Chương Chương 22 · Chapter XXII

Robelot must have had rare presence of mind and courage to kill himself

in that obscure closet, without making enough noise to arouse the

attention of those in the library. He had wound a string tightly around

his neck, and had used a piece of pencil as a twister, and so had

strangled himself. He did not, however, betray the hideous look which

the popular belief attributes to those who have died by strangulation.

His face was pale, his eyes and mouth half open, and he had the

appearance of one who has gradually and without much pain lost his

consciousness by congestion of the brain.

"Perhaps he is not quite dead yet," said the doctor. He quickly pulled

out his case of instruments and knelt beside the motionless body.

This incident seemed to annoy M. Lecoq very much; just as everything

was, as he said, "running on wheels," his principal witness, whom he had

caught at the peril of his life, had escaped him. M. Plantat, on the

contrary, seemed tolerably well satisfied, as if the death of Robelot

furthered projects which he was secretly nourishing, and fulfilled his

secret hopes. Besides, it little mattered if the object was to oppose M.

Domini's theories and induce him to change his opinion. This corpse had

more eloquence in it than the most explicit of confessions.

The doctor, seeing the uselessness of his pains, got up.

"It's all over," said he. "The asphyxia was accomplished in a very few

moments."

The bone-setter's body was carefully laid on the floor in the library.

"There is nothing more to be done," said M. Plantat, "but to carry him

home; we will follow on so as to seal up his effects, which perhaps

contain important papers. Run to the mairie," he added, turning to his

servant, "and get a litter and two stout men."

Dr. Gendron's presence being no longer necessary, he promised M. Plantat

to rejoin him at Robelot's, and started off to inquire after M.

Courtois's condition.

Louis lost no time, and soon reappeared followed, not by two, but ten

men. The body was placed on a litter and carried away. Robelot occupied

a little house of three rooms, where he lived by himself; one of the

rooms served as a shop, and was full of plants, dried herbs, grain, and

other articles appertaining to his vocation as an herbist. He slept in

the back room, which was better furnished than most country rooms. His

body was placed upon the bed. Among the men who had brought it was the

"drummer of the town," who was at the same time the grave-digger. This

man, expert in everything pertaining to funerals, gave all the necessary

instructions on the present occasion, himself taking part in the

lugubrious task.

Meanwhile M. Plantat examined the furniture, the keys of which had been

taken from the deceased's pocket. The value of the property found in the

possession of this man, who had, two years before, lived from day to day

on what he could pick up, were an over-whelming proof against him in

addition to the others already discovered. But M. Plantat looked in vain

for any new indications of which he was ignorant. He found deeds of the

Morin property and of the Frapesle and Peyron lands; there were also two

bonds, for one hundred and fifty and eight hundred and twenty francs,

signed by two Orcival citizens in Robelot's favor. M. Plantat could

scarcely conceal his disappointment.

"Nothing of importance," whispered he in M. Lecoq's ear. "How do you

explain that?"

"Perfectly," responded the detective. "He was a sly rogue, this Robelot,

and he was cunning enough to conceal his sudden fortune and patient

enough to appear to be years accumulating it. You only find in his

secretary effects which he thought he could avow without danger. How

much is there in all?"

Plantat rapidly added up the different sums, and said:

"About fourteen thousand five hundred francs."

"Madame Sauvresy gave him more than that," said the detective,

positively. "If he had no more than this, he would not have been such a

fool as to put it all into land. He must have a hoard of money concealed

somewhere."

"Of course he must. But where?"

"Ah, let me look."

He began to rummage about, peering into everything in the room, moving

the furniture, sounding the floor with his heels, and rapping on the

wall here and there. Finally he came to the fireplace, before which he

stopped.

"This is July," said he. "And yet there are cinders here in the

fireplace."

"People sometimes neglect to clean them out in the spring."

"True; but are not these very clean and distinct? I don't find any of

the light dust and soot on them which ought to be there after they have

lain several months."

He went into the second room whither he had sent the men after they had

completed their task, and said:

"I wish one of you would get me a pickaxe."

All the men rushed out; M. Lecoq returned to his companion.

"Surely," muttered he, as if apart, "these cinders have been disturbed

recently, and if they have been--"

He knelt down, and pushing the cinders away, laid bare the stones of the

fireplace. Then taking a thin piece of wood, he easily inserted it into

the cracks between the stones.

"See here, Monsieur Plantat," said he. "There is no cement between these

stones, and they are movable; the treasure must be here."

When the pickaxe was brought, he gave a single blow with it; the stones

gaped apart, and betrayed a wide and deep hole between them.

"Ah," cried he, with a triumphant air, "I knew it well enough."

The hole was full of rouleaux of twenty-franc pieces; on counting them,

M. Lecoq found that there were nineteen thousand five hundred francs.

The old justice's face betrayed an expression of profound grief.

"That," thought he, "is the price of my poor Sauvresy's life."

M. Lecoq found a small piece of paper, covered with figures, deposited

with the gold; it seemed to be Robelot's accounts. He had put on the

left hand the sum of forty thousand francs; on the right hand, various

sums were inscribed, the total of which was twenty-one thousand five

hundred francs. It was only too clear; Mme. Sauvresy had paid Robelot

forty thousand francs for the bottle of poison. There was nothing more

to learn at his house. They locked the money up in the secretary, and

affixed seals everywhere, leaving two men on guard.

But M. Lecoq was not quite satisfied yet. What was the manuscript which

Plantat had read? At first he had thought that it was simply a copy of

the papers confided to him by Sauvresy; but it could not be that;

Sauvresy couldn't have thus described the last agonizing scenes of his

life. This mystery mightily worried the detective and dampened the joy

he felt at having solved the crime at Valfeuillu. He made one more

attempt to surprise Plantat into satisfying his curiosity. Taking him by

the coat-lapel, he drew him into the embrasure of a window, and with his

most innocent air, said:

"I beg your pardon, are we going back to your house?"

"Why should we? You know the doctor is going to meet us here."

"I think we may need the papers you read to us, to convince Monsieur

Domini."

M. Plantat smiled sadly, and looking steadily at him, replied:

"You are very sly, Monsieur Lecoq; but I too am sly enough to keep the

last key of the mystery of which you hold all the others."

"Believe me--" stammered M. Lecoq.

"I believe," interrupted his companion, "that you would like very well

to know the source of my information. Your memory is too good for you to

forget that when I began last evening I told you that this narrative was

for your ear alone, and that I had only one object in disclosing it--to

aid our search. Why should you wish the judge of instruction to see

these notes, which are purely personal, and have no legal or authentic

character?"

He reflected a few moments, and added:

"I have too much confidence in you, Monsieur Lecoq, and esteem you too

much, not to have every trust that you will not divulge these strict

confidences. What you will say will be of as much weight as anything I

might divulge--especially now that you have Robelot's body to back your

assertions, as well as the money found in his possession. If Monsieur

Domini still hesitates to believe you, you know that the doctor promises

to find the poison which killed Sauvresy."

M. Plantat stopped and hesitated.

"In short," he resumed, "I think you will be able to keep silence as to

what you have heard from me."

M. Lecoq took him by the hand, and pressing it significantly, said:

"Count on me, Monsieur."

At this moment Dr. Gendron appeared at the door.

"Courtois is better," said he. "He weeps like a child; but he will come

out of it."

"Heaven be praised!" cried the old justice of the peace. "Now, since

you've come, let us hurry off to Corbeil; Monsieur Domini, who is

waiting for us this morning, must be mad with impatience."