"I know that Sauvresy's body was not cold," said he, "before his
murderers began to threaten each other with death."
"Unhappily for them," observed Dr. Gendron, "Sauvresy had foreseen the
probability of his widow's using up the rest of the vial of poison."
"Ah, he was shrewd," said M. Lecoq, in a tone of conviction, "very
shrewd."
"Bertha could not pardon Hector," continued M. Plantat, "for refusing to
take the revolver and blow his brains out; Sauvresy, you see, had
foreseen that. Bertha thought that if her lover were dead, her husband
would have forgotten all; and it is impossible to tell whether she was
mistaken or not."
"And nobody knew anything of this horrible struggle that was going on in
the house?"
"No one ever suspected anything."
"It's marvellous!"
"Say, Monsieur Lecoq, that is scarcely credible. Never was dissimulation
so crafty, and above all, so wonderfully sustained. If you should
question the first person you met in Orcival, he would tell you, as our
worthy Courtois this morning told Monsieur Domini, that the count and
countess were a model pair and adored each other. Why I, who knew--or
suspected, I should say--what had passed, was deceived myself."
Promptly as M. Plantat had corrected himself, his slip of the tongue did
not escape M. Lecoq.
"Was it really a slip, or not?" he asked himself.
"These wretches have been terribly punished," pursued M. Plantat, "and
it is impossible to pity them; all would have gone rightly if Sauvresy,
intoxicated by his hatred, had not committed a blunder which was almost
a crime."
"A crime!" exclaimed the doctor.