Monsieur Lecoq, v. 1

by Emile Gaboriau

  Produced by David Moynihan, Dagny

  MONSIEUR LECOQ

  by Emile Gaboriau

  I

  At about eleven o'clock in the evening of the 20th of February, 186--,which chanced to be Shrove Sunday, a party of detectives left the policestation near the old Barriere d'Italie to the direct south of Paris.Their mission was to explore the district extending on the one handbetween the highroad to Fontainebleau and the Seine, and on the otherbetween the outer boulevards and the fortifications.

  This quarter of the city had at that time anything but an enviablereputation. To venture there at night was considered so dangerousthat the soldiers from the outlying forts who came in to Paris withpermission to go to the theatre, were ordered to halt at the barriere,and not to pass through the perilous district excepting in parties ofthree or four.

  After midnight, these gloomy, narrow streets became the haunt ofnumerous homeless vagabonds, and escaped criminals and malefactors,moreover, made the quarter their rendezvous. If the day had been a luckyone, they made merry over their spoils, and when sleep overtook them,hid in doorways or among the rubbish in deserted houses. Every efforthad been made to dislodge these dangerous guests, but the most energeticmeasures had failed to prove successful. Watched, hunted, and inimminent danger of arrest though they were, they always returned withidiotic obstinacy, obeying, as one might suppose, some mysterious lawof attraction. Hence, the district was for the police an immense trap,constantly baited, and to which the game came of their own accord to becaught.

  The result of a tour of inspection of this locality was so certain, thatthe officer in charge of the police post called to the squad as theydeparted: "I will prepare lodgings for our guests. Good luck to you andmuch pleasure!"

  This last wish was pure irony, for the weather was the most disagreeablethat could be imagined. A very heavy snow storm had prevailed forseveral days. It was now beginning to thaw, and on all the frequentedthoroughfares the slush was ankle-deep. It was still cold, however; adamp chill filled the air, and penetrated to the very marrow of one'sbones. Besides, there was a dense fog, so dense that one could not seeone's hands before one's face.

  "What a beastly job!" growled one of the agents.

  "Yes," replied the inspector who commanded the squad; "if you had anincome of thirty thousand francs, I don't suppose you'd be here." Thelaugh that greeted this common-place joke was not so much flattery ashomage to a recognized and established superiority.

  The inspector was, in fact, one of the most esteemed members of theforce, a man who had proved his worth. His powers of penetration werenot, perhaps, very great; but he thoroughly understood his profession,its resources, its labyrinths, and its artifices. Long practise hadgiven him imperturbable coolness, a great confidence in himself, and asort of coarse diplomacy that supplied the place of shrewdness. To hisfailings and his virtues he added incontestable courage, and hewould lay his hand upon the collar of the most dangerous criminal astranquilly as a devotee dips his fingers in a basin of holy water.

  He was a man about forty-six years of age, strongly built, with ruggedfeatures, a heavy mustache, and rather small, gray eyes, hidden by bushyeyebrows. His name was Gevrol, but he was universally known as "theGeneral." This sobriquet was pleasing to his vanity, which was notslight, as his subordinates well knew; and, doubtless, he felt that heought to receive from them the same consideration as was due to a personof that exalted rank.

  "If you begin to complain already," he added, gruffly, "what will you doby and by?"

  In fact, it was too soon to complain. The little party were then passingalong the Rue de Choisy. The people on the footways were orderly; andthe lights of the wine-shops illuminated the street. All these placeswere open. There is no fog or thaw that is potent enough to dismaylovers of pleasure. And a boisterous crowd of maskers filled eachtavern, and public ballroom. Through the open windows came alternatelythe sounds of loud voices and bursts of noisy music. Occasionally, adrunken man staggered along the pavement, or a masked figure crept by inthe shadow cast by the houses.

  Before certain establishments Gevrol commanded a halt. He gave apeculiar whistle, and almost immediately a man came out. This wasanother member of the force. His report was listened to, and then thesquad passed on.

  "To the left, boys!" ordered Gevrol; "we will take the Rue d'Ivry, andthen cut through the shortest way to the Rue de Chevaleret."

  From this point the expedition became really disagreeable. The way ledthrough an unfinished, unnamed street, full of puddles and deep holes,and obstructed with all sorts of rubbish. There were no longer anylights or crowded wine-shops. No footsteps, no voices were heard;solitude, gloom, and an almost perfect silence prevailed; and one mighthave supposed oneself a hundred leagues from Paris, had it not been forthe deep and continuous murmur that always arises from a large city,resembling the hollow roar of a torrent in some cavern depth.

  All the men had turned up their trousers and were advancing slowly,picking their way as carefully as an Indian when he is stealing upon hisprey. They had just passed the Rue du Chateau-des-Rentiers when suddenlya wild shriek rent the air. At this place, and at this hour, such a crywas so frightfully significant, that all the men paused as if by commonimpulse.

  "Did you hear that, General?" asked one of the detectives, in a lowvoice.

  "Yes, there is murder going on not far from here--but where? Silence!let us listen."

  They all stood motionless, holding their breath, and anxiouslylistening. Soon a second cry, or rather a wild howl, resounded.

  "Ah!" exclaimed the inspector, "it is at the Poivriere."

  This peculiar appellation "Poivriere" or "pepper-box" was derived fromthe term "peppered" which in French slang is applied to a man whohas left his good sense at the bottom of his glass. Hence, also, thesobriquet of "pepper thieves" given to the rascals whose specialty it isto plunder helpless, inoffensive drunkards.

  "What!" added Gevrol to his companions, "don't you know Mother Chupin'sdrinking-shop there on the right. Run."

  And, setting the example, he dashed off in the direction indicated. Hismen followed, and in less than a minute they reached a hovel of sinisteraspect, standing alone, in a tract of waste ground. It was indeed fromthis den that the cries had proceeded. They were now repeated, and wereimmediately followed by two pistol shots. The house was hermeticallyclosed, but through the cracks in the window-shutters, gleamed a reddishlight like that of a fire. One of the police agents darted to one ofthese windows, and raising himself up by clinging to the shutters withhis hands, endeavored to peer through the cracks, and to see what waspassing within.

  Gevrol himself ran to the door. "Open!" he commanded, striking itheavily. No response came. But they could hear plainly enough the soundof a terrible struggle--of fierce imprecations, hollow groans, andoccasionally the sobs of a woman.

  "Horrible!" cried the police agent, who was peering through theshutters; "it is horrible!"

  This exclamation decided Gevrol. "Open, in the name of the law!" hecried a third time.

  And no one responding, with a blow of the shoulder that was as violentas a blow from a battering-ram, he dashed open the door. Then thehorror-stricken accent of the man who had been peering through theshutters was explained. The room presented such a spectacle that allthe agents, and even Gevrol himself, remained for a moment rooted to thethreshold, shuddering with unspeakable horror.

  Everything denoted that the house had been the scene of a terriblestruggle, of one of those savage conflicts which only too often stainthe barriere drinking dens with blood. The lights had been extinguishedat the beginning of the strife, but a blazing fire of pine logsilluminated even the furthest corners of the room. Tables, glasses,decanters, household utensils, and stools h
ad been overturned, thrownin every direction, trodden upon, shivered into fragments. Nearthe fireplace two men lay stretched upon the floor. They were lyingmotionless upon their backs, with their arms crossed. A third wasextended in the middle of the room. A woman crouched upon the lowersteps of a staircase leading to the floor above. She had thrown herapron over her head, and was uttering inarticulate moans. Finally,facing the police, and with his back turned to an open door leading intoan adjoining room, stood a young man, in front of whom a heavy oakentable formed, as it were, a rampart.

  He was of medium stature, and wore a full beard. His clothes, not unlikethose of a railway porter, were torn to fragments, and soiled with dustand wine and blood. This certainly was the murderer. The expression onhis face was terrible. A mad fury blazed in his eyes, and a convulsivesneer distorted his features. On his neck and cheek were two woundswhich bled profusely. In his right hand, covered with a handkerchief, heheld a pistol, which he aimed at the intruders.

  "Surrender!" cried Gevrol.

  The man's lips moved, but in spite of a visible effort he could notarticulate a syllable.

  "Don't do any mischief," continued the inspector, "we are in force, youcan not escape; so lay down your arms."

  "I am innocent," exclaimed the man, in a hoarse, strained voice.

  "Naturally, but we do not see it."

  "I have been attacked; ask that old woman. I defended myself; I havekilled--I had a right to do so; it was in self-defense!"

  The gesture with which he enforced these words was so menacing that oneof the agents drew Gevrol violently aside, saying, as he did so; "Takecare, General, take care! The revolver has five barrels, and we haveheard but two shots."

  But the inspector was inaccessible to fear; he freed himself from thegrasp of his subordinate and again stepped forward, speaking in a stillcalmer tone. "No foolishness, my lad; if your case is a good one, whichis possible, after all, don't spoil it."

  A frightful indecision betrayed itself on the young man's features. Heheld Gevrol's life at the end of his finger, was he about to press thetrigger? No, he suddenly threw his weapon to the floor, exclaiming:"Come and take me!" And turning as he spoke he darted into the adjoiningroom, hoping doubtless to escape by some means of egress which he knewof.

  Gevrol had expected this movement. He sprang after him with outstretchedarms, but the table retarded his pursuit. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "thewretch escapes us!"

  But the fate of the fugitive was already decided. While Gevrol parleyed,one of the agents--he who had peered through the shutters--had gone tothe rear of the house and effected an entrance through the back door. Asthe murderer darted out, this man sprang upon him, seized him, and withsurprising strength and agility dragged him back. The murderer tried toresist; but in vain. He had lost his strength: he tottered and fell uponthe table that had momentarily protected him, murmuring loud enough forevery one to hear: "Lost! It is the Prussians who are coming!"

  This simple and decisive maneuvre on the part of the subordinate had wonthe victory, and at first it greatly delighted the inspector. "Good, myboy," said he, "very good! Ah! you have a talent for your business, andyou will do well if ever an opportunity--"

  But he checked himself; all his followers so evidently shared hisenthusiasm that a feeling of jealousy overcame him. He felt his prestigediminishing, and hastened to add: "The idea had occurred to me; but Icould not give the order without warning the scoundrel himself."

  This remark was superfluous. All the police agents had now gatheredaround the murderer. They began by binding his feet and hands, and thenfastened him securely to a chair. He offered no resistance. His wildexcitement had given place to that gloomy prostration that follows allunnatural efforts, either of mind or body. Evidently he had abandonedhimself to his fate.

  When Gevrol saw that the men had finished their task, he called on themto attend to the other inmates of the den, and in addition ordered thelamps to be lit for the fire was going out. The inspector began hisexamination with the two men lying near the fireplace. He laid his handon their hearts, but no pulsations were to be detected. He then heldthe face of his watch close to their lips, but the glass remained quiteclear. "Useless," he murmured, after several trials, "useless; they aredead! They will never see morning again. Leave them in the same positionuntil the arrival of the public prosecutor, and let us look at the otherone."

  The third man still breathed. He was a young fellow, wearing the uniformof a common soldier of the line. He was unarmed, and his large bluishgray cloak was partly open, revealing his bare chest. The agentslifted him very carefully--for he groaned piteously at the slightestmovement--and placed him in an upright position, with his back leaningagainst the wall. He soon opened his eyes, and in a faint voice askedfor something to drink. They brought him a glass of water, which hedrank with evident satisfaction. He then drew a long breath, and seemedto regain some little strength.

  "Where are you wounded?" asked Gevrol.

  "In the head, there," he responded, trying to raise one of his arms."Oh! how I suffer."

  The police agent, who had cut off the murderer's retreat now approached,and with a dexterity that an old surgeon might have envied, made anexamination of the gaping wound which the young man had received in theback of the neck. "It is nothing," declared the police agent, but ashe spoke there was no mistaking the movement of his lower lip. It wasevident that he considered the wound very dangerous, probably mortal.

  "It will be nothing," affirmed Gevrol in his turn; "wounds in the head,when they do not kill at once, are cured in a month."

  The wounded man smiled sadly. "I have received my death blow," hemurmured.

  "Nonsense!"

  "Oh! it is useless to say anything; I feel it, but I do not complain. Ihave only received my just deserts."

  All the police agents turned toward the murderer on hearing these words,presuming that he would take advantage of this opportunity to repeat hisprotestations of innocence. But their expectations were disappointed; hedid not speak, although he must certainly have heard the words.

  "It was that brigand, Lacheneur, who enticed me here," continued thewounded man, in a voice that was growing fainter.

  "Lacheneur?"

  "Yes, Jean Lacheneur, a former actor, who knew me when I was rich--for Ihad a fortune, but I spent it all; I wished to amuse myself. He, knowingI was without a single sou in the world, came and promised me moneyenough to begin life over again. Fool that I was to believe him, for hebrought me to die here like a dog! Oh! I will have my revenge on him!"At this thought the wounded man clenched his hands threateningly. "Iwill have my revenge," he resumed. "I know much more than he believes. Iwill reveal everything."

  But he had presumed too much upon his strength. Anger had given him amoment's energy, but at the cost of his life which was ebbing away. Whenhe again tried to speak, he could not. Twice did he open his lips, butonly a choking cry of impotent rage escaped them. This was his lastmanifestation of intelligence. A bloody foam gathered upon his lips, hiseyes rolled back in their sockets, his body stiffened, and he fell facedownward in a terrible convulsion.

  "It is over," murmured Gevrol.

  "Not yet," replied the young police agent, who had shown himself soproficient; "but he can not live more than two minutes. Poor devil! hewill say nothing."

  The inspector of police had risen from the floor as if he had justwitnessed the commonest incident in the world, and was carefully dustingthe knees of his trousers. "Oh, well," he responded, "we shall knowall we need to know. This fellow is a soldier, and the number of hisregiment will be given on the buttons of his cloak."

  A slight smile curved the lips of the subordinate. "I think you aremistaken, General," said he.

  "How--"

  "Yes, I understand. Seeing him attired in a military coat, yousupposed--But no; this poor wretch was no soldier. Do you wish for animmediate proof? Is his hair the regulation cut? Where did you ever seesoldiers with their hair falling over their shoulders?"

  T
his objection silenced the General for a moment; but he repliedbruskly: "Do you think that I keep my eyes in my pocket? What you haveremarked did not escape my notice; only I said to myself, here is ayoung man who has profited by leave of absence to visit the wig maker."

  "At least--"

  But Gevrol would permit no more interruptions. "Enough talk," hedeclared. "We will now hear what has happened. Mother Chupin, the oldhussy, is not dead!"

  As he spoke, he advanced toward the old woman, who was still crouchingupon the stairs. She had not moved nor ventured so much as a look sincethe entrance of the police, but her moans had not been discontinued.With a sudden movement, Gevrol tore off the apron which she had thrownover her head, and there she stood, such as years, vice, poverty, anddrink had made her; wrinkled, shriveled, toothless, and haggard, herskin as yellow and as dry as parchment and drawn tightly over her bones.

  "Come, stand up!" ordered the inspector. "Your lamentations don't affectme. You ought to be sent to prison for putting such vile drugs into yourliquors, thus breeding madness in the brains of your customers."

  The old woman's little red eyes traveled slowly round the room, and thenin tearful tones she exclaimed: "What a misfortune! what will become ofme? Everything is broken--I am ruined!" She only seemed impressed by theloss of her table utensils.

  "Now tell us how this trouble began," said Gevrol.

  "Alas! I know nothing about it. I was upstairs mending my son's clothes,when I heard a dispute."

  "And after that?"

  "Of course I came down, and I saw those three men that are lyingthere picking a quarrel with the young man you have arrested; the poorinnocent! For he is innocent, as truly as I am an honest woman. If myson Polyte had been here he would have separated them; but I, a poorwidow, what could I do! I cried 'Police!' with all my might."

  After giving this testimony she resumed her seat, thinking she had saidenough. But Gevrol rudely ordered her to stand up again. "Oh! we havenot done," said he. "I wish for other particulars."

  "What particulars, dear Monsieur Gevrol, since I saw nothing?"

  Anger crimsoned the inspector's ears. "What would you say, old woman, ifI arrested you?"

  "It would be a great piece of injustice."

  "Nevertheless, it is what will happen if you persist in remainingsilent. I have an idea that a fortnight in Saint Lazare would untie yourtongue."

  These words produced the effect of an electric shock on the WidowChupin. She suddenly ceased her hypocritical lamentations, rose, placedher hands defiantly on her hips, and poured forth a torrent of invectiveupon Gevrol and his agents, accusing them of persecuting her family eversince they had previously arrested her son, a good-for-nothing fellow.Finally, she swore that she was not afraid of prison, and would be onlytoo glad to end her days in jail beyond the reach of want.

  At first the General tried to impose silence upon the terribletermagant: but he soon discovered that he was powerless; besides, allhis subordinates were laughing. Accordingly he turned his back upon her,and, advancing toward the murderer, he said: "You, at least, will notrefuse an explanation."

  The man hesitated for a moment. "I have already said all that I have tosay," he replied, at last. "I have told you that I am innocent; and thiswoman and a man on the point of death who was struck down by my hand,have both confirmed my declaration. What more do you desire? When thejudge questions me, I will, perhaps, reply; until then do not expectanother word from me."

  It was easy to see that the fellow's resolution was irrevocable; andthat he was not to be daunted by any inspector of police. Criminalsfrequently preserve an absolute silence, from the very moment they arecaptured. These men are experienced and shrewd, and lawyers and judgespass many sleepless nights on their account. They have learned thata system of defense can not be improvised at once; that it is, on thecontrary, a work of patience and meditation; and knowing what a terribleeffect an apparently insignificant response drawn from them at themoment of detection may produce on a court of justice, they remainobstinately silent. So as to see whether the present culprit was an oldhand or not, Gevrol was about to insist on a full explanation when someone announced that the soldier had just breathed his last.

  "As that is so, my boys," the inspector remarked, "two of you willremain here, and I will leave with the others. I shall go and arousethe commissary of police, and inform him of the affair; he will takethe matter in hand: and we can then do whatever he commands. Myresponsibility will be over, in any case. So untie our prisoner'slegs and bind Mother Chupin's hands, and we will drop them both at thestation-house as we pass."

  The men hastened to obey, with the exception of the youngest among them,the same who had won the General's passing praise. He approached hischief, and motioning that he desired to speak with him, drew him outsidethe door. When they were a few steps from the house, Gevrol asked himwhat he wanted.

  "I wish to know, General, what you think of this affair."

  "I think, my boy, that four scoundrels encountered each other in thisvile den. They began to quarrel; and from words they came to blows.One of them had a revolver, and he killed the others. It is as clear asdaylight. According to his antecedents, and according to the antecedentsof the victims, the assassin will be judged. Perhaps society owes himsome thanks."

  "And you think that any investigation--any further search isunnecessary."

  "Entirely unnecessary."

  The younger man appeared to deliberate for a moment. "It seems to me,General," he at length replied, "that this affair is not perfectlyclear. Have you noticed the murderer, remarked his demeanor, andobserved his look? Have you been surprised as I have been--?"

  "By what?"

  "Ah, well! it seems to me--I may, of course, be mistaken--but I fancythat appearances are deceitful, and--Yes, I suspect something."

  "Bah!--explain yourself, please."

  "How can you explain the dog's faculty of scent?"

  Gevrol shrugged his shoulders. "In short," he replied, "you scent amelodrama here--a rendezvous of gentlemen in disguise, here at thePoivriere, at Mother Chupin's house. Well, hunt after the mystery, myboy; search all you like, you have my permission."

  "What! you will allow me?"

  "I not only allow you, I order you to do it. You are going to remainhere with any one of your comrades you may select. And if you findanything that I have not seen, I will allow you to buy me a pair ofspectacles."