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"While we are about it, look in the bottom of the closet, and see if you find the right number of empty bottles." The valet obeyed, and looked into the closet. "There isn't one there." "Just so," returned M. Lecoq. "This time, show us your heels for good." As soon as Francois had shut the door, M. Lecoq turned to Plantat and asked: "What do you think now?" "You were perfectly right."
According to the mayor's account, the instrument with which all these things were broken has been found." "In the room in the second story," answered M. Plantat, "overlooking the garden, we found a hatchet on the floor, near a piece of furniture which had been assailed, but not broken open; I forbade anyone to touch it." "And you did well. Is it a heavy hatchet?" "It weighs about two pounds."
Ah, I told Hector that the letter he dictated to me would not be believed. There are misfortunes for which death is the only refuge." M. Plantat was about to reply, but Lecoq was determined to take the lead in the interview. "It is not you, Madame, that we seek," said he, "but Monsieur de Tremorel." "Hector! And why, if you please? Is he not free?"
"No, sir: she went away a week ago, to pass a month with one of her aunts." "And how is madame?" "Better, sir; only she cries piteously." The unfortunate mayor had now somewhat recovered his presence of mind. He seized Baptiste by the arm. "Come along," cried he, "come along!" They hastened off. "Poor man!" said the judge of instruction. "Perhaps his daughter is dead." M. Plantat shook his head.
I was invited myself " "Great God!" interrupted M. Courtois, "then the count and countess remained alone last night?" "Entirely alone, Monsieur Mayor." "It is horrible!" M. Plantat seemed to grow impatient during this dialogue. "Come," said he, "we cannot stay forever at the gate. The gendarmes do not come; let us send for the locksmith."
Instead of taking the high road, they cut across a pathway which ran along beside Mme. de Lanascol's park, and led diagonally to the wire bridge; this was the shortest way to the inn where M. Lecoq had left his slight baggage. As they went along, M. Plantat grew anxious about his good friend, M. Courtois. "What misfortune can have happened to him?" said he to Dr. Gendron.
When he saw my men, he was undeceived. Just then one of the women cried out, 'Brigand, it was you who have this night assassinated the count and the countess! He immediately became paler than death, and remained motionless and dumb. Then he began to struggle so violently that he nearly escaped. Ah! he's strong, the rogue, although he does not look like it." "And he said nothing?" said Plantat.
Luckily, he borrowed from the idea of his official importance, an energy foreign to his character. The more difficult the preliminary examination of this affair seemed, the more determined he was to carry it on with dignity. "Conduct us to the place where you saw the body," said he to Bertaud. But Papa Plantat intervened.
But M. Plantat speedily resumed his habitual expression. "'Tis nothing," he answered, "really nothing. With my abominable stomach, as soon as I change my hour of eating " Having reached his peroration, M. Courtois raised his voice. "Return," said he, "to your peaceable homes, your quiet avocations. Rest assured the law protects you.
"Now," responded the detective, "with the certainty that something besides booty might have been the object of the search, I am not far from thinking that the guilty man is he whose body is being searched for the Count Hector de Tremorel." M. Plantat and Dr. Gendron had divined the name; but neither had as yet dared to utter his suspicions.
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