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Before he granted it, however, he had conferred with the commonwealth attorney. Excellent M. Daubigeon, whom he found, as usual, admiring the beautiful gilt edging of his beloved books, had treated him badly. "Do you come for any more signatures?" he had exclaimed. "You shall have them. If you want any thing else, your servant.
At every window a head popped out, full of curiosity or terror; on all sides house doors were opened, and promptly closed again. "Great God!" he thought, "I hope I shall find Daubigeon at home!" M. Daubigeon, who had been first in the service of the empire, and then in the service of the republic, was one of M. Seneschal's best friends.
M. Galpin turned to M. Daubigeon. "Then," he said to him, "the murder is the principal fact with which we have to do; and the fire is only an aggravating circumstance, the means which the criminal employed in order to succeed the better in perpetrating his crime." Then, returning to the count, he said, "Pray go on."
All my prospects, all my hopes, are gone. I shall never be forgiven for such an oversight." To look at M. Daubigeon, you would have thought he was sincerely distressed. "Is it really true," he said with an air of assumed pity, "is it really true, what they tell me, that this unlucky mistake was made by you?" "By me? Yes, indeed! I forgot those wretched details which a scholar knows by heart.
The truth is, he was still smarting under the severe reproaches of M. Daubigeon, and he thought he would enjoy his revenge now. He found the old book-worm, as usual, among his beloved books, and in worse humor than ever.
The money he showed us was paid him to bear false witness. How can we credit his story?" "We must investigate the matter," replied M. Daubigeon. He rang the bell; and, when the usher came in, he asked, "Have you done what I told you?" "Yes, sir," replied the man. "M. de Boiscoran and the servant of Count Claudieuse are here." "Bring in the woman: when I ring, show M. de Boiscoran in."
"Poor countess!" murmured one of them. "Here is her husband dead, and they say one of her daughters is dying at home." But M. Daubigeon, the magistrate, and Mechinet were too preoccupied with their own interests to think of stopping for more reliable news. The way was open: they went in, and hastened to the clerk's office, where the gendarmes had taken Trumence, and now were guarding him.
The firemen recognized the mayor, and greeted him with cheers. He went rapidly towards them; and, for the first time since the alarm had been raised, the magistrate and the attorney were alone. They were standing close by each other, and for a moment kept silent, while each one tried to read in the other's eyes the secret of his thoughts. At last M. Daubigeon asked, "Well?" M. Galpin trembled.
"He breathed his last this morning, at two or three minutes before six o'clock. I saw his body in the private room of the attorney-general. The priest from Brechy was there, and two other priests from his parish. They were waiting for a bier to have him carried to his house." "Poor man!" murmured M. Daubigeon.
"It is monstrous," he exclaimed, "to allow an idiot to charge an honorable man with such a crime! If he really saw M. de Boiscoran set the house on fire, and hide himself in order to murder me, why did he not come and warn me?" Mr. Galpin repeated the question submissively, to the great amazement of the mayor and M. Daubigeon. "Why did you not give warning?" he asked Cocoleu.
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