II
If there had been no crime, at least something extraordinary had takenplace at the chateau; the impassible justice might have been convincedof it, as soon as he had stepped into the vestibule. The glass doorleading to the garden was wide open, and three of the panes wereshattered into a thousand pieces. The carpeting of waxed canvas betweenthe doors had been torn up, and on the white marble slabs large drops ofblood were visible. At the foot of the staircase was a stain larger thanthe rest, and upon the lowest step a splash hideous to behold.
Unfitted for such spectacles, or for the mission he had now to perform,M. Courtois became faint. Luckily, he borrowed from the idea of hisofficial importance, an energy foreign to his character. The moredifficult the preliminary examination of this affair seemed, the moredetermined he was to carry it on with dignity.
"Conduct us to the place where you saw the body," said he to Bertaud.But Papa Plantat intervened.
"It would be wiser, I think," he objected, "and more methodical, tobegin by going through the house."
"Perhaps--yes--true, that's my own view," said the mayor, grasping atthe other's counsel, as a drowning man clings to a plank. And he madeall retire excepting the brigadier and the valet de chambre, the latterremaining to serve as guide. "Gendarmes," cried he to the men guardingthe gate, "see to it that no one goes out; prevent anybody from enteringthe house, and above all, let no one go into the garden."
Then they ascended the staircase. Drops of blood were sprinkled allalong the stairs. There was also blood on the baluster, and M. Courtoisperceived, with horror, that his hands were stained.
When they had reached the first landing-stage, the mayor said to thevalet de chambre:
"Tell me, my friend, did your master and mistress occupy the samechamber?"
"Yes, sir."
"And where is their chamber?"
"There, sir."
As he spoke, the valet de chambre staggered back terrified, and pointedto a door, the upper panel of which betrayed the imprint of a bloodyhand. Drops of perspiration overspread the poor mayor's forehead. He toowas terrified, and could hardly keep on his feet. Alas, authority bringswith it terrible obligations! The brigadier, an old soldier of theCrimea, visibly moved, hesitated.
M. Plantat alone, as tranquil as if he were in his garden, retained hiscoolness, and looked around upon the others.
"We must decide," said he.
He entered the room; the rest followed.
There was nothing unusual in the apartment; it was a boudoir hung inblue satin, furnished with a couch and four arm-chairs, covered alsowith blue satin. One of the chairs was overturned.
They passed on to the bed-chamber.
A frightful disorder appeared in this room. There was not an article offurniture, not an ornament, which did not betray that a terrible,enraged and merciless struggle had taken place between the assassins andtheir victims. In the middle of the chamber a small table wasoverturned, and all about it were scattered lumps of sugar, vermilioncups, and pieces of porcelain.
"Ah!" said the valet de chambre, "Monsieur and Madame were taking teawhen the wretches came in!"
The mantel ornaments had been thrown upon the floor; the clock, infalling, had stopped at twenty minutes past three. Near the clock werethe lamps; the globes were in pieces, the oil had been spilled.
The canopy of the bed had been torn down, and covered the bed. Someonemust have clutched desperately at the draperies. All the furniture wasoverturned. The coverings of the chairs had been hacked by strokes of aknife, and in places the stuffing protruded. The secretary had beenbroken open; the writing-slide, dislocated, hung by its hinges; thedrawers were open and empty, and everywhere, blood--blood upon thecarpet, the furniture, the curtains--above all, upon the bed-curtains.
"Poor wretches!" stammered the mayor. "They were murdered here."
Every one for a moment was appalled. But meanwhile, the justice of thepeace devoted himself to a minute scrutiny, taking notes upon histablets, and looking into every corner. When he had finished:
"Come," said he, "let us go into the other rooms."
Everywhere there was the same disorder. A band of furious maniacs, orcriminals seized with a frenzy, had certainly passed the night in thehouse.
The count's library, especially, had been turned topsy-turvy. Theassassins had not taken the trouble to force the locks; they had gone towork with a hatchet. Surely they were confident of not being overheard;for they must have struck tremendous blows to make the massive oakenbureau fly in pieces.
Neither parlor nor smoking-room had been respected. Couches, chairs,canopies were cut and torn as if they had been lunged at with swords.Two spare chambers for guests were all in confusion.
They then ascended to the second story.
There, in the first room which they penetrated, they found, beside atrunk which had been assaulted, but which was not opened, a hatchet forsplitting wood which the valet de chambre recognized as belonging to thehouse.
"Do you understand now?" said the mayor to M. Plantat. "The assassinswere in force, that's clear. The murder accomplished, they scatteredthrough the chateau, seeking everywhere the money they knew they wouldfind here. One of them was engaged in breaking open this trunk, when theothers, below, found the money; they called him; he hastened down, andthinking all further search useless, he left the hatchet here."
"I see it," said the brigadier, "just as if I had been here."
The ground-floor, which they next visited, had been respected. Only,after the crime had been committed, and the money secured, the murderershad felt the necessity of refreshing themselves. They found the remainsof their supper in the dining-room. They had eaten up all the cold meatsleft in the cupboard. On the table, beside eight empty bottles of wineand liqueurs, were ranged five glasses.
"There were five of them," said the mayor.
By force of will, M. Courtois had recovered his self-possession.
"Before going to view the bodies," said he, "I will send word to theprocureur of Corbeil. In an hour, we will have a judge of instruction,who will finish our painful task."
A gendarme was instructed to harness the count's buggy, and to hasten tothe procureur. Then the mayor and the justice, followed by thebrigadier, the valet de chambre, and the two Bertauds, took their waytoward the river.
The park of Valfeuillu was very wide from right to left. From the houseto the Seine it was almost two hundred steps. Before the house was agrassy lawn, interspersed with flower-beds. Two paths led across thelawn to the river-bank.
But the murderers had not followed the paths. Making a short cut, theyhad gone straight across the lawn. Their traces were perfectly visible.The grass was trampled and stamped down as if a heavy load had beendragged over it. In the midst of the lawn they perceived something red;M. Plantat went and picked it up. It was a slipper, which the valet dechambre recognized as the count's. Farther on, they found a white silkhandkerchief, which the valet declared he had often seen around thecount's neck. This handkerchief was stained with blood.
At last they arrived at the river-bank, under the willows from whichPhilippe had intended to cut off a branch; there they saw the body. Thesand at this place was much indented by feet seeking a firm support.Everything indicated that here had been the supreme struggle.
M. Courtois understood all the importance of these traces.
"Let no one advance," said he, and, followed by the justice of thepeace, he approached the corpse. Although the face could not bedistinguished, both recognized the countess. Both had seen her in thisgray robe, adorned with blue trimmings.
Now, how came she there?
The mayor thought that having succeeded in escaping from the hands ofthe murderers, she had fled wildly. They had pursued her, had caught upwith her there, and she had fallen to rise no more. This versionexplained the traces of the struggle. It must have been the count's bodythat they had dragged across the lawn.
M. Courtois talked excitedly, trying to impose his ideas on the ju
stice.But M. Plantat hardly listened; you might have thought him a hundredleagues from Valfeuillu; he only responded by monosyllables--yes, no,perhaps. And the worthy mayor gave himself great pains; he went andcame, measured steps, minutely scrutinized the ground.
There was not at this place more than a foot of water. A mud-bank, uponwhich grew some clumps of flags and some water-lilies, descended by agentle decline from the bank to the middle of the river. The water wasvery clear, and there was no current; the slippery and slimy mire couldbe distinctly seen.
M. Courtois had gone thus far in his investigations, when he was struckby a sudden idea.
"Bertaud," said he, "come here."
The old poacher obeyed.
"You say that you saw the body from your boat?"
"Yes, Monsieur Mayor."
"Where is your boat?"
"There, hauled up to that field."
"Well, lead us to it."
It was clear to all that this order had a great effect upon the man. Hetrembled and turned pale under his rough skin, tanned as it was by sunand storm. He was even seen to cast a menacing look toward his son.
"Let us go," said he at last.
They were returning to the house when the valet proposed to pass overthe ditch. "That will be the quickest way," said he, "I will go for aladder which we will put across."
He went off, and quickly reappeared with his improvised foot-bridge. Butat the moment he was adjusting it, the mayor cried out to him:
"Stop!"
The imprints left by the Bertauds on both sides of the ditch had justcaught his eye.
"What is this?" said he; "evidently someone has crossed here, and notlong ago; for the traces of the steps are quite fresh."
After an examination of some minutes he ordered that the ladder shouldbe placed farther off. When they had reached the boat, he said to Jean,"Is this the boat with which you went to take up your nets thismorning?"
"Yes."
"Then," resumed M. Courtois, "what implements did you use? your cast netis perfectly dry; this boat-hook and these oars have not been wet fortwenty-four hours."
The distress of the father and son became more and more evident.
"Do you persist in what you say, Bertaud?" said the mayor.
"Certainly."
"And you, Philippe?"
"Monsieur," stammered the young man, "we have told the truth."
"Really!" said M. Courtois, in an ironical tone. "Then you will explainto the proper authorities how it was that you could see anything from aboat which you had not entered. It will be proved to you, also, that thebody is in a position where it is impossible to see it from the middleof the river. Then you will still have to tell what these foot-prints onthe grass are, which go from your boat to the place where the ditch hasbeen crossed several times and by several persons."
The two Bertauds hung their heads.
"Brigadier," ordered the mayor, "arrest these two men in the name of thelaw, and prevent all communication between them."
Philippe seemed to be ill. As for old Jean, he contented himself withshrugging his shoulders and saying to his son:
"Well, you would have it so, wouldn't you?"
While the brigadier led the two poachers away, and shut them upseparately, and under the guard of his men, the justice and the mayorreturned to the park. "With all this," muttered M. Courtois, "no tracesof the count."
They proceeded to take up the body of the countess. The mayor sent fortwo planks, which, with a thousand precautions, they placed on theground, being able thus to move the countess without effacing theimprints necessary for the legal examination. Alas! it was indeed shewho had been the beautiful, the charming Countess de Tremorel! Here wereher smiling face, her lovely, speaking eyes, her fine, sensitive mouth.
There remained nothing of her former self. The face was unrecognizable,so soiled and wounded was it. Her clothes were in tatters. Surely afurious frenzy had moved the monsters who had slain the poor lady! Shehad received more than twenty knife-wounds, and must have been struckwith a stick, or rather with a hammer; she had been dragged by her feetand by her hair!
In her left hand she grasped a strip of common cloth, torn, doubtless,from the clothes of one of the assassins. The mayor, in viewing thespectacle, felt his legs fail him, and supported himself on the arm ofthe impassible Plantat.
"Let us carry her to the house," said the justice, "and then we willsearch for the count."
The valet and brigadier (who had now returned) called on the domesticsfor assistance. The women rushed into the garden. There was then aterrible concert of cries, lamentations, and imprecations.
"The wretches! So noble a mistress! So good a lady!"
M. and Mme. de Tremorel, one could see, were adored by their people.
The countess had just been laid upon the billiard-table, on theground-floor, when the judge of instruction and a physician wereannounced.
"At last!" sighed the worthy mayor; and in a lower tone he added, "thefinest medals have their reverse."
For the first time in his life, he seriously cursed his ambition, andregretted being the most important personage in Orcival.
Le crime d'Orcival. English Page 2
