I knew the
rains of the last days would have filled all the ditches; but, when a
man is out on such important business as mine was, he can always find
his way"--

"Spare us those tedious details," said the magistrate coldly. The
handsome fellow looked surprised, rather than offended, by the
interruption, and then went on,--

"As your Honor desires. Well, it was about eight o'clock, or a little
more, and it was growing dark, when I reached the Seille swamps. They
were overflowing; and the water was two inches above the stones of
the canal. I asked myself how I should get across without spoiling my
clothes, when I saw M. de Boiscoran coming towards me from the other
side."

"Are you quite sure it was he?"

"Why, I should think so! I talked to him. But stop, he was not afraid of
getting wet. Without much ado, he rolled up his trousers, stuffed them
into the tops of his tall boots, and went right through. Just then he
saw me, and seemed to be surprised. I was as much so as he was. 'Why,
is it you, sir?' I said. He replied 'Yes: I have to see somebody at
Brechy.' That was very probably so; still I said again, 'But you
have chosen a queer way.' He laughed. 'I did not know the swamps were
overflowed,' he answered, 'and I thought I would shoot some snipes.' As
he said this, he showed me his gun. At that moment I had nothing to say;
but now, when I think it over, it looks queer to me."

M. Galpin had written down the statement as fast as it was given. Then
he asked,--

"How was M. de Boiscoran dressed?"

"Stop. He had grayish trousers on, a shooting-jacket of brown velveteen,
and a broad-brimmed panama hat."

The count and the countess looked distressed and almost overcome; nor
did the mayor and his friend seem to be less troubled. One circumstance
in Ribot's evidence seemed to have struck them with peculiar force,--the
fact that he had seen M. de Boiscoran push his trousers inside his
boots.

"You can go," said M. Galpin to the young man. "Let another witness come
in."

The next one was an old man of bad reputation, who lived alone in an old
hut two miles from Valpinson. He was called Father Gaudry. Unlike young
Ribot, who had shown great assurance, the old man looked humble and
cringing in his dirty, ill-smelling rags. After having given his name,
he said,--

"It might have been eleven o'clock at night, and I was going through the
forest of Rochepommier, along one of the little by-paths"--

"You were stealing wood!" said the magistrate sternly.

"Great God, what an idea!" cried the old man, raising his hands to
heaven. "How can you say such a thing! I steal wood! No, my dear sir,
I was very quietly going to sleep in the forest, so as to be up
with daylight, and gather champignons and other mushrooms to sell at
Sauveterre. Well, I was trotting along, when, all of a sudden, I hear
footsteps behind me. Naturally, I was frightened."

"Because you were stealing!"

"Oh, no! my dear sir; only, at night, you understand. Well, I hid behind
a tree; and almost at the same moment I saw M. de Boiscoran pass by. I
recognized him perfectly in spite of the dark; for he seemed to be in
a great rage, talked loud to himself, swore, gesticulated, and tore
handfuls of leaves from the branches."

"Did he have a gun?"

"Yes, my dear sir; for that was the very thing that frightened me so. I
thought he was a keeper."

The third and last witness was a good old woman, Mrs. Courtois, whose
little farm lay on the other side of the forest of Rochepommier. When
she was asked, she hesitated a moment, and then she said,--

"I do not know much; but I will tell you all I do know. As we expected
to have a house full of workmen a few days hence, and as I was going to
bake bread to-morrow, I was going with my ass to the mill on Sauveterre
Mountain to fetch flour. The miller had not any ready; but he told me,
if I could wait, he would let me have some: and so I staid to supper.
About ten o'clock, they gave me a bag full of flour. The boys put it
on my ass, and I went home. I was about half-way, and it was, perhaps,
eleven o'clock, when, just at the edge of the forest of Rochepommier, my
ass stumbled, and the bag fell off. I had a great deal of trouble, for I
was not strong enough to lift it alone; and just then a man came out
of the woods, quite near me. I called to him, and he came. It was M. de
Boiscoran: I ask him to help me; and at once, without losing a moment,
he puts his gun down, lifts the bag from the ground, and puts it on my
ass. I thank him. He says, 'Welcome,' and--that is all."

The mayor had been all this time standing in the door of the chamber,
performing the humble duty of a doorkeeper, and barring the entrance to
the eager and curious crowd outside. When Mrs. Courtois retired, quite
bewildered by her own words, and regretting what she had said, he called
out,--

"Is there any one else who knows any thing?"

As nobody appeared, he closed the door, and said curtly,--

"Well, then, you can go home now, my friends. Let the law have free
course."

The law, represented by the magistrate, was a prey at that moment to the
most cruel perplexity. M. Galpin was utterly overcome by consternation.
He sat at the little table, on which he had been writing, his head
resting on his hands, thinking, apparently, how he could find a way out
of this labyrinth.