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But, at the first onslaught of danger, Renine realized the place which Hortense had taken in his life and he was in despair at knowing her to be a prisoner and a martyr and at being unable to save her. He spent a feverish, agitated night, turning the case over and over from every point of view. The Wednesday morning was also a terrible time for him. He was losing ground.
"By Jove!" muttered Renine. "What's the matter?" In front of the cafe was a small terrace bordered on the right and left by spindle-trees planted in boxes, which were connected by a paling. Behind the shrubs, sitting on a bank but stooping forward so that they could see Dalbreque through the branches, were four men. "Police!" said Renine. "What bad luck!
"Pooh!" he said. "A man may surely indulge himself a little once a year!..." "Aunt will give you a scolding!" "Your aunt has one of her sick headaches and is not coming down. Besides," he added, gruffly, "it is not her business ... and still less is it yours, my dear child." Prince Renine came up to Hortense.
It was at this moment that the motor-car containing the examining-magistrate and the public prosecutor pulled up outside the chalets. Renine, who did not expect them until later, said to Hortense: "We must be quick. On no account leave Madame d'Ormeval."
Dalbreque, hit in the leg and the chest, pitched forward and fell. "Thank you, sir," said the inspector to Renine introducing himself. "We owe a lot to you." "It seems to me that you've done for the fellow," said Renine. "Who is he?" "One Dalbreque, a scoundrel for whom we were looking." Renine was beside himself. Hortense had joined him by this time; and he growled: "The silly fools!
It was a glorious morning and they sat down on the terrace of the Restaurant Imperial, a little to one side. Hortense, feeling glad to be alive, was in a playful mood, full of attractive grace. Renine, lest he should startle her, refrained from alluding to the compact into which they had entered at his suggestion. She told him how she had left La Mareze and said that she had not heard of Rossigny.
The people who had lived there and who had made it the most individual room in their house had gone away leaving everything just as it was, the books which they used to read, the knick-knacks on the tables and consoles. Renine examined the old grandfather's clock, contained in its tall carved case which showed the disk of the pendulum through an oval pane of glass. He opened the door of the clock.
He is not dead, I am sure, only wounded; and Prince Renine will save him. You will, won't you, Renine?... Come. Make up a story for your servant: say that you're going somewhere by train and that she is not to tell anybody. Be quick. Put on a wrap. We will save him, I swear we will."
The poor creature hesitated to reply: the evidence of guilt had evidently been overwhelming. Then, obeying a sign from Renine, she answered without a pause: "The murderer went to Suresnes on a motorcycle and the tracks discovered were those of my husband's machine. They found a handkerchief with my husband's initials; and the revolver which was used belonged to him.
And suddenly she rushed at Renine, stammering: "He is arrested?... I am sure of it!... And you have come to tell me.... Arrested! Wounded! Dead perhaps?... Oh, please, please!..." She had no strength left. All her pride, all the certainty of her great love gave way to an immense despair and she sobbed out. "No, he's not dead, is he? No, I feel that he's not dead. Oh, sir, how unjust it all is!
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