Monsieur Lecoq, v. 1 by Emile Gaboriau (people reading books txt) 📖

“Oh, I had never set eyes on him before that evening.”

“But he must have been in your establishment before?”

“Never in his life.”

“Oh, oh! Then how do you explain that on entering the shop while you were upstairs, this unknown person—this stranger—should have called out: ‘Here, old woman!’ Did he merely guess that the establishment was kept by a woman; and that this woman was no longer young?”

“He did not say that.”

“Reflect a moment; you, yourself just told me so.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that, I’m sure, my good sir.”

“Yes, you did, and I will prove it by having your evidence read. Goguet, read the passage, if you please.”

The smiling clerk looked back through his minutes and then, in his clearest voice, he read these words, taken down as they fell from the Widow Chupin’s lips: “I had been upstairs about half an hour, when I heard some one below call out ‘Eh! old woman.’ So I went down,” etc., etc.

“Are you convinced?” asked M. Segmuller.

The old offender’s assurance was sensibly diminished by this proof of her prevarication. However, instead of discussing the subject any further, the magistrate glided over it as if he did not attach much importance to the incident.

“And the other men,” he resumed, “those who were killed: did you know them?”

“No, good sir, no more than I knew Adam and Eve.”

“And were you not surprised to see three men utterly unknown to you, and accompanied by two women, enter your establishment?”

“Sometimes chance—”

“Come! you do not think of what you are saying. It was not chance that brought these customers, in the middle of the night, to a wine-shop with a reputation like yours—an establishment situated far from any frequented route in the midst of a desolate waste.”

“I’m not a sorceress; I say what I think.”

“Then you did not even know the youngest of the victims, the man who was attired as a soldier, he who was named Gustave?”

“Not at all.”

M. Segmuller noted the intonation of this response, and then slowly added: “But you must have heard of one of Gustave’s friends, a man called Lacheneur?”

On hearing this name, the landlady of the Poivriere became visibly embarrassed, and it was in an altered voice that she stammered: “Lacheneur! Lacheneur! no, I have never heard that name mentioned.”

Still despite her denial, the effect of M. Segmuller’s remark was evident, and Lecoq secretly vowed that he would find this Lacheneur, at any cost. Did not the “articles of conviction” comprise a letter sent by this man to Gustave, and written, so Lecoq had reason to believe, in a cafe on the Boulevard Beaumarchais? With such a clue and a little patience, the mysterious Lacheneur might yet be discovered.

“Now,” continued M. Segmuller, “let us speak of the women who accompanied these unfortunate men. What sort of women were they?”

“Oh! women of no account whatever!”

“Were they well dressed?”

“On the contrary, very miserably.”

“Well, give me a description of them.”

“They were tall and powerfully built, and indeed, as it was Shrove Sunday, I first of all took them for men in disguise. They had hands like shoulders of mutton, gruff voices, and very black hair. They were as dark as mulattoes—”

“Enough!” interrupted the magistrate, “I require no further proof of your mendacity. These women were short, and one of them was remarkably fair.”

“I swear to you, my good sir—”

“Do not declare it upon oath. I shall be forced to confront you with an honest man, who will tell you to your face that you are a liar!”

The widow did not reply, and there was a moment’s silence. M. Segmuller determined to deal a decisive blow. “Do you also affirm that you had nothing of a compromising character in the pocket of your apron?” he asked.

“Nothing—you may have it examined; it was left in the house.”

“Then you still persist in your system,” resumed M. Segmuller. “Believe me, you are wrong. Reflect—it rests with you to go to the Assize Court as a witness, or an accomplice.”

Although the widow seemed crushed by this unexpected blow, the magistrate did not add another word. Her deposition was read over to her, she signed it, and was then led away.

M. Segmuller immediately seated himself at his desk, filled up a blank form and handed it to his clerk, saying: “This is an order for the governor of the Depot. Tell him to send the supposed murderer here at once.”