Phillis hurried to return to the Rue des Moines, to share with her
mother and brother the confidence that Saniel caused her to feel.
She pulled the bell with a trembling hand, for the time was past when
in this quiet house, where all the lodgers knew each other, the key was
left in the door, and one had only to knock before entering. Since the
newspapers had spoken of the button, all was changed; the feeling of
liberty and security had disappeared; the door was always closed, and
when the bell rang they looked at each other in fear and with trembling.
When Florentin opened the door, the table was set for dinner.
“I was afraid something had happened to you,” Madame Cormier said.
“I was detained.”
She took off her hat and cloak hastily.
“You have learned nothing?” the mother asked, bringing in the soup.
“No.”
“They spoke to you of nothing?” Florentin continued in a low voice.
“They spoke to me of nothing else; or I heard only that when I was not
addressed directly.”
“What was said?”
“No one believes that the investigations of the police bear on the
button.”
“You see, Florentin,” Madame Cormier interrupted, smiling at her son.
But he shook his head.
“However, the opinion of all has a value,” Phillis cried.
“Speak lower,” Florentin said.
“It is thought that it is impossible for the police to find, among the
two or three thousand tailors in Paris, all those who use the buttons
marked A. P. And if they did find them, they could not designate all
their customers to whom they have furnished these buttons. It is really
looking for a needle in a bundle of hay.”
“When one takes plenty of time, one finds a needle in a bundle of hay,”
Florentin said.
“You ask me what I heard, and I tell you. But I do not depend entirely
on that. As I passed near the Rue Louis-le-Grand, I went to Doctor
Saniel’s; it being his office hour I hoped to find him.”
“You told him the situation?” Florentin exclaimed.
In any other circumstances she would have replied frankly, explaining
that she had perfect confidence in Saniel; but when she saw her
brother’s agitation, she could not exasperate him by this avowal, above
all, because she could not at the same time give her reasons for her
faith in him. She must reassure him before everything.
“No,” she said, “but I spoke of Caffie to Doctor Saniel without his
being surprised. As he made the first deposition, was it not natural
that my curiosity should wish to learn a little more than the newspapers
tell?”
“Never mind, the act must appear strange.”
“I think not. But, anyhow, the interest that we have to learn all
made me overlook this; and I think, when I have told you the doctor’s
opinion, you will not regret my visit.”
“And this opinion?” Madame Cormier asked.
“His opinion is, that there was no struggle between Caffie and the
assassin, whereas the position of Caffie in the chair where he was
attacked proves that he was surprised. Therefore, if there was no
struggle, there was no button torn off, and all the scaffolding of the
police falls to the ground.”
Madame Cormier breathed a profound sigh of deliverance.
“You see,” she said to her son.
“And the doctor’s opinion is not the opinion of the first-comer, it is
not even that of an ordinary physician. It is that of the physician who
has certified to the death, and who, more than any one, has power,
has authority, to say how it was given--by surprise, without struggle,
without a button being pulled off.”
“It is not Doctor Saniel who directs the search of the police, or
who inspires it,” replied Florentin. “His opinion does not produce a
criminal, while the button can--at least for those who believe in the
struggle; and between the two the police will not hesitate.
“Already the newspapers laugh at them for not having discovered the
assassin, who has rejoined all the others they have let escape. They
must follow the track they have started on, and this track--”
He lowered his voice:
“It will lead them here.”
“To do that they must pass by the Avenue de Clichy, and that seems
unlikely.”
“It is the possible that torments me, and not the unlikely, and you
cannot but recognize that what I fear is possible. I was at Caffies
the day of the crime. I lost there a button torn off by violence.
This button picked up by the police proves, according to them, the
criminality of the one who lost it. They will find that I am the one--”
“They will not find you.”
“Let us admit that they do find me. How should I defend myself?”
“By proving that you were not in the Rue Sainte-Anne between five and
six o’clock, since you were here.”
“And what witnesses will prove this alibi? I have only one--mamma.
What is the testimony of a mother worth in favor of her son in such
circumstances?”
“You will have that of the doctor, affirming that there was no struggle,
and consequently no button torn off.”
“Affirming, but carrying no proof to support his theory; the opinion of
one doctor, which the opinion of another doctor may refute and destroy.
And then, to prove that there was no struggle; Doctor Saniel will say
that Caffie was surprised. Who could surprise Caffie? To open Caffies
door when the clerk was away, it was necessary to ring first, and then
to knock three times in a peculiar way. No stranger could know that, and
who could know it better than I?”
Step by step Phillis defended the ground against her brother; but little
by little the confidence which at first sustained her weakened. With
Saniel she was brave. Between her brother and mother, in this room that
had witnessed their fears, not daring to speak loud, she was downcast,
and let herself be overcome by their anxieties.
“Truly,” she said, “it seems as if we were guilty and not innocent.”
“And while we are tormenting ourselves, the criminal, probably, in
perfect safety laughs at the police investigations; he had not thought
of this button; chance throws it in his way. Luck is for him, and
against us--once more.”
This was the plaint that was often on Florentin’s lips. Although he had
never been a gambler--and for sufficient reason--in his eyes everything
was decided by luck. There are those who are born under a lucky star,
others under an unlucky one. There are those who, in the battle of life,
receive knocks without being discouraged, because they expect something
the next day, as there are those who become discouraged because they
expect nothing, and know by experience that tomorrow will be for them
what today is, what yesterday was. And Florentin was one of these.
“Why did I not stay in America?” he said.
“Because you were too unhappy, my poor boy!” Madame Cormier said, whose
maternal heart was moved by this cry.
“Am I happier here, or shall I be to-morrow? What does this to-morrow,
full of uncertainty and dangers, hold for us?”
“Why do you insist that it has only dangers?” Phillis asked, in a
conciliating and caressing tone.
“You always expect the good.”
“At least I hope for it, and do not admit deliberately that it is
impossible. I do not say that life is always rose-colored, but neither
is it always black. I believe it is like the seasons. After winter,
which is vile, I confess, come the spring, summer, and autumn.”
“Well, if I had the money necessary for the voyage, I would go and pass
the end of the winter in a country where it would be less disagreeable
than here, and, above all, less dangerous for my constitution.”
“You do not say that seriously, I hope?” cried Madame Cormier.
“On the contrary, very seriously.”
“We are hardly reunited, and you think of a separation,” she said,
sadly.
“It is not of a separation that Florentin thinks,” cried Phillis, “but
of a flight.”
“And why not?”
“Because only the guilty fly.”
“It is exactly the contrary. The intelligent criminals stay, and, as
generally they are resolute men, they know beforehand that they are
able to face the danger; while the innocent, timid like myself, or the
unlucky, lose their heads and fly, because they know beforehand, also,
that if a danger threatens them, it will crush them. That is why I would
return to America if I could pay my passage; at least I should feel easy
there.”
There was a moment of silence, during which each one seemed to have no
thought but to finish dinner.
“Granting that this project is not likely,” Florentin said, “I have
another idea.”
“Why do you have ideas?” Phillis asked.
“I wish you were in my place; we should see if you would not have them.”
“I assure you that I am in your place, and that your trouble is mine,
only it does not betray itself in the same manner. But what is your
idea?”
“It is to find Valerius and tell him all.”
“And who will answer to us for Valerius’s discretion?” asked Madame
Cormier. “Would it not be the greatest imprudence that you could commit?
One cannot play with a secret of this importance.”
“Valerius is an honest man.”
“It is because he cannot work when political, or rather patriotic,
affairs go wrong, that you say this.”
“And why not? With a poor man who lives in a small way by his work, are
not this care and pride in his country marks of an honorable heart?”
“I grant the honorable heart, but it is another reason for being prudent
with him,” Phillis said. “Precisely because he may be what you think,
reserve is necessary. You tell him what is passed. If he accepts it and
your innocence, it is well; he will not betray your secret voluntarily
nor by stupidity. But he will not accept it; he will look beyond. He
will suppose that you wish to deceive him, and he will suspect you. In
that case, would he not go and tell all to the police commissioner of
our quarter? As for me, I think it is a danger that it would be foolish
to risk.”
“And, according to you, what is to be done?”
“Nothing; that is, wait, since there are a thousand chances against one
for our uneasiness, and we exaggerate those that may never be realized.”
“Well, let us wait,” he said. “Moreover, I like that; at the least, I
have no responsibilities. What can happen will happen.”