The Essential Maurice Leblanc Collection. Морис Леблан
"Then he would be here still, as you never left the pavement."
The man reflected and said, slowly:
"That's so ... that's so ... and I did not go far from the gate either.... Still ..."
"Let us see, who was the last person you saw with the baron?"
"Mlle. Antoinette, the companion."
"What has become of her?"
"I should say that, as her bed was not even touched, she must have taken advantage of Soeur Auguste's absence to go out also. It would only half surprise me if she had: she is young ... and pretty...."
"But how could she have got out?"
"Through the door."
"You pushed the bolt and fastened the chain!"
"A good deal later! By that time, she must have left the house."
"And the crime was committed, you think, after she went?"
"Of course."
They searched the house from top to bottom, from the garrets to the cellars; but the murderer had fled. How? When? Was it he or an accomplice who had thought proper to return to the scene of the crime and do away with anything that might have betrayed him? Those were the questions that suggested themselves to the police.
* * * * *
The divisional surgeon came upon the scene at seven o'clock, the head of the detective-service at eight. Next came the turn of the public prosecutor and the examining magistrate. In addition, the house was filled with policemen, inspectors, journalists, Baron d'Hautrec's nephew and other members of the family.
They rummaged about, they studied the position of the body, according to Charles's recollection, they questioned Soeur Auguste the moment she arrived. They discovered nothing. At most, Soeur Auguste was surprised at the disappearance of Antoinette Brhat. She had engaged the girl twelve days before, on the strength of excellent references, and refused to believe that she could have abandoned the sick man confided to her care, to go running about at night alone.
"All the more so," the examining magistrate insisted, "as, in that case, she would have been in before now. We therefore come back to the same point: what has become of her?"
"If you ask me," said Charles, "she has been carried off by the murderer."
The suggestion was plausible enough and fitted in with certain details. The head of the detective service said:
"Carried off? Upon my word, it's quite likely."
"It's not only unlikely," said a voice, "but absolutely opposed to the facts, to the results of the investigation, in short, to the evidence itself."
The voice was harsh, the accent gruff and no one was surprised to recognize Ganimard. He alone, besides, would be forgiven that rather free and easy way of expressing himself.
"Hullo, is that you, Ganimard?" cried M. Dudouis. "I hadn't seen you."
"I have been here for two hours."
"So you do take an interest in something besides number 514, series 23, the Rue Clapeyron mystery, the blonde lady and Arsne Lupin?"
"Hee, hee!" grinned the old inspector. "I won't go so far as to declare that Lupin has nothing to do with the case we're engaged on.... But let us dismiss the story of the lottery-ticket from our minds, until further orders, and look into this matter."
* * * * *
Ganimard is not one of those mighty detectives whose proceedings form a school, as it were, and whose names will always remain inscribed on the judicial annals of Europe. He lacks the flashes of genius that illumine a Dupin, a Lecoq or a Holmlock Shears. But he possesses first-rate average qualities: perspicacity, sagacity, perseverance and even a certain amount of intuition. His greatest merit lies in the fact that he is absolutely independent of outside influences. Short of a kind of fascination which Arsne Lupin wields over him, he works without allowing himself to be biased or disturbed.
At any rate, the part which he played that morning did not lack brilliancy and his assistance was of the sort which a magistrate is able to appreciate.
"To start with," he began, "I will ask Charles here to be very definite on one point: were all the objects which, on the first occasion, he saw upset or disturbed put back, on the second, exactly in their usual places?"
"Exactly."
"It is obvious, therefore, that they can only have been put back by a person to whom the place of each of those objects was familiar."
The remark impressed the bystanders. Ganimard resumed:
"Another question, Mr. Charles.... You were woke by a ring.... Who was it, according to you, that called you?"
"Monsieur le baron, of course."
"Very well. But at what moment do you take it that he rang?"
"After the struggle ... at the moment of dying."
"Impossible, because you found him lying, lifeless, at a spot more than four yards removed from the bell-push."
"Then he rang during the struggle."
"Impossible, because the bell, you told us, rang steadily, without interruption, and went on for seven or eight seconds. Do you think that his assailant would have given him time to ring like that?"
"Then it was before, at the moment when he was attacked."
"Impossible. You told us that, between the ring of the bell and the instant when you entered the room, three minutes elapsed, at most. If, therefore, the baron had rung before, it would be necessary for the struggle, the murder, the dying agony and the flight to have taken place within that short space of three minutes. I repeat, it is impossible."
"And yet," said the examining magistrate, "some one rang. If it was not the baron, who was it?"
"The murderer."
"With what object?"
"I can't tell his object. But at least the fact that he rang proves that he must have known that the bell communicated with a servant's bedroom. Now who could have known this detail except a person belonging to the house?"
The circle of suppositions was becoming narrower. In a few quick, clear, logical sentences, Ganimard placed the question in its true light; and, as the old inspector allowed his thoughts to appear quite plainly, it seemed only natural that the examining magistrate should conclude:
"In short, in two words, you suspect Antoinette Brhat."
"I don't suspect her; I accuse her."
"You accuse her of being the accomplice?"
"I accuse her of killing General Baron d'Hautrec."
"Come, come! And what proof...?"
"This handful of hair, which I found in the victim's right hand, dug into his flesh by the points of his nails."
He showed the hair; it was hair of a brilliant fairness, gleaming like so many threads of gold; and Charles muttered:
"That is certainly Mlle. Antoinette's hair. There is no mistaking it." And he added, "Besides ... there's something more.... I believe the knife ... the one I didn't see the second time ... belonged to her.... She used it to cut the pages of the books."
The silence that followed was long and painful, as though the crime increased in horror through having been committed by a woman. The examining magistrate argued:
"Let