Every April the horse-show, held annually at the Palais de l'Industrie
in the Champs Elysées, is one of the favourite resorts of Parisian
society; and on the day when the chargers parade, ridden by lieutenants
and sub-lieutenants, quite prepared to break their necks in order to
attract the attention of the ladies, a large crowd is invariably
present. The attractive gathering took place that year a fortnight after
Dargental's tragical demise. Both George Caumont and Adhémar de Puymirol
were there, having met each other by appointment at the door. Since
their friend's death they had not seen nearly so much of each other as
usual. They still lived in the same house, and upon the same floor, but
in the morning, instead of going out together as formerly, each of them
went his own way, for George had refused to help Adhémar in discovering
the murderer, and spent his time in a manner more congenial to his
tastes. The fact that Dargental had not committed suicide was now
established, but, otherwise, no progress had been made with the
investigation. The valet was still in prison, but stoutly protested his
innocence, and there was really no evidence against him. Puymirol, who
might have furnished a clue as to the truth, remained obstinately
silent. Upon being questioned by the magistrate, on the day following
the crime, he had contented himself with relating the incidents of the
lunch. George Caumont had been equally reticent, and so had Balmer and
Blanche Pornic, who were also questioned; and as the valet persisted in
his denials, it would be necessary to set him at liberty sooner or
later.
Puymirol's attempts to obtain an interview with the countess had proved
utterly fruitless. Madame de Lescombat received no one, and this was
only natural, after the tragical event which had bereft her of her
betrothed. A letter which Puymirol had written to her, requesting a
private interview, had remained unanswered, and our amateur detective,
greatly vexed, was, therefore, reduced to waiting for an opportunity
which might never present itself. On trying to console himself by
card-playing, he met with a terrible run of ill luck; and finding
himself most embarrassed, it is no wonder if he felt dreadfully out of
sorts as he strolled that day on Caumont's arm through the crowd inside
the Palais de l'Industrie. George, on his side, seemed to be eyeing the
occupants of the benches as if in search of some acquaintance. Indeed,
he suddenly let go of his friend's arm, and Puymirol exclaimed: "Ah!
there's your sweetheart--Well, go and see her. We will meet here during
the intermission that follows the hurdle race."
"I can not promise to be punctual," replied Caumont, evidently anxious
to start off.
In another moment he could be seen cautiously making his way towards a
remarkably charming girl, who sat with her friends in one of the
tribunes: but he seemed to be in no hurry to reach her, for he often
paused as he approached the staircase, which he would have to ascend. He
was not far from it when the young lady recognised him and smiled. He
thereupon eagerly bowed, blushing a little as he did so, and then,
quickening his pace, he began to elbow his way through the crowd--no
easy task. Just then, however, he found himself, to his surprise, face
to face with Blanche Pornic. The meeting was very disagreeable to
George, who knew that the eyes of the girl he admired were upon him, so
he endeavoured to turn a little aside and thus avoid Blanche, but she
resolutely barred his way. "I see that you are not particularly glad to
meet me," she remarked, laughing, "but I shall inflict my society upon
you to punish you for failing to call on me as you promised."
"I did very wrong, I admit," replied George, "and I will atone for my
fault to-morrow; but you will excuse me for leaving you now, as I must
join a friend who is waiting for me."
"He will have to wait then, for you can't go any further as another
trial is about to take place. Don't you hear the bell?" Blanche spoke
the truth. The promenaders, warned by the signal, had paused, and any
further progress was impossible. "I have you," she continued, "and I
sha'n't let you go, for I want to have a long talk with you about
Dargental's death."
George resolved to make the best of the situation, so he replied: "Well,
as you insist upon broaching that sad subject, it is said that Dargental
did not commit suicide as was at first supposed."
"No doubt," replied Blanche. "Suicide was far from his thoughts. He was
murdered, my dear fellow, and I believe I know the culprit."
George had not expected to hear the person whom Puymirol suspected of
the crime make such a statement as this. "You know the culprit and yet
you have not denounced him," said he.
"Oh! I make it a principle never to meddle with matters that don't
concern me."
"But this does concern you. You knew Dargental so well."
"No doubt; and he has died for having deserted me."
"I don't understand you."
"Oh! that doesn't matter. Had I cared to tell what I know, I should have
done so to the magistrate who questioned me; and I deserve some credit
for holding my tongue, for he insinuated that suspicion might fall upon
me. But I have nothing to fear, and I am going to stand my ground. Have
you seen the Countess de Lescombat?" added Blanche, abruptly, "I suppose
you know she is here."
"Here, a fortnight after Dargental's death? It's impossible!"
"She is enthroned up there in the stewards' stand, and Dargental's death
has not affected her in the least."
"It is certainly scandalous," replied George.
"Oh! she imagines that by showing herself here, she will make people
believe that Dargental was indifferent to her."
"But all Paris knew of the connection, and she was about to legalise it
by marriage."
"We knew it, but the banns had not been published, and Madame de
Lescombat will now declare that Pierre was a friend, and nothing more.
And people will end by believing that such was really the case, unless
some of her letters should be found among the poor fellow's papers. But
she is too shrewd to write. It is all very well for me who have nothing
to lose to be prodigal with my signature. If Dargental has not burned my
letters, an interesting collection will be found."
"Dargental probably destroyed them; still, it isn't likely that they
contained anything that would compromise you," said George, scrutinizing
Blanche's countenance.
"Well," replied Blanche, quite composed, "I never concealed my fondness
for Pierre, and I did for him what I would never have done for any other
living being. But when I learned to know him well, I deeply regretted
writing him a certain note, which might cause me a deal of trouble,
should it fall into the hands of the authorities. Dargental was quite
capable of keeping this note. I begged of him to return it to me before
his marriage, and if I accepted his invitation at the Lion d'Or, it was
because I hoped he would return it to me at dessert."
"But in what way could this note compromise you?" inquired George,
trying to smile. "I presume that it didn't contain a confession of any
crime on your part."
"You know nothing about women," replied Blanche. "The very best of them
are fools when their affections are involved, and I was madly in love
with Dargental. To save him from any danger, I would have stolen or
committed murder, but I did not go to such lengths as that; still I did
him a service that might have cost me dear. I tell you this, because I
know I can trust you; but, pray, say nothing to your friend Puymirol
about the matter, for I have no confidence in him. He sides with the
countess, and I am almost certain that he just left you to go and pay
his respects to her. But what do you think of the show this year?"
"It is about the same as usual, I fancy."
"You wonder why I came, probably. Well, I came here to see the officers.
Like all the rest of my sex, I am fond of uniforms. There is one officer
here whom I have taken a special fancy to. Shall I point him out to
you?"
"Certainly," replied George, although he was not at all interested in
the matter.
"Step here a moment, then," said Blanche. A hurdle trial was now taking
place, and as the different competitors passed by, she indulged in
lively criticism. "There he is, at last," she continued, pointing to a
young sub-lieutenant and then clapping her hands like a child, she
added: "Isn't he handsome?"
George looked at the rider, who had excited her admiration, and beheld a
tall, well-built young man, with a handsome and genial face, mounted
upon a half-bred horse, which he managed with wonderful skill and ease.
"Do you know who he is?" Caumont asked of Blanche.
"No; but I should very much like to know. If he does not receive the
first prize, the judges will be guilty of the grossest injustice. Did
you notice him bow to these ladies over there, that young girl in a lace
bonnet, with an older lady, who must have been very handsome, and who
still has some good looks left her?" George glanced in the direction
indicated, and, on recognising the ladies, blushed so deeply that
Blanche resumed: "So they are friends of yours? You need not blush like
a schoolboy, for they are both charming, the girl especially, and I am
delighted that you know them; for now you can introduce the lieutenant
to me."
"You had better not count upon that," retorted George, drily.
"Oh! you need not take offence, I meant no harm. You seem to be deeply
interested in one of the two ladies; and I should never forgive myself
if I prevented you from following the dictates of your heart any longer.
So go, and good luck to you!"
George now thought of reaching the tribune to join the ladies who
interested him far more than Blanche Pornic's revelations. The trial was
over, the judges had retired for deliberation, and Caumont was about to
climb the stairs when he perceived the people he wished to join coming
down towards him. The daughter was in front, and she smiled as he stood,
with uncovered head, eagerly awaiting her approach. He had been
introduced to herself and her mother by an old schoolmate of his, now a
civil engineer, who had informed him that Madame Verdon was the widow of
an iron manufacturer who had left a fortune of twelve hundred thousand
francs, which would revert, partly to his son and partly to his
daughter, Gabrielle, the young girl who was now descending the stairs.
George had often met her and her mother in the Luxembourg gardens and
had visited them at their residence on the Boulevard St. Michel, very
near his own abode. He had gradually fallen in love with Mademoiselle
Verdon, but being well aware of the objections that might be made to him
as a suitor for the hand of a young lady blessed with an income of
twenty thousand francs, he had carefully abstained from playing the part
of a lover. Still, he had eyes, and he saw very plainly that the
daughter liked him, and that the mother did not seem to discourage his
pretensions. He even fancied that Madame Verdon had been unusually
cordial of late, and he wondered if the time had not come for him to
make some advances. He wished, however, first to have an explanation
with the young girl, and then if he met with any encouragement from her,
to ask her hand of her mother. But a favourable opportunity had not yet
presented itself. Indeed, Dargental's death, and the judicial
proceedings following upon that tragical event, had, for some days,
engrossed George's attention to such an extent that he had scarcely seen
the Verdons. "Good-morning," exclaimed the mother, as she now
approached. "We haven't seen you for a long time past. What have you
been doing with yourself? Gabrielle has lost all fondness for the
Luxembourg garden since you have ceased visiting it."
"Yes, monsieur," chimed in the young girl, "it is very unkind of you to
desert us, and your conduct is inexcusable, for it cannot be your law
studies that engross you, as you spend your time here."
"It is the first time I have been here this year, mademoiselle."
"Oh! I am not scolding you. It is much more amusing here than in our
quiet neighbourhood, especially for you who are probably acquainted with
all these people. I, myself, have eyes only for my brother."
"Your brother, mademoiselle?"
"Yes," replied Madame Verdon, "my son, Albert, has just taken part in
one of the trials, and as I am confident that he will receive the first
prize, I came here expressly to enjoy his triumph. You must allow me to
introduce him to you when the awards have been made. He has a three
months' leave, which he will spend with us."
"I thought your son was still at Saint Cyr," stammered George.
"He has been promoted to sub-lieutenancy in the Seventh Cuirassiers.
This promotion makes me feel very old, I assure you; and I must confess
that I am rather averse to admitting that I have a son who is twenty-six
years of age."
"You will see how handsome my big brother is," interrupted Gabrielle.
"All the ladies applauded him enthusiastically when he jumped the last
hurdle. The one who was talking with you must have split her gloves in
her fervour."
George said nothing, but he blushed to his very ears. He had flattered
himself that Gabrielle Verdon had not noticed his long conversation
with Blanche Pornic, but he could no longer delude himself on the point.
"Doesn't your father ever come to Paris, now?" inquired Madame Verdon.
"He must be very fond of horses?"
"My father is getting too old to travel about much," replied George,
somewhat astonished by this remark.
"I understand. When a person has charge of a large estate, it is
difficult for him to absent himself. An estate is like an iron foundry:
it needs constant attention. I know something about that, for I spent
ten years in the valley of the Vosges. My husband only took me to Paris
once a year. You scarcely remember that time, child. Monsieur Jacques
has not forgotten it, however." These concluding words were evidently
addressed to a gentleman whom George had not before noticed, but whom
Madame Verdon now disclosed to view by stepping a little aside. This
person was tall, broad shouldered, and stoutly built. His rather coarse
features gave him a stern air, and he was wanting in elegance of manner,
although he was very neatly dressed. "Let me introduce Monsieur Jacques
Rochas, my husband's former partner, and his successor," resumed Madame
Verdon. "He has just sold the iron works he purchased from us, and has
come to reside in Paris. You will meet him frequently at our house."
George bowed coldly, and the stranger returned the salute in a somewhat
bearish fashion. Both gentlemen seemed ill at ease, and Madame Verdon
herself appeared rather uncomfortable. "Here are the victors now," cried
Gabrielle. "Albert leads the procession. Let us get a little nearer to
see the party form. Use your elbows, Monsieur George, and make room for
us through the crowd." And without troubling herself as to whether her
mother was following her or not, she turned to the left, followed by
George, who asked no better than to have a private interview with the
young girl.
"Madame Verdon will think I am running away with you," he said,
jestingly.
"We shall be able to find her again presently, without any trouble,"
replied Gabrielle. "She doesn't worry herself much about me just now.
Here is a good place for a quiet talk, and I wish to speak to you upon a
serious subject."
"I am entirely at your service, mademoiselle," replied George, who was
greatly astonished.
The musicians now struck up a triumphal march, and, amid the din,
Gabrielle resumed: "I warn you that I am going to ask you a very strange
and improper question. You have been paying me considerable attention of
late. Do you love me?"
This question was indeed unexpected--the more so as well-bred young
ladies habitually wait for it to be put to them. Mademoiselle Verdon was
certainly reversing the usual order of things; but George promptly
answered: "Love you, mademoiselle! yes, with my whole heart. I have not
yet dared to tell you so, but--"
"No protestations. I believe you, and I am going to enable you to prove
the truth of your words. Do you wish to marry me?"
"Such is my most ardent desire. If I could hope that your mother would
grant me your hand--"
"She will, if you ask her for it now; that is to say, within a few days.
Later on, she will, perhaps, refuse you." George could not understand
the meaning of all this, as his bewildered mien showed plainly enough.
"The situation is simply this," continued Gabrielle: "My mother wishes
to marry again. This news may surprise you, but it is true,
nevertheless. She wishes to marry again, to enter society. Her children
are in her way, and she does not at all care to keep them with her. My
brother does not so much preoccupy her. An officer goes about from
garrison to garrison when he is not in the field, so she will seldom see
Albert; but as I cannot leave her as long as I remain single, she is in
a hurry to get me married off. She is looking for a husband for me, and
if you do not speak out she will content herself with the first comer."
"Oh! she will easily secure a much more eligible suitor than myself, for
I have neither money nor prospects."
"I have money enough for two, and your future depends upon your
intelligence and industry. My mother knows this perfectly well; she also
knows that I like you. Moreover, she has made inquiries respecting you.
She has received information that your family is highly respectable, and
that your father will leave you his estate and some capital. She is in a
hurry to settle the matter, for you see it would not do for both the
mother and the daughter to marry within a few days of each other. She
dreads ridicule, and she is quite right, for all our acquaintances would
laugh at her. But if I now became your wife, she would trouble herself
no further about me. She would leave Paris, and, after travelling
awhile, she would be married in Switzerland or Italy. She told me
yesterday that she wished to leave next month, and that she did not want
to take me with her. The only refuge left for me would be a convent, for
I cannot follow Albert's regiment about, and he is my only relative."
George was so overwhelmed by these disclosures, that he did not know
what to reply, and Gabrielle concluded that he did not care for her. "I
see that you are shocked to hear me talk in this way," she said, sadly.
"I know I do wrong in censuring my mother's conduct in your presence,
and throwing myself in your arms, as it were. But I never could disguise
my feelings, and I always speak straight to the point. I thought you
loved me well enough to do me justice. If I am mistaken I must bear the
penalty of my imprudence; but you at least cannot accuse me of
dissimulation."
"On the contrary, I sincerely thank you, mademoiselle, for divining the
feelings which I dared not express, and I entreat you not to take my
silence as a sign of coldness or hesitation. My delight overcame me. I
was so little prepared for the happiness you have announced to me."
"It is not my fault if I did not explain the situation sooner. I have
not seen you for several days. But, now, will you authorise me to inform
my mother that you intend to ask for my hand in marriage--at an early
date?"
"To-morrow, if I have your consent, mademoiselle."
"Thank you," replied the girl, earnestly. "I can never do enough to
prove to you my love and gratitude. My brother will be as pleased as I
am when I introduce you to him by-and-by. They are very slow in forming
the procession, it seems to me," continued Gabrielle. "They have no
right to keep a sister waiting so long for her brother's triumphal
entry."
"Nor a mother who is longing to applaud her son," added George, in a
somewhat questioning tone.
"Mamma? Oh, yes, she is fond of Albert, but she will wait quite
contentedly, as her intended husband is with her."
"Her intended husband?"
"Ah! I forgot to tell you that she expects to marry the person she just
introduced to you, Monsieur Jacques Rochas."
"Your father's former partner?"
"That is the title my mother gives him. The truth is, he was formerly a
foreman at the iron works. He subsequently became superintendent, and,
after my father's death, he leased the works. He made a good deal of
money, and finally purchased the place from us. It seems that he has
just disposed of it very advantageously, and is now much richer than we
are."
"But it cannot be for the sake of his money that your mother wishes to
marry him?"
"No, though my father only left her one fourth of his property. She
likes Monsieur Rochas, but, for myself, I cannot imagine what attraction
she can possibly find in a man who has a very limited education, and
whom she formerly regarded as an inferior. He looks very like a farrier,
and he is stern and gloomy, as well as taciturn."
"I noticed that he did not greet me very cordially just now. I am
inclined to think that he will not approve of our marriage."
"You are very much mistaken there. He suspects that I don't like him,
and he is anxious to separate me from my mother. It matters very little
to him whom I marry, providing I cease to live with her. He wishes to be
absolute master in his own house, and probably thinks that I might rebel
against his authority."
"But what does your brother say to Madame Verdon's plans?"
"Oh! I am sure that he will be furious when she announces her intended
marriage to him. He will certainly try to dissuade her, but he won't
succeed, for she has engaged herself to this man, and she is really
afraid of him. But there is my brother Albert passing now." And so
saying, Gabrielle raised herself on tiptoe, and with her gloved hand
began to shower kisses upon the young officer, who seemed blind to this
exhibition of sisterly affection. In fact, he appeared to be gazing with
extraordinary persistence at somebody whom George could not see. Just
then, too, the young lieutenant dexterously caught a little bunch of
violets that was sent flying at him through the air; he smiled at the
sender of this fragrant missile, and then, giving his horse the rein,
galloped off without even seeming to suspect that his mother and sister
were present. "Didn't I tell you that he was turning all the women's
heads?" whispered Gabrielle to George. "He is so handsome! But I should
like to get a look at his latest victim."
This wish was promptly gratified, for, just then, the crowd divided to
allow Blanche Pornic to pass. She had a triumphant air, and the smile
with which she had just favoured the young lieutenant was still upon her
lips. "Why, it is the same person whom you were talking with when we
came down the steps," remarked Gabrielle. "I am afraid she has bewitched
my brother. Did you notice that he kept the bouquet of violets she flung
at him? But here is my mother coming with Monsieur Rochas. If she were
alone, I should beg of you to remain with us; but this gentleman's
presence would not prove congenial to you, so take leave of my mother,
and meet us in the Luxembourg garden to-morrow. We shall be there at
four o'clock."
George took his leave as Gabrielle suggested and was about to turn away,
when a hand was placed on his shoulder, and on looking round, he found
himself face to face with Charles Balmer. "I have found you at last!"
exclaimed the latter. "I have some news for you about Dargental's case.
Poor Pierre's valet has spoken at last."
"How do you know?" inquired George.
"Why, I am intimate with the magistrate to whom the investigation of the
case is entrusted, and he tells me that Jean now remembers, that at
about nine o'clock on the morning of the murder, a rather
suspicious-looking man rang at the door. Jean answered the bell, and
this man, who seemed greatly annoyed on seeing him, asked for some
person whom Jean had never heard of. He then said that he must have made
a mistake in the number of the house, and went off without insisting any
further. Ten minutes later, Dargental, having completed his toilet, sent
Jean to Madame de Lescombat's with a letter, and Jean, as he left the
house, saw the same man standing in a doorway on the opposite side of
the street. He thought very little about it at the time, but started off
on his errand. The countess resides at some distance from Dargental's
house; besides, our friend had given Jean several other commissions,
which explains why he failed to return until you and Puymirol reached
the scene of the catastrophe. The fact is, that strange man must have
seen Jean leave the house, and then, realising that our unfortunate
friend was alone, he went upstairs again, whereupon Dargental himself
must have opened the door."
"No doubt; but to what motive does the magistrate ascribe the crime?"
"To robbery, as Dargental's pocket-book is missing."
"But are you sure that this pocket-book contained any money?"
"One cannot be sure, of course, but it seems more than probable.
Dargental was in the habit of carrying all the money he possessed about
him, and Jean declares that his master, on going to bed at night, always
placed his pocket-book under the bolster. Besides, all the drawers have
been carefully examined, and not a penny has been found in the place."
"And no article of furniture was forced open by the murderer?"
"None, whatever. He evidently knew exactly where to look for what he
wanted. Besides, he was probably anxious to get away as soon as
possible, as some one might have come in at any moment. It seems that
the only clue the authorities possess consists of a memorandum in
Dargental's handwriting which was found in the ante-room. The murderer
must have dropped it on opening the pocket-book, for the imprint of his
bloody fingers is visible on one corner of it."
"And what is this memorandum?"
"Robergeot would not tell me--Robergeot is the magistrate. He has great
confidence in me, as he has known me from my infancy; but he has a very
keen sense of professional duty, so that all I have been able to learn
is that the note in question may prove of great use in discovering the
criminal. I certainly hope the brigand will be apprehended, for if the
murder of my friend Dargental should go unpunished, I believe I shall
really die a year before my time, and that would upset all my
calculations, for I still have money enough left to last me thirty
months longer."
"Ah, yes, I forgot that you were a chronic consumptive," said George
ironically. "Poor fellow! However, if this is all you have to tell me--"
"Yes, for the time being; but I shall see Robergeot again, and I will
keep you well informed, though you don't seem to take much interest in
the affair. You are not like Puymirol. He knows that I am acquainted
with the magistrate, and he asks me every day how the investigation is
progressing. But speaking of Puymirol, are you aware that he lost five
hundred louis more at cards last night?"
"No, I just left him, but he said nothing to me about it," murmured
George, surprised and still more annoyed at this news. "Perhaps he has
not gone off yet. I am going to wait for him at the door."
"That means, you have had enough of my company, so I will leave you."
George was now anxious to see Puymirol, for he felt that his friend had
no right to keep a pocket-book and letters which might put the
authorities on the right scent, for he did not believe that the robbery
of any money had had anything to do with the crime. Moreover, he wished
to ask Adhémar how he was situated financially, and ascertain if this
last loss of ten thousand francs would not prove an irreparable
misfortune as he greatly feared. He therefore hurried to the grand
entrance where there was a dense crowd, at sight of which he almost
despaired of finding Puymirol. However, luck favoured him, but, first,
he saw Blanche Pornic pass out, accompanied by a young officer who was
none other than Albert Verdon. She did not stop to speak to George, but
she gave him a mocking smile as she passed by. She had succeeded in her
purpose; the young lieutenant to whom she had taken such a fancy, had
evidently been impressed by her charms. George had not time to think
over the matter, for just then, Puymirol, coming upon him unexpectedly,
caught hold of his arm, and dragged him off, exclaiming: "I want you to
do me a favour."
"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, but I have not got the amount
you lost at the club last night," replied George.
"That isn't the question. I have at last succeeded in securing a few
moments' conversation with the countess, and I am now going to see her
at her house, where we shall probably have a decisive interview. Her
letter is a weapon which I have resolved to use, but I don't want to
have it about me during my first visit, so do me the favour to keep the
pocket-book for me until to-morrow."
"Dargental's pocket-book! Not if I know it!"
"So you are afraid of compromising yourself. Very well, merely take the
letters, then." And Puymirol, as he spoke, drew all three of them out of
the compartment in which they had been placed, and, after thrusting them
into George Caumont's hand, hastened rapidly away.