"How many will there be?"
"Five or six."
"Women, too?"
"No, only my girl. But you can bet we shan't be bored!" With these
words, Loupart walked away. He stopped a little later at the second
house in the Rue Goutte d'Or, a decent-looking house with carpet on the
stairs.
On reaching the fifth floor, he knocked several times on the door facing
him, but without reply. This annoyed him; he didn't like Josephine to
sleep late, and he expected her to be always ready when he condescended
to come and fetch her.
Josephine was a pretty burnisher from Belleville, and Loupart, who had
met her at a ball in that quarter six months ago had made her his
favourite mistress.
Among the bullies and drabs that frequented the place, Josephine had
appeared to him seductive, charming, almost virginal, and the popular
hooligan had promptly chosen her from her sisters of the underworld.
Certainly Josephine had no reason to complain of her lover's conduct,
and if at times he demanded of her a blind submission, he never treated
her with that fierce brutality which characterised most of his fellows.
But if Josephine had felt any leaning toward a good life, or any
scruples of conscience, she must necessarily have thrown them overboard
as soon as her connection with Loupart began. With a different start in
life she might have become an honest little woman, but circumstances
made her the mistress of a hooligan ring-leader, and, everything
considered, she had a certain pride in being so, without imitating the
vulgar and brutal behaviour of her companions.
At the third summons, Loupart, none too patient, drove the door in with
a vigorous shove of his shoulders.
Josephine's apartment, a comfortable and spacious room, with a fine
bird's-eye view of Paris, was empty.
Fancying his mistress was at some neighbour's gossiping, he bawled:
"Josephine! Come here!"
Heads appeared, looking anxiously out of rooms on the same floor.
"Where is Josephine?" Loupart cried.
Mme. Guinon came forward.
"I don't know," she replied, stammering. "She complained of pains in her
stomach last evening, and I was told she's gone."
"Gone? Gone where?" stormed Loupart.
"Why, I don't know; it was Julie who told me."
A freckled face, half hidden by a matted shock of hair, appeared. Julie
was not reticent like her mother. She explained in a hoarse, alcoholic
voice:
"It's quite simple. When I came in last night about four I heard groans
in Josephine's room. I went to see and found Josephine writhing in pain
as if she had been--poisoned."
"What did you do then?"
"Oh, nothing," declared Julie. "I just trotted away again; it wasn't my
business, but the Flirt came and meddled in it."
"The Flirt! Where is she?"
The Flirt, a faded, wrinkled woman of fifty, appeared from a doorway
where she had been listening.
"Where is Josephine?" demanded Loupart.
"At Lâriboisière hospital, ward 22, since you want to know."
After a moment's amazement, Loupart broke out furiously:
"You sent off Josephine in the middle of the night! You took her to a
hospital for a little indigestion! Without asking my consent! Why she's
no more ill than I am!"
"Have to believe she is," replied the Flirt, "since the 'probes' have
kept her."
Loupart turned and tramped downstairs swearing.
"She'll come out of that a damned sight quicker than she went in!"
A few moments later Loupart entered Father Korn's saloon. Having set
forth his plans to that worthy, the latter proceeded to demolish them.
"You can't do anything to-day, so there's no use trying. You'll have to
wait till to-morrow at midday, the proper visiting hour."
Loupart recognised the truth of the publican's assertion and, calling
for writing paper, sat down and scrawled a letter to his mistress.
"Motor," he cried to the cripple who was still at Mother Toulouche's
basket, "tumble along with this note to Lâriboisière; look sharp, and
when you get back I'll stand you a glass."
As the cripple hurried away he was all but knocked down by a newsboy,
running and shouting:
"Extra! Extra! Get _The Capital_. Extraordinary and mysterious crime of
the Cité Frochot. Murder of a woman."
"Shall I get a copy?" asked the publican.
Loupart stalked out of the saloon without turning.
"Oh, I know all about that," he cried.
Father Korn stood rooted to the spot at Loupart's answer.
"What! He knows already!"
VI
THE LÂRIBOISIÈRE HOSPITAL
The clerk, who had admitted Juve, withdrew, and M. de Maufil, the
amiable director, gave the police officer his most gracious smile.
"When I applied this morning at headquarters for an officer to be sent
here, I scarcely expected to receive so celebrated a detective, upon a
matter which is really very commonplace."
"Your letter to M. Havard mentioned a person I have been looking for
with the greatest interest for the past two days. Loupart, alias 'The
Square,'" replied Juve, "that is why I came myself. What is it about,
sir?"
"Well, the day before yesterday, we took in at the instance of Doctor
Patel, a patient suffering from acute gastric trouble. The woman gave us
for identification the name of Josephine, no calling, residing in Paris,
Rue de Goutte d'Or, in furnished rooms. Some hours after her admission
to the hospital, she received a letter, brought by a messenger, which
threw her into a violent state of terror. The nurse on duty sent for me,
and I succeeded, after great difficulty, in quieting her; but she
insisted most emphatically on leaving the hospital at once. The poor
creature was in a high fever, and to grant her request would have been
sending her to her death. At length she intrusted me with the letter
which had excited her so. Here it is, kindly look it over."
Juve took the letter and read:
"Am just back from the doss. You ain't there, and I don't want any
more of these dodges. You are no more ill than I am. See here,
you'll either leave the hospital and slope back to the house right
off or to-morrow, Friday, at visiting time, as sure as my name's
what it is, you'll get two bullets in your hide to teach you to
hold your tongue."
Juve gave a grunt of satisfaction.
"You understand what is going on?" asked the director.
"Yes, but please go on with your story."
"Well, sir, you can guess that having read this letter, I easily got
from the girl some information as to the writer. According to what she
told me this Loupart is her lover, and he seems to have in a high degree
that inconceivable pride which causes folks of his class, when they
have sworn to kill some one, to carry out their threat, no matter what
risk they may run themselves. The girl, Josephine, is convinced that
to-morrow Loupart will come and kill her."
"You have told her that all precautions will be taken?"
"Of course. I pointed out to her that people do not come in here as they
do into a bar; that being warned, I should have all the visitors watched
who come here and asked to see her. I repeated to her that her lover
probably wanted to frighten her, but that he could not do anything to
injure her. I insisted that in the state she was in it was physically
impossible for her to obey that wretch's bidding."
"And what was her answer to that?"
"Nothing. Her attack of alarm having subsided she seemed to fall into a
condition of extreme prostration. I realised quite well that she
regarded herself as condemned, that she had a far higher opinion of
Loupart's daring than of my watchfulness, and, lastly, if she stayed it
was because she realised that it was out of the question for her, in her
weak state, to go back to her home."
While the director was speaking, Juve had retained a smiling and
satisfied expression, seeming but little affected by Josephine's
terrible plight.
"I should very much like to know," continued the director, "why you said
you knew the reasons for the threat being sent by this man to his
mistress?"
Juve hesitated some moments; then, without going into details, said: "It
would take too long to recount the motives which prompted Loupart to
write that letter. This Josephine whom you see to-day trembling at her
lover's threat not so long ago supplied the police with valuable hints
concerning him. Has he learned that? Does he know the woman has rounded
on him? Did he fear, above all, that she would tell tales again here at
the hospital? It is quite possible. You see he must have had very strong
reasons for giving her the order to come home----"
Juve here broke off, fingering Loupart's letter; then at length he
placed it in his pocketbook.
"I will keep this document, director; it is a tangible proof of
Loupart's criminal intentions. If he should put his threats into
practice it would be difficult after that to deny premeditation."
"You think that such a thing is possible?"
"Don't you?"
"Loupart declares he will come to the hospital before three and kill his
mistress, but surely it must be easy to render that impossible."
"You think the police are all-powerful, that we can arrest would-be
murderers and render them incapable of harm? That is an error. We are
prevented from taking effective action by a swarm of regulations. If I
met Loupart on the street I would not be able to arrest him. I have no
warrant. When a man holds his life cheap and is determined to risk
everything, he has a pretty good chance of succeeding. Of course I shall
take every measure to prevent Loupart killing his mistress, but I'm not
at all sure of success."
"But M. Juve, we must have this girl Josephine transferred to another
hospital if necessary."
Juve shook his head.
"And show Loupart we are aware of his purpose? Flatter the ruffian's
vanity? No, we must let Loupart come, and catch him as he is about to
commit the crime."
"What do you propose to do?"
"Study the hospital; arrange where to place my men," replied Juve.
"In that case, I will do everything I can to help you." M. de Maufil
rang for an attendant and bade him take Juve to Doctor Patel's
department.
Juve thanked the obliging director and took leave. The attendant
pointed to a row of windows under the roof.
"Doctor Patel's division begins at the corner window and runs to the
window near the cornice."
"What are the means of access to the female ward?"
"Oh, that's quite simple, sir; you get into the woman's ward either by
the door on the staircase or by the door at the back, which leads into
the laboratory of the head physician, the room of the house surgeon on
duty, and the departmental offices."
"And how do visitors pass in?"
"Visitors always go up the main staircase."
"Now," said Juve, "show me over Doctor Patel's division."
"Very good, sir. It will be all the more interesting to you, as it is
just the visiting hour."
When Juve made his way into the woman's ward, Doctor Patel was actually
in process of seeing his patients. He was passing from bed to bed,
questioning each of the women under treatment and listening to the
comments of the house staff who followed him.
"Gentlemen," the doctor was saying as Juve joined the group, "the
patient we have just seen affords a very excellent and typical instance
of intermittent fever. The serum tests have not given any appreciable
result; it is therefore impossible to arrive at----"
A hand was laid on Juve's shoulder.
"Why, the tests are always absolutely indicative! Palpable typhoid, eh?
What do you think?"
Juve turned his head and could not suppress a cry of surprise.
"Doctor Chaleck!"
"What! M. Juve!--You here! Were you looking for me?"
Juve was dumbfounded. He drew Chaleck aside.
"Then you're attached to this hospital?"
"Oh, I have only leave to attend the courses."
"And I came here out of curiosity."
"In any case, allow me to thank you for the service you rendered me the
other day. The officer who was with you seemed to take me for the guilty
man."
"Well, you see, appearances...."
"But if anyone was a victim it was I. Apart from the finding of the
murdered woman in my house, I have been robbed!"
Here the doctor broke off. A house surgeon was beckoning to him.
"Forgive me," he said to Juve. "I cannot keep my colleague waiting."
Leaving Chaleck, Juve went back to the attendant who had patiently
waited for him.
"Stranger than ever!" he murmured. "There is no making it all out.
Josephine writes that Loupart means to rob Chaleck. I track Loupart and
he gives me the slip. I spend a night in a room where I see nothing, and
where nevertheless a horrible amazing crime is committed. The murder
takes place scarce a yard from me, and the doctor, the tenant of the
house, sees nothing either, and does not even know the victim who is
found next morning on his premises! Thereupon our informant, Josephine,
goes into hospital; pain in the stomach, they say--hem! Poison, maybe?
Then she gets a threatening letter from Loupart. And when I come to the
hospital to protect her, whom do I meet but Doctor Chaleck!"
Juve, turning to the attendant who was escorting him, asked:
"You know the person I was speaking to just now?"
"Doctor Chaleck? Yes, sir."
"What is his business here?"
"He is a foreign doctor, I believe. I should fancy a Belgian. Anyhow, he
is allowed by the authorities to follow the clinical courses and make
researches in the laboratory."
VII
A REVOLVER SHOT
Doctor Patel's division presented an unusually animated appearance that
afternoon. Not only were the patients allowed to receive visitors, but
quite a number of strange doctors had spent the day going from bed to
bed, note-books in hand, studying the patients and their temperature
charts. The nurses hesitated to call these individuals doctors, and the
patients, too, seemed aware of their true status. Whispers were hushed,
and all eyes turned toward the far end of the ward.
There, in a bed set slightly apart and near the house staff's quarters,
lay Josephine, a prey to a racking fever and breathing with difficulty.
Exactly opposite her was the bed of an old woman who had been admitted
that morning. Her face had almost entirely disappeared under voluminous
bandages.
As the ward clock struck a quarter to three, an attendant appeared and
announced:
"In ten minutes visitors will be requested to leave."
Two of the staff who had paced the ward since early in the day exchanged
a smile.
"Here's the end of the farce," remarked one; "Loupart isn't coming."
"He said three; there are still thirteen minutes left," replied the
other.
"Well, every precaution is taken."
"Precautions are of no use with men like Loupart."
"Eleven minutes left."
"What the devil could happen? There is no longer admission to the
hospital; the visitors are leaving."
"Three minutes!"
"Look here, you'll end by making me think..."
"Two minutes."
"Well, own yourself beaten!"
"One minute."
Bang! Bang! Two shots from a revolver suddenly startled the silent ward.
There was a moment's consternation and uproar. The patients leaped from
their beds and sought refuge in the corners of the ward, while the two
house surgeons and the policemen, passing as doctors, rushed in a body
toward Josephine's bed. Doors slammed. People came hurrying from all
quarters.
Above the hubbub rose a calm voice.
"What the devil! Here I am drenched! What does that mean?"
The house surgeon reached the bed where the hopeless Josephine lay,
white as a corpse, motionless. A large red blood stain was spreading on
her sheet. Quickly the doctor uncovered the wounded woman and examined
her.
"Fainted, she has only fainted!" And, silencing all comments, he called:
"Monsieur Juve! Monsieur Juve!"
The old woman who, a few moments before, had been dozing, now quickly
sprang out of bed, and, tearing off her bandages, revealed the placid
features of detective Juve.
"I understand everything except that I'm drenched to the bones,"
declared Juve, as he crossed to Josephine's bed, oblivious to the
amazement his appearance caused.
"That's easily explained," said the house surgeon. "The girl was lying
on a rubber mattress filled with water. One of the bullets punctured
it."
"What damage did she receive?"
"A contusion on the shoulder. The murderer aimed badly owing to her
recumbent position."
Juve beckoned to the officers.
"Your report? You've seen nothing?"
"Nothing."
"That's strange," declared the detective. "I kept an eye on Josephine
myself, thinking that a movement on her part would betray the entrance
of Loupart. She made no sign; but, however Loupart may have got in, he
can't get out without falling into a trap. I have fifty men posted round
the building. Now, the first point to clear up is the exact place from
where the shot was fired."
"How can we get at that?"
"Very simply. By drawing an imaginary line between the spot where the
bullet struck the mattress and where it went into the floor--extend this
line and we find the quarter from where the shot was fired." A doctor
came forward.
"M. Juve," he said, "that would bring us to the door of the staff's
room."
"Ah, it's you, Doctor Chaleck! I'm glad to see you! You are quite right
in your surmise. Do you see any objection to my reasoning?"
"I do. I came into the ward barely two seconds before the firing. No one
was behind me and no one was walking before me."
Juve crossed to the door.
"It is from here that the shots were fired!"
And the detective added triumphantly as he stooped and picked up an
object from the floor:
"And this backs up my assertion!"
He held out a revolver, still loaded in four chambers. "A precious bit
of evidence!" He turned to the doctor:
"Can a stranger get into the wards by this door?"
"Utterly impossible, M. Juve! Only those thoroughly familiar with
Lâriboisière can get into the ward through the laboratory. You must pass
through the surgical divisions."
The detective seated himself at the foot of the sick woman's bed and
mechanically laid the revolver beside him. But scarcely had he done so
when he sprang up. Upon the sheet was a tiny red speck left by the
muzzle of the weapon.
"Ah!--that's very instructive!" he cried. And as the others crowded
round, puzzled, Juve added: "Don't you see? The murderer ran his finger
along the barrel to steady his aim, and as the barrel is very short, the
bullet grazed the tip of his finger which extended slightly beyond it.
If I find anyone in the hospital with a wounded finger, I've got the
murderer! Gentlemen, I am going to ask the director to issue orders for
everyone within the hospital gates to pass before me. I reckon that in
two hours at most the culprit will no longer be at large."
* * * * *
The attempted murder happened at three o'clock; about six o'clock, those
who had first been examined by Juve had received permission to leave the
hospital and were beginning to depart.
With a careless step Doctor Chaleck made for the exit by which he issued
every evening from Lâriboisière. As he was about to pass out, a police
inspector barred his way.
"Excuse me, sir. Have you a pass?"
"A pass?"
"Yes, sir; no one is allowed to leave to-day without a pass from M.
Juve."
The doctor looked at his watch.
"The deuce," he said. "I'm late as it is. Where am I to get this pass?"
"You must ask M. Juve himself for it. He is in the director's private
room."
"All right, I'll go there." And Doctor Chaleck retraced his steps.
VIII
THE SEARCH FOR THE CRIMINAL
"It's astounding!" declared M. de Maufil. "We have already examined
nearly two hundred persons and found nothing."
"That may be," replied Juve, "but we may discover the culprit by the two
hundred and first hand held out to us."
"There is one thing you forget, M. Juve."
"What is that?"
"If the culprit gets wind of our method of investigation, if he has any
notion that you are inspecting the hands of all those who desire to
leave the hospital, he won't be such a ninny as to come and submit to
your inspection."
Juve nodded approval of the comment.
"You are right; but I have taken means to obviate that difficulty."
Since he had begun his inquiry on the spot, from the very moment when
the revolver shots had rung out, the great detective was growing more
and more sure that the arrest of the mysterious offender would be a
matter of considerable time. The buildings of the establishment were
extensive, and it was easy for a man to move about them without
attracting attention. They offered really strange facilities for hiding.
"Mr. Director," said Juve, "I fancy we have inspected pretty well all
the persons who leave Lâriboisière as a rule, at this time?"
"That is so."
"Then we must now change our plan. Let us leave a nurse here to detain
those who come to ask for passes, and begin a search of the hospital
ourselves. I shall post my officers in line, each man keeping in sight
the one behind and the one before him. At the foot of every staircase I
shall leave a sentry. Then, beginning at the outer wall of the building
we will drive everyone on the ground floor toward the other end. If we
don't round up our man there, we will proceed to the floor above."
"A good idea," replied M. de Maufil. "We shall catch him in a trap."
When Doctor Chaleck found that the inspector watching the exit leading
to the main door in the Rue Ambroise Paré refused him leave to pass out
of the hospital without the sanction of the great detective, he had
perforce to retrace his steps. Skirting the bushes in the courtyard he
took his way toward the medical wards, turning his back on the
directoral offices, where he might have encountered our friend Juve. He
had taken off his white uniform and was dressed in his street clothes.
He halted at the entrance to the long glazed gallery which extends to
the operating rooms of the surgical department. Turning suddenly, he saw
in the distance and coming his way Inspector Juve, accompanied by the
director. He noticed at the same time the cordon of officers preparing
to sweep the hospital from end to end. Mechanically, and as if bent on
putting a certain distance between him and the new-comers, he turned
into the glazed gallery, and reached the far end of it. He was about to
go into the surgical ward when a nurse stopped him.
"Doctor, you can't go in just now; Professor Hugard is operating and has
given express orders that no one is to be admitted."
Chaleck turned up the gallery again, but abruptly swung round again as
he caught sight of Juve and the director just entering the gallery,
driving before them half a dozen patients and orderlies. Chaleck joined
this little group, which had pulled up at the end of the gallery and was
making laughing comments on the rigid inspection to which Juve was just
about to subject them.
"Now's the time to show clean hands," joked a non-resident, "eh, Miss
Victorine?" he added, smiling at a buxom nurse whom the chances of duty
had blockaded in the corridor.
"Depend upon it," growled one of the accountants of the administrative
department, shrugging his shoulders, "they are making a great fuss over
nothing. After all, no one is hurt. Just one more pistol shot; in this
neighbourhood we have ceased to count them."
An old man, who had his hand bandaged, suggested: "Perhaps they'll be
wanting to arrest me since the culprit is wounded in the fingers, they
say."
Dignified and calm, Juve did his best to restore liberty to each of the
persons brought together. They had only to show their two hands held up
in front of the face, the fingers apart. M. de Maufil, at a sign from
Juve, immediately bade the attendant hand the person in question a card
bearing his name and description. Armed with this "Sesame" he could come
and go unimpeded all over the hospital.
Pointing to a large door at the extreme end of the corridor, Juve asked:
"What exit is that?"
The other smiled. "You want to see everything, don't you?"