Within an Inch of His Life

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


But what are twelve hundred persons?

Long before the hour fixed for the opening of the court, every thing is
full to overflowing. A pin might be thrown into the room, and it could
not fall to the ground.

Not an inch of space is lost. All around, along the wall men are
standing in close ranks. On both sides of the platform, chairs have been
put, which are occupied by a large number of our first ladies in good
society, not only of Sauveterre, however, but also of the neighborhood
and even other cites. Some of them appear in magnificent toilettes.

A thousand reports are current, a thousand conjectures are formed, which
we shall take care not to report. Why should we? Let us say, however,
that the accused has not availed himself of his right to reject a
certain number of jurymen. He has accepted all the names which were
drawn by lot, and which the prosecuting attorney did not object to.

We obtained this information from an attorney, a friend of ours; and,
just as he had told us all about it, a great noise rose at the door,
which was followed by rapid moving of chairs, and half-smothered
exclamations.

It was the family of the accused, who had come in, and now occupied the
seats assigned them close by the platform.

The Marquis de Boiscoran had on his arm Miss Chandore, who wore with
great grace and dignity a dark gray dress, trimmed with cherry-colored
ribbons. M. de Chandore escorted the Marchioness de Boiscoran. The
marquis and the baron looked cold and reserved. The mother of the
accused appears utterly overcome. Miss Chandore, on the contrary, is
lively, does not seem in the least concerned, and returns with a
bright smile the few greetings she receives from various parts of the
court-room.

But soon they are no longer an object of curiosity.

The attention of all is now directed towards a large table standing
before the judges, and on which may be seen a number of articles covered
by large red cloth.

These are the articles to be used in evidence.

In the meantime it strikes eleven o'clock. The sheriff's officers move
about the room, seeing that every thing is in order.

Then a small door opens on the left, and the counsel for the defence
enter.

Our readers know who they are. One is M. Magloire, the ornament of our
bar; the other, an advocate from the capital, M. Folgat, quite young,
but already famous.

M. Magloire looks as he does on his best days, and smilingly converses
with the mayor of Sauveterre; while M. Folgat opens his blue bag, and
consults his papers.

Half-past eleven!

An usher announces,--

The court.

M. Domini takes the chair. M. Gransiere occupies the seat of the
prosecuting attorney.

Behind them the jurymen sit down, looking grave and solemn.

Everybody rises, everybody strains his eyes to see, and stands on
tiptoe. Some persons in the back rows even get upon their chairs.

The president has ordered the prisoner to be brought in.

He appears.

He is dressed in black, and with great elegance. It is noticed that he
wears in his buttonhole the ribbon of the Legion of Honor.

He looks pale; but his eye is clear and open, full of confidence, yet
not defiant. His carriage is proud, though melancholy.

He has hardly taken his seat when a gentleman passes over three rows of
chairs, and, in spite of the officers of the court, succeeds in shaking
hands with him. It is Dr. Seignebos.

The president orders the sheriff to proclaim silence; and, after
having reminded the audience that all expressions of approbation or
disapprobation are strictly prohibited, he turns to the accused, and
asks him,--

"Tell me your first names, your family name, your age, your profession,
and your domicile."

The accused replies,--

"Louis Trivulce Jacques de Boiscoran, twenty-seven years, land-owner,
residing at Boiscoran, district of Sauveterre."

"Sit down, and listen to the charges which are brought against you."

The clerk, M. Mechinet, thereupon reads the charges, which, in their
terrible simplicity, cause a shudder to pass through the whole audience.

We shall not repeat them here, as all the incidents which they relate
are well known to our readers.


[Examination of the Accused.]

PRESIDENT.--Accused, rise and answer clearly. During the preliminary
investigation, you have refused to answer several questions. Now the
matter must be cleared up. And I am bound to tell you it is to your
interest to answer frankly.

ACCUSED.--No one desires more than I do that the truth be known. I am
ready to answer.

P.--Why were you so reticent in your first examination?

A.--I though it important for my interests to answer only in court.

P.--You have heard of what crimes you are accused?

A.--I am innocent. And, first of all, I beg you will allow me to say one
thing. The crime committed at Valpinson is an atrocious, cowardly crime;
but it is at the same time an absurdly stupid crime, more like the
unconscious act of a madman. Now, I have always been looked upon as not
lacking exactly in intelligence.

P.--That is a discussion.

A.--Still, Mr. President--

P.--Hereafter you shall have full liberty to state your argument. For
the present you must be content to answer the questions which I shall
ask you.

A.--I submit.

P.--Were you not soon to be married?

At this question all eyes are turned towards Miss Chandore, who blushes
till she is as red as a poppy, but does not cast down her eyes.

A.--(In a low voice.) Yes.

P.--Did you not write to your betrothed a few hours before the crime was
committed?

A.--Yes, sir; and I sent her my letter by the son of one of my tenants,
Michael.

P.--What did you write to her?

A.--That important business would prevent me from spending the evening
with her.

P.--What was that business?

At the moment when the accused opened his lips to reply, the president
stopped him by a gesture, and said,--

P.--Take care! You were asked this question during the preliminary
investigation, and you replied that you had to go to Brechy to see your
wood-merchant.

A.--I did indeed make that reply on the spur of the moment. It was not
exact.

P.--Why did you tell a falsehood?

A.--(After an expression of indignation, which was noticed by all.) I
could not believe that I was in danger. It seemed to me impossible that
I should be reached by an accusation, which nevertheless, has brought
me into this court. Hence I did not deem it necessary to make my private
affairs public.

P.--But you very soon found out that you were in danger?

A.--Yes, I did.

P.--Why did you not tell the truth then?

A.--Because the magistrate who carried on the investigation had been too
intimate a friend of mine to inspire me with confidence.

P.--Explain yourself more fully.

A.--I must ask leave to say no more. I might, in speaking of M. Galpin,
be found to be wanting in moderation.

A low murmur accompanies this reply made by the accused.

P.--Such murmurs are improper, and I remind the audience of the respect
due to the court.

M. Gransiere, the prosecuting attorney, rises,--

"We cannot tolerate such recriminations against a magistrate who has
done his duty nobly, and in spite of the pain it caused him. If the
accused had well-founded objections to the magistrate, why did he not
make them known? He cannot plead ignorance: he knows the law, he is a
lawyer himself. His counsel, moreover, are men of experience."

M. Magloire replies, in his seat,--

"We were of the opinion that the accused ought to ask for a change of
venue. He declined to follow our advice, being confident, as he said,
that his cause was a good one."

M. Gransiere, resuming his seat,--

"The jury will judge of this plea."

P.--(To the accused.) And now are you ready to tell the truth with
regard to that business which prevented you from spending the evening
with your betrothed?

A.--Yes, sir. My wedding was to take place at the church in Brechy, and
I had to make my arrangements with the priest about the ceremony. I had,
besides, to fulfil certain religious duties. The priest at Brechy,
who is a friend of mine, will tell you, that, although no day had
been fixed, it had been agreed upon between us that I should come to
confession on one of the evenings of the week since he insisted upon it.

The audience, which had been expecting some very exciting revelations,
seemed to be much disappointed; and ironical laughter was heard in
various directions.

P.--(In a severe tone of voice.) This laughter is indecent and
objectionable. Sheriff, take out the persons who presume to laugh. And
once more I give notice, that, at the first disturbance, I shall order
the room to be cleared.

Then, turning again to the accused, he said,--

P.--Go on!

A.--I went therefore to the priest at Brechy, that evening: unluckily
there was no one at home at the parsonage when I got there. I was
ringing the third or fourth time in vain, when a little peasant-girl
came by, who told me that she had just met the priest at the Marshalls'
Cross-roads. I thought at once I would go and meet him, and went in
that direction. But I walked more than four miles without meeting him. I
thought the girl must have been mistaken, and went home again.

P.--Is that your explanation?

A.--Yes.

P.--And you think it a plausible one?

A.--I have promised to say not what is plausible, but what is true.
I may confess, however, that, precisely because the explanation is so
simple, I did not venture at first to give it. And yet if no crime had
been committed, and I had said the day after, "Yesterday I went to see
the priest at Brechy, and did not find him," who would have seen any
thing unnatural in my statement?

P.--And, in order to fulfil so simple a duty, you chose a roundabout
way, which is not only troublesome, but actually dangerous, right across
the swamps?

A.--I chose the shortest way.

P.--Then, why were you so frightened upon meeting young Ribot at the
Seille Canal?

A.--I was not frightened, but simply surprised, as one is apt to be
when suddenly meeting a man where no one is expected. And, if I was
surprised, young Ribot was not less so.

P.--You see that you hoped to meet no one?

A.--Pardon me, I did not say so. To expect is not the same as to hope.

P.--Why, then did you take such pains to explain your being there?

A.--I gave no explanations. Young Ribot first told me, laughingly, where
he was going, and then I told him that I was going to Brechy.

P.--You told him, also, that you were going through the marshes to shoot
birds, and, at the same time you showed him your gun?

A.--That may be. But is that any proof against me? I think just the
contrary. If I had had such criminal intentions as the prosecution
suggests, I should certainly have gone back after meeting people,
knowing that I was exposed to great danger. But I was only going to see
my friend, the priest.

P.--And for such a visit you took your gun?

A.--My land lies in the woods and marshes, and there was not a day when
I did not bag a rabbit or a waterfowl. Everybody in the neighborhood
will tell you that I never went out without a gun.

P.--And on your return, why did you go through the forest of
Rochepommier?

A.--Because, from the place where I was on the road, it was probably the
shortest way to Boiscoran. I say probably, because just then I did not
think much about that. A man who is taking a walk would be very much
embarrassed, in the majority of cases, if he had to give a precise
account why he took one road rather than another.

P.--You were seen in the forest by a woodcutter, called Gaudry?

A.--So I was told by the magistrate.

P.--That witness deposes that you were in a state of great excitement.
You were tearing leaves from the branches, you were talking loud.

A.--I certainly was very much vexed at having lost my evening, and
particularly vexed at having relied on the little peasant-girl. It is
quite likely that I might have exclaimed, as I walked along, "Plague
upon my friend, the priest, who goes and dines in town!" or some such
words.

There was a smile in the assembly, but not such as to attract the
president's attention.

P.--You know that the priest of Brechy was dining out that day?

M. Magloire rose, and said,--

"It is through us, sir, that the accused has found out this fact. When
he told us how he had spent the evening, we went to see the priest
at Brechy, who told us how it came about that neither he nor his
old servant was at the parsonage. At our request the priest has been
summoned. We shall also produce another priest, who at that time passed
the Marshalls' Cross-roads, and was the one whom the little girl had
seen."

Having made a sign to counsel to sit down again, the president once more
turns to the accused.

P.--The woman Courtois who met you deposes that you looked very curious.
You did not speak to her: you were in great haste to escape from her.

A.--The night was much too dark for the woman to see my face. She asked
me to render her a slight service, and I did so. I did not speak to her,
because I had nothing to say to her. I did not leave her suddenly, but
only got ahead of her, because her ass walked very slowly.

At a sign from the president, the ushers raise the red cloth which cover
the objects on the table.

Great curiosity is manifested by the whole audience; and all rise, and
stretch their necks to see better. On the table are displayed clothes,
a pair of velveteen trousers, a shooting-jacket of maroon-colored
velveteen, an old straw hat, and a pair of dun-colored leather boots. By
their side lie a double-barrelled gun, packages of cartridges, two bowls
filled with small-shot, and, finally, a large china basin, with a dark
sediment at the bottom.

P.--(Showing these objects to the accused.) Are those the clothes which
you wore the evening of the crime?

A.--Yes, sir.

P.--A curious costume in which to visit a venerable ecclesiastic, and to
perform religious duties.

A.--The priest at Brechy was my friend. Our intimacy will explain, even
if it does not justify, the liberty I took.

P.--Do you also recognize this basin? The water has been allowed to
evaporate, and the residue alone remains there on the bottom.

A.--It is true, that, when the magistrate appeared at my house, he found
there the basin full of dark water, which was thick with half-burnt
_debris_. He asked me about this water, and I did not hesitate a moment
to tell him that I had washed my hands in it the evening before, after
my return home.

Is it not evident, that if I had been guilty, my first effort would
have been to put every evidence of my crime out of the way? And yet this
circumstance is looked upon as the strongest evidence of my guilt, and
the prosecution produces it as the most serious charge against me.

P.--It is very strong and serious indeed.

A.--Well, nothing can be more easily explained than that. I am a great
smoker. When I left home the evening of the crime, I took cigars in
abundance; but, when I was about to light one, I found that I had no
matches.

M. Magloire rises, and says,--

"And I wish to point out that this is not one of those explanations
which are invented, after the fact, to meet the necessities of a
doubtful case. We have absolute and overwhelming proof of it. M. de
Boiscoran did not have the little match-box which he usually carries
about him, at that time, because he had left it at M. de Chandore's
house, on the mantelpiece, where I have seen it, and where it still is."

P.--That is sufficient, M. Magloire. Let the defendant go on.

A.--I wanted to smoke; and so I resorted to the usual expedient, which
all sportsmen know. I tore open one of my cartridges, put, instead of
the lead, a piece of paper inside, and set it on fire.

P.--And thus you get a light?

A.--Not always, but certainly in one case out of three.

P.--And the operation blackens the hands?

A.--Not the operation itself. But, when I had lit my cigar, I could not
throw away the burning paper as it was: I might have kindled a regular
fire.

P.--In the marshes?

A.--But, sir, I smoked five or six cigars during the evening, which
means that I had to repeat the operation a dozen times at least, and
in different places,--in the woods and on the high-road. Each time I
quenched the fire with my fingers; and, as the powder is always greasy,
my hands naturally became soon as black as those of a charcoal-burner.

The accused gives this explanation in a perfectly natural but still
rather excited manner, which seems to make a great impression.

P.--Let us go on to your gun. Do you recognize it?

A.--Yes, sir. May I look at it?

P.--Yes.

The accused takes up the gun with feverish eagerness, snaps the two
cocks, and puts one of his fingers inside the barrels.

He turns crimson, and, bending down to his counsel, says a few words to
them so quickly and so low, that they do not reach us.

P.--What is the matter?

M. MAGLOIRE.--(Rising.) A fact has become patent which at once
establishes the innocence of M. de Boiscoran. By providential
intercession, his servant Anthony had cleaned the gun two days before
the day of the crime. It appears now that one of the barrels is still
clean, and in good condition. Hence it cannot be M. de Boiscoran who has
fired twice at Count Claudieuse.

During this time the accused has gone up to the table on which the
objects are lying. He wraps his handkerchief around the ramrod, slips it
into one of the barrels, draws it out again, and shows that it is hardly
soiled.

The whole audience is in a state of great excitement.

P.--Do the same thing to the other barrel.

The accused does it. The handkerchief remains clean.

P.--You see, and still you have told us that you had burnt, perhaps, a
dozen cartridges to light your cigars. But the prosecution had foreseen
this objection, and they are prepared to meet it. Sheriff, bring in the
witness, Maucroy.

Our readers all know this gentleman, whose beautiful collection of
weapons, sporting-articles, and fishing-tackle, is one of the ornaments
of our great Square. He is dressed up, and without hesitation takes the
required oath.

P.--Repeat your deposition with regard to this gun.

WITNESS.--It is an excellent gun, and very costly: such guns are not
made in France, where people are too economical.

At this answer the whole audience laughs. M. Maucroy is not exactly
famous for cheap bargains. Even some of the jurymen can hardly control
their laughter.

P.--Never mind your reflections on that object. Tell us only what you
know about the peculiarities of this gun.

WITNESS.--Well, thanks to a peculiar arrangement of the cartridges, and
thanks, also, to the special nature of the fulminating material, the
barrels hardly ever become foul.

A.--(Eagerly.) You are mistaken, sir. I have myself cleaned my gun
frequently; and I have, just on the contrary, found the barrels
extremely foul.

WITNESS.--Because you had fired too often. But I mean to say that you
can use up two or three cartridges without a trace being left in the
barrels.

A.--I deny that positively.

P.--(To witness.) And if a dozen cartridges were burnt?

WITNESS.--Oh, then, the barrels would be very foul.

P.--Examine the barrels, and tell us what you see.

WITNESS.--(After a minute examination.) I declare that two cartridges
cannot have been used since the gun was cleaned.

P.--(To the accused.) Well, what becomes of that dozen cartridges which
you have used up to light your cigars, and which had blackened your
hands so badly?

M. MAGLOIRE.--The question is too serious to be left entirely in the
hands of a single witness.

THE PROSECUTING ATTORNEY.--We only desire the truth. It is easy to make
an experiment.

WITNESS.--Oh, certainly!

P.--Let it be done.

Witness puts a cartridge into each barrel, and goes to the window to
explode them. The sudden explosion is followed by the screams of several
ladies.

WITNESS.--(Returning, and showing that the barrels are no more foul than
they were before.) Well, you see I was right.

P.--(To the accused.) You see this circumstance on which you relied so
securely, so far from helping you, only proves that your explanation of
the blackened state of your hands was a falsehood.

Upon the president's order, witness is taken out, and the examination of
the accused is continued.

P.--What were your relations with Count Claudieuse?

A.--We had no intercourse with each other.

P.--But it was known all over the country that you hated him?

A.--That is a mistake. I declare, upon my honor, that I always looked
upon him as the best and most honorable of men.

P.--There, at least, you agree with all who knew him. Still you are at
law with him?

A.--I have inherited that suit from my uncle, together with his fortune.
I carried it on, but very quietly. I asked for nothing better than a
compromise.

P.--And, when Count Claudieuse refused, you were incensed?

A.--No.

P.--You were so irritated against him, that you once actually aimed your
gun at him. At another time you said, "He will not leave me alone till I
put a ball into him." Do not deny! You will hear what the witnesses say.

Thereupon, the accused resumes his place. He looks as confident as
ever, and carries his head high. He has entirely overcome any feeling
of discouragement, and converses with his counsel in the most composed
manner.

There can be no doubt, that, at this stage of the proceedings, public
opinion is on his side. He has won the good-will even of those who came
there strongly prejudiced. No one can help being impressed by his proud
but mournful expression of fate; and all are touched by the extreme
simplicity of his answers.

Although the discussion about the gun has not turned out to his
advantage, it does not seem to have injured him. People are eagerly
discussing the question of the fouling of guns. A number of incredulous
persons, whom the experiment has not convinced, maintain that M. Maucroy
has been too rash in his statements. Others express surprise at the
reserve shown by counsel,--less by that of M. Folgat, who is unknown
here, than by that of M. Magloire, who usually allows no opportunity to
escape, but is sure to profit by the smallest incident.

The proceedings are not exactly suspended; but there is a pause, whilst
the ushers cover the articles on the table once more with red cloth,
and, after several comings and goings, roll a large arm-chair in front
of the judge's seat.

At last one of the ushers comes up to the president, and whispers
something into his ear.

The president only nods his head.

When the usher has left the room, M. Domini says,--

"We shall now proceed to hear the witnesses, and we propose to begin
with Count Claudieuse. Although seriously indisposed, he has preferred
to appear in court."

At these words Dr. Seignebos is seen to start up, as if he wished to
address the court; but one of his friends, sitting by him, pulls him
down by his coat. M. Folgat makes a sign to him, and he sits down again.

P.--Sheriff, bring in Count Claudieuse.


[Examination of Witnesses.]

The small door through which the armorer Maucroy had been admitted opens
once more, and Count Claudieuse enters. Supported and almost carried by
his man-servant.

He is greeted by a murmur of sympathetic pity. He is frightfully thin;
and his features look as haggard as if he were about to give up the
ghost. The whole vitality of his system seems to have centred in his
eyes, which shine with extraordinary brilliancy.

He takes the oath in an almost inaudible voice.

But the silence is so deep, that when the president asks him the usual
question, "Do you swear to tell the whole truth?" and he answers, "I
swear," the words are distinctly heard all over the court-room.

P.--(Very kindly.) We are very much obliged to you, sir, for the effort
which you have made. That chair has been brought in for you: please sit
down.

COUNT CLAUDIEUSE.--I thank you, sir; but I am strong enough to stand.

P.--Please tell us, then, what you know of the attempt made on your
life.

C.C.--It might have been eleven o'clock: I had gone to bed a little
while before, and blown out my light. I was in that half state which is
neither waking nor sleeping, when I saw my room lighted up by a dazzling
glare. I saw it was fire. I jumped out of bed, and, only lightly
dressed, rushed down the stairs. I found some difficulty in opening the
outer door, which I had locked myself. At last I succeeded. But I had no
sooner put my foot outside than I felt a terrible pain in my right side,
and at the same time I heard an explosion of fire-arms. Instinctively I
rushed towards the place from which the shot seemed to have been fired;
but, before I had taken three steps, I was struck once more in my
shoulder, and fell down unconscious.

P.--How long a time was there between the first and the second shots?

C.C.--Almost three or four seconds.

P.--Was that time enough to distinguish the murderer?

C.C.--Yes; and I saw him run from behind a wood-pile, where he had been
lying in ambush, and escape into the country.

P.--You can tell us, no doubt, how he was dressed?

C.C.--Certainly. He had on a pair of light gray trousers, a dark coat,
and a large straw hat.