“I got--got into the cellar through one of the windows; and I
drank--drank through--through a--a straw.”
“You must be sorry you are no longer there?”
“Oh, yes!”
“But, if you were so well off at Valpinson, why did you set it on fire?”
The witnesses of the strange scene crowded to the little window of the
cell, and held their breath with eager expectation.
“I wanted to burn some fagots only, to make the count come out. It was
not my fault, if the whole house got on fire.”
“And why did you want to kill the count?”
“Because I wanted the great lady to marry M. de Boiscoran.”
“Ah! She told you to do it, did she?”
“Oh, no! But she cried so much; and then she told me she would be so
happy if her husband were dead. And she was always good to Cocoleu; and
the count was always bad; and so I shot him.”
“Well! But why, then, did you say it was M. de Boiscoran who shot the
count?”
“They said at first it was me. I did not like that. I would rather they
should cut off his head than mine.”
He shuddered as he said this, so that Goudar, afraid of having gone
rather too fast, took up his violin, and gave him a verse of his song
to quiet him. Then accompanying his words still now and then with a few
notes, and after having allowed Cocoleu to caress his bottle once more,
he asked again,--
“Where did you get a gun?”
“I--I had taken it from the count to shoot birds: and I--I have it
still--still. It is hid in the hole where Michael found me.”
Poor Dr. Seignebos could not stand it any longer. He suddenly pushed
open the door, and, rushing into the court, he cried,--
“Bravo, Goudar! Well done!”
At the noise, Cocoleu had started up. He evidently understood it all;
for terror drove the fumes of the wine out of his mind in an instant,
and he looked frightened to death.
“Ah, you scoundrel!” he howled.
And, throwing himself upon Goudar, he plunged his knife twice into him.
The movement was so rapid and so sudden, that it had been impossible to
prevent it. Pushing M. Folgat violently back as he tried to disarm him,
Cocoleu leaped into a corner of the court, and there, looking like a
wild beast driven to bay, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth foaming, he
threatened with his formidable knife to kill any one who should come
near him.
At the cries of M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin, the assistants in the
hospital came rushing in. The struggle, however, would probably have
been a long one, notwithstanding their numbers, if one of the keepers
had not, with great presence of mind, climbed up to the top of the
wall, and caught the arm of the wretch in a noose. By these means he was
thrown down in a moment, disarmed, and rendered harmless.
“You--you may--may do--do what you--you choose; I--I won’t say--say
another w-w-word!”
In the meantime, poor Dr. Seignebos, who had unwillingly caused the
catastrophe, was distressed beyond measure; still he hastened to the
assistance of Goudar, who lay insensible on the sand of the court. The
two wounds which the detective had received were quite serious, but not
fatal, or even very dangerous, as the knife had been turned aside by
the ribs. He was at once carried into one of the private rooms of the
hospital, and soon recovered his consciousness.
When he saw all four of the gentlemen bending anxiously over his bed, he
murmured with a mournful smile,--
“Well, was I not right when I said that my profession is a rascally
profession?”
“But you are at liberty now to give it up,” replied M. Folgat, “provided
always a certain house in Vine Street should not prove too small for
your ambition.”
The pale face of the detective recovered its color for a moment.
“Will they really give it to me?” he asked.
“Since you have discovered the real criminal, and handed him over to
justice.”
“Well, then, I will bless these wounds: I feel that I shall be up
again in a fortnight. Give me quick pen and ink, that I may write my
resignation immediately, and tell my wife the good news.”
He was interrupted by the entrance of one of the officers of the
court, who, walking up to the commonwealth attorney, said to him
respectfully,--
“Sir, the priest from Brechy is waiting for you at your office.”
“I am coming directly,” replied M. Daubigeon.