Nibet went off duty at five in the morning, and returned to his own home
to go to bed. As a general rule he slept like a top, after a night on
duty, but on this occasion he could not close an eye, being far too
uneasy about the consequences of his co-operation in Gurn's escape.
A few minutes before six in the evening he had taken advantage of no
warders being about to slip Gurn from cell number 127 into number 129,
whence he could make his way to the roof. At six, when he actually came
on duty, Nibet opened the peephole in the door of number 127, as he did
in all the others, and saw that Gurn had made an admirable dummy figure
in the bed: it was so good that it even deceived a head warder who made
a single rapid inspection of all the cells when Nibet was on one of his
several rounds during the night. Obviously Gurn must have got clear away
from the prison, for if he had been caught it would certainly have
become generally known.
These reflections somewhat comforted the restless man, but he knew that
the most difficult part of his task was still before him: the difficulty
of simulating astonishment and distress when he should get back to the
prison presently and be told by his fellow-warders of the prisoner's
escape, and the difficulty of answering in a natural manner to the close
interrogation to which he would be subjected by the governor and the
police, and possibly even M. Fuselier, who would be in a fine rage when
he learned that his captive had escaped him. Nibet meant to pretend
ignorance and even stupidity. He would far rather be called a fool, than
found out to be a knave and an accomplice.
About half-past eleven Nibet got up; Gurn's escape must certainly be
known at the prison by this time. The warder on duty would have gone to
the cell about seven to wake the prisoner, and though nothing might have
been detected then, the cell would infallibly have been found to be
empty at eight o'clock, when the morning broth was taken round. And
then----
As he walked from his home round to the prison, Nibet met the gang of
masons coming out for dinner; he crossed the street towards them, hoping
to hear some news, but they passed by him in silence, one or two of them
giving a careless nod or word of greeting; at first Nibet took their
silence for a bad sign, thinking they might have been warned to give him
no alarm, but he reflected that if Gurn's escape were discovered, as it
surely must be, the authorities would probably prefer not to let the
matter become widely known.
As he reached the porter's lodge his heart beat violently. What would
old Morin have to tell him? But old Morin was very busy trying to make
his kitchen fire burn properly instead of sending all the smoke pouring
out into the room; the old man's slovenly figure was just visible in a
clearing in the smoke, and he returned Nibet's salutation with nothing
more than a silent salute.
"That's funny!" thought Nibet, and he passed through the main courtyard
towards the clerks' offices at the end. Through the windows he could see
the staff, a few bending over their work, most of them reading
newspapers, none of them obviously interested in anything special. Next
he presented himself before the warders' turnkey, and again he was
allowed to pass on without a word.
By this time Gurn's accomplice was in a state of such nervous tension
that he could hardly restrain himself from catching hold of one or other
of the warders whom he saw at their work, and asking them questions. How
could the escape of so important a prisoner as the man who had murdered
Lord Beltham create so little excitement as this? Nibet longed to rush
up the flights of stairs to number 127 and interrogate the warder who
had gone on duty after himself, and whom he was now about to relieve in
turn. He must surely know all about it. But it would not do to create
suspicion, and Nibet had sufficient self-control left to go upstairs at
his usual leisurely pace. Outwardly calm and steady, he reached his post
just as the clock was striking twelve; he was ever punctuality itself,
and he was due on duty at noon.
"Well, Colas," he said to his colleague, "here I am; you can go now."
"Good!" said the warder. "I'll be off at once. I'm on again at six
to-night," and he moved away.
"Everything all right?" Nibet enquired, in a tone he tried to make as
casual as possible, but that trembled a little nevertheless.
"Quite," said Colas, perfectly naturally, and he went away.
* * * * *
Nibet could contain himself no longer, and the next second he threw
caution to the winds: rushing to Gurn's cell he flung the door open.
Gurn was there, sitting on the foot of his bed with his legs crossed and
a note-book on his knees, making notes with the quietest attention: he
scarcely appeared to notice Nibet's violent invasion.
"Oh! So you are there?" stammered the astonished warder.
Gurn raised his head and looked at the warder with a cryptic gaze.
"Yes, I'm here."
All manner of notions crowded through Nibet's brain, but he could find
words for none of them. Had the plot been discovered before Gurn had had
time to get away, or had a trap been laid for himself through the medium
of one of the prisoners to test his own incorruptibility? Nibet went
white, and leaned against the wall for support. At last Gurn spoke
again, reassuring him with a smile.
"Don't look so miserable," he said. "I am here. That is a matter of
absolutely no importance. We will suppose that nothing passed between us
yesterday, and--that's an end to it."
"So you haven't gone, you didn't go?" said Nibet again.
"No," Gurn replied; "since you are so interested, all I need say is that
I was afraid to risk it at the last minute."
Nibet had cast a keen and experienced eye all over the cell; under the
washstand he saw the little bundle of clothes which he had brought the
prisoner the previous day. He rightly opined that the first thing to do
was to remove these dangerous articles, whose presence in Gurn's cell
would appear very suspicious if they happened to be discovered. He took
the bundle and was hurriedly stowing it away under his own clothes, when
he uttered an exclamation of surprise; the things were wet, and he knew
from his own experience that the rain had never ceased throughout the
whole of the night.
"Gurn," he said reproachfully, "you are up to some trick! These things
are soaked. You must have gone out last night, or these things would not
be like this."
Gurn smiled sympathetically at the warder.
"Not so bad!" he remarked; "that's pretty good reasoning for a mere
gaoler." And as Nibet was about to press the matter, Gurn anticipated
his questions, and made frank confession. "Well, yes, I did try to get
out,--got as far as the clerk's office last evening, but at the last
minute I funked it, and went back on to the roof. But when I got into
number 129 again I found I could not get back into my own cell, for, as
you know, 129 was locked outside; so to avoid detection I returned to
the roof and spent the night there; at daybreak I took advantage of the
little disturbance caused by the workmen coming in, and slipped down
from the roof just as they were going up. As soon as I found myself on
this floor I ran along this corridor and slipped into my cell. When your
friend Colas brought me my broth he did not notice that my cell was
unlocked,--and there you are!"
The explanation was not altogether convincing, but Nibet listened to it
and pondered the situation. On the whole, it was much better that things
should be as they were, but the warder was wondering how the great lady,
who paid so mighty well, might take the matter. She most certainly had
not promised so large a sum of money, nor paid the good round sum of ten
thousand francs down in advance, merely in order that Gurn might have a
little walk upon the tiles. What was to be done with regard to that
personage? With much ingenuousness Nibet confided his anxiety to the
prisoner, who laughed.
"It's not all over yet," he declared. "Indeed, it is only just
beginning. What if we only wanted to test you, and prove your quality?
Make your mind easy, Nibet. If Gurn is in prison at the present moment
it is because he has his own reasons for being there. But who is able to
predict the future?"
It was time for Gurn to go to the exercise yard, and Nibet, reassuming
the uncompromising attitude that all warders ought to maintain when in
custody of prisoners, led the murderer down to the courtyard.
* * * * *
In his office at the Law Courts, M. Fuselier was having a private
interview with Juve, and listening with much interest to what the clever
detective inspector was saying to him.
"I tell you again, sir, I attach great importance to the finding of this
ordnance map in Gurn's rooms."
"Yes?" said M. Fuselier, with a touch of scepticism.
"And I will tell you why," Juve went on. "About a year ago, when I was
engaged on the case of the murder of the Marquise de Langrune at her
château of Beaulieu, down in Lot, I found a small piece of a map showing
the district in which I was at the time. I took it to M. de Presles, the
magistrate who was conducting the enquiry. He attached no importance to
it, and I myself could not see at the time that it gave us any new
evidence."
"Quite so," said M. Fuselier. "There is nothing particularly remarkable
in finding a map, or a piece of a map, showing a district, in the
district itself."
"Those are M. de Presles' very words to me," said Juve with a smile.
"And I will give you the same answer I gave him, namely, that if some
day we could find the other portion of the map which completed the first
piece we found, and could identify the owner of the two portions, there
would then be a formal basis on which to proceed to base an argument."
"Proceed to base it," M. Fuselier suggested.
"That's very easy," said Juve. "The fragment of map numbered 1, found at
Beaulieu, belongs to X. I do not know who X is; but in Paris, in Gurn's
rooms, I find the fragment of map numbered 2, which belongs to Gurn. If
it turns out, as I expect, that the two fragments of map, when placed
together, form a single and complete whole, I shall conclude logically
that X, who was the owner of fragment number 1, is the same as the owner
of fragment number 2, to wit, Gurn."
"How are you going to find out?" enquired M. Fuselier.
"It is in order to find it out that we have sent for Dollon," Juve
replied. "He was steward to the late Marquise de Langrune, and has all
the circumstantial evidence relating to that case. If he has still got
the fragment of map, it will be simplicity itself to prove what I have
suggested, and perhaps to make the identification I suggest."
"Yes," said M. Fuselier, "but if you do succeed, will it be of really
great importance in your opinion? Will you be able to infer from that
one fact that Gurn and the man who murdered the Marquise de Langrune are
one and the same person? Is not that going rather far? Especially as, if
I remember rightly, it was proved that the murderer in that case was the
son of a M. Rambert, and this young Rambert committed suicide after the
crime?"
Juve evaded the issue.
"Well, we shall see," was all he said.
* * * * *
The magistrate's clerk came into the room and unceremoniously
interrupted the conversation.
"It has gone two, sir," he said. "There are some prisoners to examine,
and a whole lot of witnesses," and he placed two bulky bundles of papers
before the magistrate and waited for a sign to call the various persons,
free or otherwise, whom the magistrate had to see.
The first bundle caught Juve's attention. It was endorsed "Royal Palace
Hotel Case."
"Anything new about the robbery from Mme. Van den Rosen and Princess
Sonia Danidoff?" he enquired, and as the magistrate shook his head, he
added, "Are you going to examine Muller now?"
"Yes," said the magistrate; "at once."
"And after that you are to examine Gurn, aren't you, in connection with
the Beltham case?"
"Quite so."
"I wish you would oblige me by confronting the two men here, in my
presence."
M. Fuselier looked up in surprise: he could not see what connection
there could be between the two utterly dissimilar cases. What object
could Juve have in wanting the man who had murdered Lord Beltham to be
confronted with the unimportant little hotel servant who had really been
arrested rather as a concession to public opinion than because he was
actually deemed capable of burglary or attempted burglary? Might not
Juve, with his known mania for associating all crimes with each other,
be going just a little too far in the present instance?
"You have got some idea in the back of your head?" said M. Fuselier.
"I've got a--a scar in the palm of my hand," Juve answered with a smile,
and as the magistrate confessed that he failed to understand, Juve
enlightened him. "We know that the man who did that robbery at the Royal
Palace Hotel burned his hand badly when he was cutting the electric
wires in the Princess's bathroom. Well, a few weeks ago, while I was on
the look out for someone with a scar from such a wound, I was told of a
man who was prowling about the slums. I had the fellow followed up, and
the very night the hunt began I was going to arrest him, when, a good
deal to my surprise, I discovered that he was no other than Gurn. He
escaped me that time, but when he was caught later on I found that he
has an unmistakable scar inside the palm of his right hand; it is fading
now, for the burn was only superficial, but it is there. Now do you see
my idea?"
"Yes, I do," the magistrate exclaimed, "and I am all the more glad to
hear of it, since I am to have both the men here now. Shall I have
Muller in first?"
Juve assented....
"So you still refuse to confess?" said the magistrate at last. "You
still maintain that your--extraordinary--order to let the red-haired
waiter out, was given in good faith?"
"Yes, yes, yes, sir," the night watchman answered. "That very evening a
new servant had joined the staff. I had not even set eyes on him. When I
saw this--stranger----, I took him to be the servant who had been
engaged the day before, and I told them to open the door for him. That
is the real truth."
"And that is all?"
"That is positively all."
"We are only charging you with complicity," the magistrate went on, "for
the man who touched the electric wires burned his hand; that is a strong
point in your favour. And you also say that if the thief were put before
you, you could recognise him?"
"Yes," said the man confidently.
"Good!" said M. Fuselier, and he signed to his clerk to call in another
personage.
The clerk understood, and Gurn was brought in between two municipal
guards, and was followed by the young licentiate in law, Maître Roger de
Seras, who represented his leader at most of these preliminary
examinations. As Gurn came in, with the light from the window falling
full on his face, M. Fuselier gave a curt order.
"Muller, turn round and look at this man!"
Muller obeyed, and surveyed with some bewilderment, and without the
least comprehension, the bold head and the well-built, muscular frame of
Lord Beltham's murderer. Gurn did not flinch.
"Do you recognise that man?" the magistrate demanded.
Muller ransacked his brains and looked again at Gurn, then shook his
head.
"No, sir."
"Gurn, open your right hand," the magistrate ordered. "Show it," and he
turned again to Muller. "The man before you seems to have been burned in
the palm of the hand, as that scar shows. Can you not remember having
seen that man at the Royal Palace Hotel?"
Muller looked steadily at Gurn.
"On my honour, sir, although it would be to my interest to recognise
him, I am bound to acknowledge that I really and truly don't."
M. Fuselier had a brief conversation aside with Juve, and then, the
detective appearing to agree with him, turned once more to the night
watchman.
"Muller," he said, "the court is pleased with your frankness. You will
be set free provisionally, but you are to hold yourself at the disposal
of the court of enquiry," and he signed to the municipal guards to lead
the gratefully protesting man away.
Meanwhile Gurn's case appeared to him to be becoming much more serious,
and much more interesting. He had the prisoner placed in front of him,
while Juve, who had withdrawn into a dark corner of the room, never took
his eyes off the murderer.
"Gurn," he began, "can you give me an account of your time during the
second half of December of last year?"
Gurn was unprepared for the point-blank question, and made a gesture of
doubt. M. Fuselier, probably anticipating a sensation, was just on the
point of ordering Dollon to be called, when he was interrupted by a
discreet tap on the door. His clerk went to answer it, and saw a
gendarme standing at the door. At almost the first words he said, the
clerk uttered an exclamation and wheeled round to the magistrate.
"Oh, M. Fuselier, listen! They have just told me----"
But the gendarme had come in. He saluted the magistrate and handed him a
letter which M. Fuselier hastily tore open and read.
"To M. Germain Fuselier, Examining Magistrate,
The Law Courts, Paris.
"The special commissioner at Brétigny station has the honour
to report that this morning at 8 A.M. the police informed
him of the discovery on the railway line, five kilomètres
from Brétigny on the Orléans side, of the dead body of a man
who must either have fallen accidentally or been thrown
intentionally from a train bound for Paris. The body had
been mutilated by a train travelling in the other
direction, but papers found on the person of the deceased,
and in particular a summons found in his pocket, show that
his name was Dollon, and that he was on his way to Paris to
wait upon you.
"The special commissioner at Brétigny station has, quite
late, been informed of the following facts: passengers who
left the train on its arrival at the Austerlitz terminus at
5 A.M. were examined by the special commissioner at that
station, and subsequently allowed to go. Possibly you have
already been informed. We have, however, thought it our
duty, after having searched the body, to report this
identification to you, and have therefore requisitioned an
officer of the police at Brétigny to convey to you the
information contained in this communication."
* * * * *
M. Fuselier had turned pale as he read this letter. He handed it to
Juve. With feverish haste the famous detective read it through and
wheeled round to the gendarme.
"Tell me, do you know what has been done? Do you know if this man's
papers, all his papers, were found and have been preserved?"
The man shook his head in ignorance. Juve clasped the magistrate's hand.
"I'm off to Brétigny this instant," he said in a low tone.
Throughout this incident Maître Roger de Seras had remained in a state
of blank incomprehension.
Gurn's face was more expressionless and impenetrable than ever.