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But at M. Plantat's approach, the women fled like a troop of frightened gulls. The old man's unexpected appearance annoyed the placid Baptiste not a little, for he was interrupted, by the sudden departure of his audience, in the midst of a superb oratorical flight. As he had a great fear of M. Plantat, however, he dissimulated his chagrin with his habitual smile.
His second thought is of this letter or paper, this object of small size which he knows to be in his wife's keeping, which he has demanded a hundred times, which she would not give up to him, and which he must have." "Add," interrupted M. Plantat, "that this paper was one of the motives of the crime." "The count thinks he knows where it is. He imagines that he can put his hand on it at once.
So M. Plantat, without more ado, to the great scandal of the mayor, who was thus put into the background, proceeded to dilate upon the main features of the count's and countess's biography. "The Countess de Tremorel, nee Bertha Lechaillu, was the daughter of a poor village school-master.
But the murderers had not followed the paths. Making a short cut, they had gone straight across the lawn. Their traces were perfectly visible. The grass was trampled and stamped down as if a heavy load had been dragged over it. In the midst of the lawn they perceived something red; M. Plantat went and picked it up. It was a slipper, which the valet de chambre recognized as the count's.
M. Lecoq was right when he said that a capital dinner was to be had in the Passage du Havre; unfortunately M. Plantat was not in a state to appreciate it. As in the morning, he found it difficult to swallow anything, he was so anxious and depressed. He longed to know the detective's plans; but M. Lecoq remained impenetrable, answering all inquiries with: "Let me act, and trust me."
They were about to resume talking when a step was heard on the staircase; and presently Dr. Gendron appeared. "Courtois is better," said he, "he is in a doze, and will recover." "We have nothing more, then, to keep us here," returned M. Plantat. "Let's be off. Monsieur Lecoq must be half dead with hunger." As they went away, M. Lecoq slipped Laurence's letter, with the envelope, into his pocket.
"But see here," said M. Plantat, "it was the odd hour marked by that clock that struck me. The hands point to twenty minutes past three; yet we know that the countess was fully dressed, when she was struck. Was she up taking tea at three in the morning? It's hardly probable." "I, too, was struck with that circumstance," returned M. Lecoq, "and that's why I said, 'not so stupid! Well, let's see."
The mayor suggested that he had been thrown into the river, which was also M. Domini's opinion; and some fishermen were sent to drag the Seine, commencing their search a little above the place where the countess was found. It was then nearly three o'clock. M. Plantat remarked that probably no one had eaten anything during the day.
What has become of you, so young and happy?" He rose, shaking with anguish and cried: "Let us go, Plantat, and look for her at the Morgue." Then he fell back again, muttering the lugubrious word, "the Morgue." The witnesses of this scene remained, mute, motionless, rigid, holding their breath. The stifled sobs and groans of Mme. Courtois and the little maid alone broke the silence.
"You may imagine, Monsieur Lecoq, that when I got the address, having some time on my hands, I went to reconnoitre the house." "Well?" "The tenant's name is really Wilson, but it's not the man of the photograph, I'm certain." M. Plantat gave a groan of disappointment, but M. Lecoq was not so easily discouraged. "How did you find out?" "I pumped one of the servants."
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