Within an Inch of His Life

by Emile Gaboriau

  XXI.

  "Have you heard the news?"

  "No: what is it?"

  "Dionysia de Chandore has been to see M. de Boiscoran in prison."

  "Is it possible?"

  "Yes, indeed! Twenty people have seen her come back from there, leaningon the arm of the older Miss Lavarande. She went in at ten minutes pastten, and she did not come out till a quarter-past three."

  "Is the young woman mad?"

  "And the aunt--what do you think of the aunt?"

  "She must be as mad as the niece."

  "And M. de Chandore?"

  "He must have lost his senses to allow such a scandal. But you know verywell, grandfather and aunts never had any will but Dionysia's."

  "A nice training!"

  "And nice fruits of such an education! After such a scandal, no man willbe bold enough to marry her."

  Such were the comments on Dionysia's visit to Jacques, when the newsbecame known. It flew at once all over town. The ladies "in society"could not recover from it; for people are exceedingly virtuous atSauveterre, and hence they claim the right of being exceedingly strictin their judgment. There is no trifling permitted on the score ofpropriety.

  The person who defies public opinion is lost. Now, public opinion wasdecidedly against Jacques de Boiscoran. He was down, and everybody wasready to kick him.

  "Will he get out of it?"

  This problem, which was day by day discussed at the "Literary Club," hadcalled forth torrents of eloquence, terrible discussions, and even oneor two serious quarrels, one of which had ended in a duel. But nobodyasked any longer,--

  "Is he innocent?"

  Dr. Seignebos's eloquence, the influence of M. Seneschal, and thecunning plots of Mechinet, had all failed.

  "Ah, what an interesting trial it will be!" said many people, who wereall eagerness to know who would be the presiding judge, in order toask him for tickets of admission. Day by day the interest in the trialbecame deeper; and all who were in any way connected with it werewatched with great curiosity. Everybody wanted to know what they weredoing, what they thought, and what they had said.

  They saw in the absence of the Marquis de Boiscoran an additional proofof Jacques's guilt. The continued presence of M. Folgat also created nosmall wonder. His extreme reserve, which they ascribed to his excessiveand ill-placed pride, had made him generally disliked. And now theysaid,--

  "He must have hardly any thing to do in Paris, that he can spend so manymonths in Sauveterre."

  The editor of "The Sauveterre Independent" naturally found the affaira veritable gold-mine for his paper. He forgot his old quarrel with theeditor of "The Impartial Journal," whom he accused of Bonapartism, andwho retaliated by calling him a Communist. Each day brought, in additionto the usual mention under the "local" head, some article on the"Boiscoran Case." He wrote,--

  "The health of Count C., instead of improving, is declining visibly. Heused to get up occasionally when he first came to Sauveterre; and now herarely leaves his bed. The wound in the shoulder, which at first seemedto be the least dangerous, has suddenly become much inflamed, owingto the tropical heat of the last days. At one time gangrene wasapprehended, and it was feared that amputation would become necessary.Yesterday Dr. S. seemed to be much disturbed.

  "And, as misfortunes never come singly, the youngest daughter of CountC. is very ill. She had the measles at the time of the fire; and thefright, the cold, and the removal, have brought on a relapse, which maybe dangerous.

  "Amid all these cruel trials, the Countess C. is admirable in herdevotion, her courage, and her resignation. Whenever she leaves thebedside of her dear patients to pray at church for them, she is receivedwith the most touching sympathy and the most sincere admiration by thewhole population."

  "Ah, that wretch Boiscoran!" cried the good people of Sauveterre whenthey read such an article.

  The next day, they found this,--

  "We have sent to the hospital to inquire from the lady superior how thepoor idiot is, who has taken such a prominent part in the bloody dramaat Valpinson. His mental condition remains unchanged since he has beenexamined by experts. The spark of intelligence which the crime hadelicited seems to be extinguished entirely and forever. It is impossibleto obtain a word from him. He is, however, not locked up. Inoffensiveand gentle, like a poor animal that has lost its master, he wandersmournfully through the courts and gardens of the hospital. Dr. S., whoused to take a lively interest in him, hardly ever sees him now.

  "It was thought at one time, that C. would be summoned to give evidencein the approaching trial. We are informed by high authority, that sucha dramatic scene must not be expected to take place. C. will not appearbefore the jury."

  "Certainly, Cocoleu's deposition must have been an interposition ofProvidence," said people who were not far from believing that it was agenuine miracle.

  The next day the editor took M. Galpin in hand.

  "M. G., the eminent magistrate, is very unwell just now, and verynaturally so after an investigation of such length and importance asthat which preceded the Boiscoran trial. We are told that he only awaitsthe decree of the court, to ask for a furlough and to go to one of therural stations of the Pyrenees."

  Then came Jacques's turn,--

  "M. J. de B. stands his imprisonment better than could be expected.According to direct information, his health is excellent, and hisspirits do not seem to have suffered. He reads much, and spends part ofthe night in preparing his defence, and making notes for his counsel."

  Then came, from day to day, smaller items,--

  "M. J. de B. is no longer in close confinement."

  Or,--

  "M. de B. had this morning an interview with his counsel, M. M., themost eminent member of our bar, and M. F., a young but distinguishedadvocate from Paris. The conference lasted several hours. We abstainfrom giving details; but our readers will understand the reserverequired in the case of an accused who insists upon protestingenergetically that he is innocent."

  And, again,--

  "M. de B. was yesterday visited by his mother."

  Or, finally,--

  "We hear at the last moment that the Marchioness de B. and M. Folgathave left for Paris. Our correspondent in P. writes us that the decreeof the court will not be delayed much longer."

  Never had "The Sauveterre Independent" been read with so much interest.And, as everybody endeavored to be better informed than his neighbor,quite a number of idle men had assumed the duty of watching Jacques'sfriends, and spent their days in trying to find out what was going onat M. de Chandore's house. Thus it came about, that, on the eveningof Dionysia's visit to Jacques, the street was full of curious people.Towards half-past ten, they saw M. de Chandore's carriage come out ofthe courtyard, and draw up at the door. At eleven o'clock M. de Chandoreand Dr. Seignebos got in, the coachman whipped the horse, and they droveoff.

  "Where can they be going?" asked they.

  They followed the carriage. The two gentlemen drove to the station.They had received a telegram, and were expecting the return of themarchioness and M. Folgat, accompanied, this time, by the old marquis.

  They reached there much too soon. The local branch railway which goes toSauveterre is not famous for regularity, and still reminds its patronsoccasionally of the old habits of stage-coaches, when the driver or theconductor had, at the last moment, to stop to pick up something theyhad forgotten. At a quarter-past midnight the train, which ought tohave been there twenty minutes before, had not yet been signalled.Every thing around was silent and deserted. Through the windows thestation-master might be seen fast asleep in his huge leather chair.Clerks and porters all were asleep, stretched out on the benches of thewaiting-room. But people are accustomed to such delays at Sauveterre;they are prepared for being kept waiting: and the doctor and M. deChandore were walking up and down the platform, being neither astonishednor impatient at the irregularity. Nor would they have been muchsurprised if they had been told that they were closely watched all thetime: they knew t
heir good town. Still it was so. Two curious men,more obstinate than the others, had jumped into the omnibus which runsbetween the station and the town; and now, standing a little aside, theysaid to each other,--

  "I say, what can they be waiting for?"

  At last towards one o'clock, a bell rang, and the station seemedto start into life. The station-master opened his door, the portersstretched themselves and rubbed their eyes, oaths were heard, doorsslammed, and the large hand-barrows came in sight.

  Then a low thunder-like noise came nearer and nearer; and almostinstantly a fierce red light at the far end of the track shone outin the dark night like a ball of fire. M. de Chandore and the doctorhastened to the waiting-room.

  The train stopped. A door opened, and the marchioness appeared, leaningon M. Folgat's arm. The marquis, a travelling-bag in hand, followednext.

  "That was it!" said the volunteer spies, who had flattened their nosesagainst the window-panes.

  And, as the train brought no other passengers, they succeeded in makingthe omnibus conductor start at once, eager as they were to proclaim thearrival of the prisoner's father.

  The hour was unfavorable: everybody was asleep; but they did not give upthe hope of finding somebody yet at the club. People stay up very lateat the club, for there is play going on there, and at times pretty heavyplay: you can lose your five hundred francs quite readily there. Thusthe indefatigable news-hunters had a fair chance of finding open earsfor their great piece of news. And yet, if they had been less eager tospread it, they might have witnessed, perhaps not entirely unmoved, thisfirst interview between M. de Chandore and the Marquis de Boiscoran.

  By a natural impulse they had both hastened forward, and shook hands inthe most energetic manner. Tears stood in their eyes. They opened theirlips to speak; but they said nothing. Besides, there was no need ofwords between them. That close embrace had told Jacques's father clearlyenough what Dionysia's grandfather must have suffered. They remainedthus standing motionless, looking at each other, when Dr. Seignebos, whocould not be still for any length of time, came up, and asked,--

  "The trunks are on the carriage: shall we go?"

  They left the station. The night was clear; and on the horizon, abovethe dark mass of the sleeping town, there rose against the pale-bluesky the two towers of the old castle, which now served as prison toSauveterre.

  "That is the place where my Jacques is kept," murmured the marquis."There my son is imprisoned, accused of horrible crimes."

  "We will get him out of it," said the doctor cheerfully, as he helpedthe old gentleman into the carriage.

  But in vain did he try, during the drive, to rouse, as he called it, thespirits of his companions. His hopes found no echo in their distressedhearts.

  M. Folgat inquired after Dionysia, whom he had been surprised not to seeat the station. M. de Chandore replied that she had staid at home withthe Misses Lavarande, to keep M. Magloire company; and that was all.

  There are situations in which it is painful to talk. The marquis hadenough to do to suppress the spasmodic sobs which now and thenwould rise in his throat. He was upset by the thought that he was atSauveterre. Whatever may be said to the contrary, distance does notweaken our emotions. Shaking hands with M. de Chandore in person hadmoved him more deeply than all the letters he had received for a month.And when he saw Jacques's prison from afar, he had the first clearnotion of the horrible tortures endured by his son. The marchioness wasutterly exhausted: she felt as if all the springs in her system werebroken.

  M. de Chandore trembled when he looked at them, and saw how they allwere on the point of succumbing. If they despaired, what could hehope for,--he, who knew how indissolubly Dionysia's fate in life wasconnected with Jacques?

  At length the carriage stopped before his house. The door openedinstantly, and the marchioness found herself in Dionysia's arms, andsoon after comfortably seated in an easy-chair. The others had followedher. It was past two o'clock; but every minute now was valuable.Arranging his spectacles, Dr. Seignebos said,--

  "I propose that we exchange our information. I, for my part, I am stillat the same point. But you know my views. I do not give them up. Cocoleuis an impostor, and it shall be proved. I appear to notice him nolonger; but, in reality, I watch him more closely than ever."

  Dionysia interrupted him, saying,--

  "Before any thing is decided, there is one fact which you all ought toknow. Listen."

  Pale like death, for it cost her a great struggle to reveal thus thesecret of her heart, but with a voice full of energy, and an eye full offire, she told them what she had already confessed to her grandfather;viz., the propositions she had made to Jacques, and his obstinaterefusal to accede to them.

  "Well done, madame!" said Dr. Seignebos, full of enthusiasm. "Well done!Jacques is very unfortunate, and still he is to be envied."

  Dionysia finished her recital. Then, turning with a triumphant air to M.Magloire, she added,--

  "After that, is there any one yet who could believe that Jacques is avile assassin?"

  The eminent advocate of Sauveterre was not one of those men who prizetheir opinions more highly than truth itself.

  "I confess," he said, "that, if I were to go and see Jacques to-morrowfor the first time, I should not speak to him as I did before."

  "And I," exclaimed the Marquis de Boiscoran,--"I declare that I answerfor my son as for myself, and I mean to tell him so to-morrow."

  Then turning towards his wife, and speaking so low, that she alone couldhear him, he added,--

  "And I hope you will forgive me those suspicions which now fill me withhorror."

  But the marchioness had no strength left: she fainted, and had to beremoved, accompanied by Dionysia and the Misses Lavarande. As soon asthey were out of the room, Dr. Seignebos locked the door, rested hiselbow on the chimney, and, taking off his spectacles to wipe them, saidto M. Folgat,--

  "Now we can speak freely. What news do you bring us?"