Within an Inch of His Life by Emile Gaboriau (good summer reads .TXT) 📖

burning; the distillery was in a blaze; and the roof of the dwelling-house was flaming up in various places. And there was not one cool head among them all. I was so utterly bewildered, that I forgot all about my children; and their room was already in flames, when a brave, bold fellow rushed in, and snatched them from the very jaws of death. I did not come to myself till Dr. Seignebos arrived, and spoke to me words of hope. This fire will probably ruin us; but what matters that, so long as my husband and my children are safe?”

Dr. Seignebos had more than once given utterance to his contemptuous impatience: he did not appreciate these preliminary steps. The others, however, the mayor, the attorney, and even the servants, had hardly been able to suppress their excitement. He shrugged his shoulders, and growled between his teeth,—

“Mere formalities! How petty! How childish!”

After having taken off his spectacles, wiped them and replaced them twenty times, he had sat down at the rickety table in the corner of the room, and amused himself with arranging the fifteen or twenty shot he had extracted from the count’s wounds, in long lines or small circles. But, when the countess uttered her last words, he rose, and, turning to M. Galpin, said in a curt tone,—

“Now, sir, I hope you will let me have my patient again.”

The magistrate was not a little incensed: there was reason enough, surely; and, frowning fiercely, he said,—

“I appreciate, sir, the importance of your duties; but mine are, I think, by no means less solemn nor less urgent.”

“Oh!”

“Consequently you will be pleased, sir, to grant me five minutes more.”

“Ten, if it must be, sir. Only I warn you that every minute henceforth may endanger the life of my patient.”

They had drawn near to each other, and were measuring each other with defiant looks, which betrayed the bitterest animosity. They would surely not quarrel at the bedside of a dying man? The countess seemed to fear such a thing; for she said reproachfully,—

“Gentlemen, I pray, gentlemen”—

Perhaps her intervention would have been of no avail, if M. Seneschal and M. Daubigeon had not stepped in, each addressing one of the two adversaries. M. Galpin was apparently the most obstinate of the two; for, in spite of all, he began once more to question the count, and said,—

“I have only one more question to ask you, sir: Where and how were you standing, where and how do you think the murderer was standing, at the moment when the crime was committed?”

“Sir,” replied the count, evidently with a great effort, “I was standing, as I told you, on the threshold of my door, facing the courtyard. The murderer must have been standing some twenty yards off, on my right, behind a pile of wood.”

When he had written down the answer of the wounded man, the magistrate turned once more to the physician, and said,—

“You heard what was said, sir. It is for you now to aid justice by telling us at what distance the murderer must have been when he fired.”

“I don’t guess riddles,” replied the physician coarsely.

“Ah, have a care, sir!” said M. Galpin. “Justice, whom I here represent, has the right and the means to enforce respect. You are a physician, sir; and your science is able to answer my question with almost mathematical accuracy.”

The physician laughed, and said,—

“Ah, indeed! Science has reached that point, has it? Which science? Medical jurisprudence, no doubt,—that part of our profession which is at the service of the courts, and obeys the judges’ behests.”

“Sir!”

But the doctor was not the man to allow himself to be defeated a second time. He went on coolly,—

“I know what you are going to say; there is no handbook of medical jurisprudence which does not peremptorily settle the question you ask me. I have studied these handbooks, these formidable weapons which you gentlemen of the bar know so well how to handle. I know the opinions of a Devergie and an Orfila, I know even what Casper and Tardieu, and a host of others teach on that subject. I am fully aware that these gentlemen claim to be able to tell you by the inch at what distance a shot has been fired. But I am not so skilful. I am only a poor country-practitioner, a simple healer of diseases. And before I give an opinion which may cost a poor devil his life, innocent though he be, I must have time to reflect, to consult data, and to compare other cases in my practice.”

He was so evidently right in reality, if not in form, that even M. Galpin gave way.

“It is merely as a matter of information that I request your opinion, sir,” he replied. “Your real and carefully-considered professional opinion will, of course, be given in a special statement.”

“Ah, if that is the case!”

“Pray, inform me, then unofficially, what you think of the nature of the wounds of Count Claudieuse.”

Dr. Seignebos settled his spectacles ceremoniously on his nose, and then replied,—

“My impression, so far as I am now able to judge, is that the count has stated the facts precisely as they were. I am quite ready to believe that the murderer was lying in ambush behind one of the piles of wood, and at the distance which he has mentioned. I am also able to affirm that the two shots were fired at different distances,—one much nearer than the other. The proof of it lies in the nature of the wounds, one of which, near the hip may be scientifically called”—

“But we know at what distance a ball is spent,” broke in M. Seneschal, whom the doctor’s dogmatic tone began to annoy.

“Ah, do we know that, indeed? You know it, M. Seneschal? Well, I declare I do not know it. To be sure, I bear in mind, what you seem to forget, that we have no longer, as in former days, only three or four kinds of guns. Did you think of the immense variety of fire-arms, French and English, American and German, which are nowadays found in everybody’s hands? Do you not see, you who have been a lawyer and a magistrate, that the whole legal question will be based upon this grave and all-important point?”

Thereupon the physician resumed his instruments, resolved to give no other answer, and was about to go to work once more when fearful cries were heard without; and the lawyers, the mayor, and the countess herself, rushed at once to the door.

These cries were, unfortunately, not uttered without cause. The roof of the main building had just fallen in, burying under its ruins the poor drummer who had a few hours ago beaten the alarm, and one of the firemen, the most respected carpenter in Sauveterre, and a father of five children.

Capt. Parenteau