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

of him answered fully to Jacques de Boiscoran. He also remembered that one evening, when the weather was wretched, Sir Burnett had come himself to order a carriage. It was for a lady, who had got in alone, and who had been driven to the Place de la Madeleine. But it was a dark night; the lady wore a thick veil; he had not been able to distinguish her features, and all he could say was that she looked above medium height.

“It is always the same story,” said Goudar. “But the wine-merchant ought to be best informed. If I were alone I would breakfast there.”

“I shall breakfast with you,” said M. Folgat.

They did so, and they did wisely.

The wine-merchant did not know much; but his waiter, who had been with him five or six years, knew Sir Burnett, as everybody called the Englishman, by sight, and was quite well acquainted with the servant-girl, Suky Wood. While he was bringing in breakfast, he told them all he knew.

Suky, he said, was a tall, strapping girl, with hair red enough to set her bonnets on fire, and graceful enough to be mistaken for a heavy dragoon in female disguise. He had often had long talks with her when she came to fetch some ready-made dish, or to buy some beer, of which she was very fond. She told him she was very pleased with her place, as she got plenty of money, and had, so to say, nothing to do, being left alone in the house for nine months in the year. From her the waiter had also learned that Sir Burnett must have another house, and that he came to Vine Street only to receive visits from a lady.

This lady troubled Suky very much. She declared she had never been able to see the end of her nose even, so very cautious was she in all her movements; but she intended to see her in spite of all.

“And you may be sure she managed to do it some time or other,” Goudar whispered into M. Folgat’s ear.

Finally they learned from this waiter, that Suky had been very intimate with the servant of an old gentleman who lived quite alone in No. 27.

“We must see her,” said Goudar.

Luckily the girl’s master had just gone out, and she was alone in the house. At first she was a little frightened at being called upon and questioned by two unknown men; but the detective knew how to reassure her very quickly, and, as she was a great talker, she confirmed all the waiter at the restaurant had told them, and added some details.

Suky had been very intimate with her; she had never hesitated to tell her that Burnett was not an Englishman; that his name was not Burnett, and that he was concealing himself in Vine Street under a false name, for the purpose of meeting there his lady-love, who was a grand, fine lady, and marvellously beautiful. Finally, at the outbreak of the war, Suky had told her that she was going back to England to her relations. When they left the old bachelor’s house, Goudar said to the young advocate,—

“We have obtained but little information, and the jurymen would pay little attention to it; but there is enough of it to confirm, at least in part, M. de Boiscoran’s statement. We can prove that he met a lady here who had the greatest interest in remaining unknown. Was this, as he says, the Countess Claudieuse? We might find this out from Suky; for she has seen her, beyond all doubt. Hence we must hunt up Suky. And now, let us take our carriage, and go to headquarters. You can wait for me at the café near the Palais de Justice. I shall not be away more than a quarter of an hour.”

It took him, however, a good hour and a half; M. Folgat was beginning to be troubled, when he at last reappeared, looking very well pleased.

“Waiter, a glass of beer!” he said.

And, sitting down so as to face the advocate, he said,—

“I stayed away rather long; but I did not lose any time. In the first place, I procured a month’s leave of absence; then I put my hand upon the very man whom I wanted to send after Sir Burnett and Miss Suky. He is a good fellow, called Barousse, fine like a needle, and speaks English like a native. He demands twenty-five francs a day, his travelling-expenses, and a gratuity of fifteen hundred francs if he succeeds. I have agreed to meet him at six to give him a definite answer. If you accept the conditions, he will leave for England to-night, well drilled by me.”

Instead of any answer, M. Folgat drew from his pocket-book a thousand-franc note, and said,—

“Here is something to begin with.”

Goudar had finished his beer, and said,—

“Well, then, I must leave you. I am going to hang abut M. de Tassar’s house, and make my inquiries. Perhaps I may pick up something there. To-morrow I shall spend my day in searching the house in Vine Street and in questioning all the tradesmen on your list. The day after to-morrow I shall probably have finished here. So that in four or five days there will arrive in Sauveterre a somebody, who will be myself.” And as he got up, he added,—

“For I must save M. de Boiscoran. I will and I must do it. He has too nice a house. Well, we shall see each other at Sauveterre.”

It struck four o’clock. M. Folgat left the café immediately after Goudar, and went down the river to University Street. He was anxious to see the marquis and the marchioness.

“The marchioness is resting,” said the valet; “but the marquis is in his cabinet.”

M. Folgat was shown in, and found him still under the effects of the terrible scene he had undergone in the morning. He had said nothing to his wife that he did not really think; but he was distressed at having said it under such circumstances. And yet he felt a kind of relief; for, to tell the truth, he felt as if the horrible doubts which he had kept secret so many years had vanished as soon as they were spoken out. When he saw M. Folgat, he asked in a sadly-changed voice,—

“Well?”

The young advocate repeated in detail the account given by the marchioness; but he added what the latter had not been able to mention, because she did not know it, the desperate resolution which Jacques had formed. At this revelation the marquis looked utterly overcome.

“The unhappy man!” he cried. “And I accused him of—He thought of killing himself!”

“And we had a great trouble, M. Magloire, and myself,” added M. Folgat, “to overcome his resolution, great trouble to make him understand, that never, under any circumstances, ought an innocent man to think of committing suicide.”

A big tear rolled down the furrowed cheek of the old gentleman; and he murmured,—

“Ah! I have been cruelly unjust. Poor, unhappy child!”

Then he added aloud,—

“But I shall