Following the Chef, on her arrival at the office, Miss Kingscott found
Monsieur le Juge de Paix to be an oldish man, with sharp striking
features, his nose having an unfair advantage over the others; and his
skin, tightly drawn over the face, was of that saffron hue which adapts
itself to the complexion of most Frenchmen, and Messieurs les Espagnols
as well, after they have entered their eighth lustrum. He was seated in
his official chamber, surrounded with all the majesty of the law, as
suited his elevated position. A clerk occupied a lower desk in the same
room, and the majestic demeanour of his superior seemed reflected,
although in an inferior degree, on him.
Dechemal and Auguste, the Chefs aides, were both there. So also was the
Mere Cliquelle and her husband, appearing terribly frightened, and
imagining that they were going to be guillotined at the least. A bust
of Napoleon the Third looked down from a niche in the wall, facing the
judge, sternly on all, giving an air of dignity to the whole
proceedings. The judge was taking notes, his clerk following suit; the
_mouchards_ contemplating the impassable physiognomy of the "Man of
Destiny;" the Mere Cliquelle and her small better-half awaiting their
turn for examination in the background. There was no crowd, no troops
of friends and spectators and idlers, such as you would see in a
disorderly English court-room; no, they manage these things very
differently in France. There were only those persons present who were
absolutely necessary for conducting the enquiry; all was silent and
quiet, although the machinery of the law Gallic was in rapid motion.
The wheels of justice run in greased grooves on the other side of the
Channel.
The arrival of the Chef and his important witness, Miss Kingscott,
accelerated movements.
The governess deposed, on oath, as follows:--That on the previous day
she had crossed over from Southampton, Angleterre, to Havre, _par la
vapeur_; her object was to see a certain Monsieur Anglais, by name
Allynne Markworth (the judge had some difficulty in arriving at the
exact etymology of the name, being inclined more than persistently to
call it "Makervorts;" so Miss Kingscott had to spell it succinctly, and
afterwards write it down for the correct information of the clerk).
This gentleman lived, when at Havre, at the house Numero 7, Rue
Montmartre; he had lived there for the last three months, she believed,
with his wife--that is a lady whom he had married in England, after
abducting her from her home; it was not yet settled whether she was
legally his wife or not--there was a law-suit, or _proces civil_, at
present pending in England on the subject. She (Miss Kingscott) knew
this lady--Markworth's wife--very well; she had, indeed, been her
_gouvernante_ at her mother's house for some months; she had reason to
know her, she should think, and would not have any difficulty in
recognising her. Her name was Susan Hartshorne. This Susan Hartshorne
came from the _departement de Sussex, au sud de l'Angleterre_; her
mother was _une veuve_, and a large _proprietaire_; her address was The
Poplars, Sussex, England (direction given by the judge, and note taken
by clerk to forward information to said address); she (Miss Kingscott)
had crossed in the boat, as she had said, yesterday, and arrived at
Havre about mid-day. Perhaps it was before that time, she could not be
certain, and, at all events, it did not matter. (Witness was here
cautioned by the judge not to make any irrelevant observations. Nothing
was too insignificant to be taken note of; the eye of justice was wide,
and comprehended everything in its vision.) Markworth probably came
over in the same boat with her.
"Did Mademoiselle see _ce Monsieur la_ on board?"
"Yes, Mademoiselle did see him on board; it was at night, and dark; but
she saw him come on the boat at Southampton, and she saw him leave it
yesterday when they arrived at Havre; she had been watching him."
"Did Mademoiselle accompany Monsieur?"
"No, certainly not; she had not spoken to him all the time they were on
board; she did not think that he knew she was there."
"It is very strange. I thought Mademoiselle came over especially to see
this Monsieur Markworth? _Mon Dieu_! Here she was on board with him
all the time on the boat, and she had not spoken to him! She did not
think even that this monsieur knew she was there! It was very strange!"
"Yes, it might be strange; but she had her own reasons for acting as she
did. She did not wish this Markworth to know that she was there, or to
meet him until after he had landed and gone home; she had her reasons."
"Mademoiselle then had _Monsieur_ under surveillance?"
"Well, they might call it spying if they liked. She had watched this
Markworth enter the house already pointed out in the Rue Montmartre.
She had then herself gone to the Hotel du Cote d'Or, and secured an
_appartement_. After this she had returned to the Rue Montmartre, and
asked at the house of the Mere Cliquelle to see M. Markworth. She had
been refused admittance, although she knew he was _chez lui_. In
carrying out her purpose of watching his movements, she had gone over to
a cafe on the opposite side of the street, from the upper room of which
she was able to observe the house at _Numero Sept_. She watched there
until late in the afternoon--evening it was, for it was after seven--
nearly eight o'clock she thought. At that time she then saw Markworth
come out of the house along with his wife--the girl Susan Hartshorne, to
whom she had before referred."
"Can you swear it was her?"
"_Je le jure_" responded Miss Kingscott, and then went on with her
deposition. She went out from her place of observation quickly after
them. They went in the direction of Ingouville, up the heights;
Markworth walking by the side of his wife, or reputed wife, and she,
Miss Kingscott some little distance behind them. She did not speak to
them, and did not think that they knew of her propinquity. She let them
get on some distance ahead of her, although she still followed and kept
them in sight. When they got on the heights they stopped walking, and
she hid herself behind a projecting wall. She feared some mischief, and
watched to see what Markworth was going to do. Presently she heard his
voice raised as if in anger, and then the voice of the girl Susan as if
in supplication. She then heard a scream from the unfortunate girl.
She, Miss Kingscott, rushed forward to help her. She was too late.
_Helas_! She saw this Markworth, this villain, throw the girl over the
precipice.
"You saw him throw her over?"
"Yes, I swear it. I then tried to stop the murderer, but he escaped
from my hands, knocked me senseless with a blow--here is the cut on my
forehead now--and he got off, heaven only knows where. I had cried, `_a
voleur_' and `_assassinat_' as loud as I could before I became
insensible, but no one came to my help. When I recovered my
consciousness I walked feebly down the path, and meeting a _sergent de
ville_, told him all about the murder, but he arrested me, thinking, he
says, I was drunk, and I was locked up in a cell till this evening, when
the Chef released me, apologising for the mistake of his subordinate. I
have only to add," observed Miss Kingscott, after she had finished
answering the questions put to her, "that had it not been for this
mistake on the part of your boasted _sergents de ville_, which could
only have arisen from sheer stupidity, the murderer might never have got
off."
"_C'est possible_!" said the judge, making a note against the name of
the unfortunate guardian of the peace who had arrested the governess.
"But Mademoiselle will recollect that according to her statement it was
several hours after the escape of her assailant that she was thus
_arretee_. Call the next witnesses!"
And the interrogatory went on.
The Mere Cliquelle and her husband, "_son petit bon homme_," as she
called him, were then examined to the same purport as already detailed
by the Chef to Miss Kingscott, Dechemal corroborating what had been
previously told him, and certifying to their arrest by him, and
importation before the Juge de Paix.
Auguste, the other of the Chefs inquisitors, had little to tell. He had
searched the _cabarets_ and hotels, and enquired at the office of the
Steamboat Company, and along the quays. No Englishman, or any one else
resembling Markworth's description had been seen or heard of since
yesterday evening, or had taken passage for England.
This was all the evidence that could be obtained, and on it Monsieur le
Juge de Paix framed the _acte d'accusation_, by which the charge of
wilful murder was established against Markworth, and a warrant issued
for his arrest.
The police, therefore, acting under the orders of the Chef, were on the
alert.
Directions were also given to the fishermen and sailors about the quays
to look out for a body in the river: the Seine was then dragged with
better effect, for the very next day the surmises of the Judge and the
Chef were set at rest.
The body of a fair woman, with light brown hair and about twenty-one or
twenty-two years of age, was discovered floating beneath the battlements
of the centre quay. The features were nearly indistinguishable from the
action of the water or the attacks of crustacea, but the remains of a
crimson merino dress still clung around the body, which Miss Kingscott
immediately recognised and identified as that of Susan Hartshorne. The
Mere Cliquelle and her husband were also certain that the remains were
those of the poor English lady, although neither were positive about the
dress. Madame Cliquelle said that she had never observed any particular
colour in the dress of Madame (Miss Kingscott had testified in her
deposition that Susan Hartshorne always wore robes of bright hue,
different, as a rule, from anyone else), but she might have worn this
particular dress and gone out in it that evening without her having
noticed it. _Helas_! however, what need had they to be particular about
a worthless dress when they had the body of the poor Madame before them!
The Mere Cliquelle wept over the lifeless shell of humanity; and even
her little husband shed tears as he recounted how he and _la pauvre
belle ange Anglaise_ used to "spik Inglese togeders."
The afternoon of the same day, too, a fisherman from Honfleur
communicated with the police, and gave evidence that about ten o'clock
on the night of the murder he had conveyed an Englishman, answering in
every respect to the description of Markworth, across from Havre to his
own village: he had been out to sea and along the coast since then, and
had consequently not heard of the inquiry before.
There was no doubt of this being Markworth, as the fisherman described
him to a hair with two or three telling word-strokes. The landlord of
the Auberge, also, where he had stopped at Honfleur, produced a torn
envelope which had been carelessly dropped by his guest. It was
addressed "Allynne Markworth, Esqr.;" that settled the question.
Two clear days, however, had passed; and although the object of their
search was traced to Paris, all further clue of his track was lost, and
where he had gone remained an unsolved problem.
The French police, with all their acuteness and _finesse_, in the
exercise of which they are far ahead of our blundering English
detectives (and those vile, social-inquisitorial dens of humbug and
area-sneakishness called "Private Inquiry Offices," too) were at fault,
and the game had to be given up. From some papers found amongst the
things he had left behind him at the Rue Montmartre, it was surmised
that Markworth had gone to America; a photograph of himself was also
discovered, which he had had taken with one of his wife--it may be
remembered that Markworth had shown a carte de visite of Susan to Mr
Trump, when he had gone to the lawyers to tell of his marriage, and
claim the reward for the missing girl. These photographs were carefully
preserved by the police, and copies of Markworth's likeness despatched
to various points to secure his arrest in case he put foot on French
ground.
Nothing more could be done, however, by the Juge de Paix or the Chef.
The machinery of justice had been set in motion; and although its wheels
were greased it had to stop working; its _but_ was non-apparent.
The depositions and evidence of the witnesses, who were now released
from surveillance, were preserved until the occasion should arise for
their utility.
Miss Kingscott was a potent pursuer, but the prey had escaped her again:
she had still to wait for vengeance.
In the meantime the body of the girl was kept for burial until word
should be received from England,
The chief of the police had communicated with the mother of Markworth's
victim, having written to the _veuve_ Hartshorne, according to the
address given by Miss Kingscott; the latter personage had also sent her
version of the affair to the widow lady's lawyers, and both were now
awaiting response.
Volume 3, Chapter VI.