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I want his legs bare below the knees." "It's an outrage!" cried Groener, for the first time showing feeling. "Silence, sir!" glared the magistrate. "You'll be bare above the knees in the morning when your measurements are taken." Then to the guard: "Do what I said." Again the guard obeyed, and Coquenil stood by in eager watchfulness as the prisoner's lower legs were uncovered.
There, I think we have you safely landed now, M. Adolf Groener!" The prisoner had not spoken a word; now he flashed at Coquenil a look of withering contempt that the detective long remembered, and, leaning close, he whispered: "You poor fool!" "There," he muttered, wiping his mouth, "that will keep me going for a few hours," and he touched the bell.
She wouldn't dare lie to me, and she says she has seen no such man as Groener." "Then he's in one of the upper apartments now?" "He must be." Coquenil turned back and forth, snapping his fingers softly. "I'm nervous, Papa Tignol," he said; "I ought not to have let him go in here, I ought to have nailed him when I had him. He's too dangerous a man to take chances with and mille tonneres, the roof!"
"He isn't her cousin, and she isn't Alice." "Wha-at?" "Her name is Mary, and he is her stepfather." The old man stared in bewilderment. "But how the devil do you know that?" Coquenil smiled. "I found an inscription on the back of that Brussels photograph I mean the genuine one it was hidden under a hinged support, and Groener must have overlooked it. That was his second great mistake."
So shrinking, perhaps, from the actual killing of this girl, you destroyed her identity; you gave it out that she, too, had perished in the flames and you proceeded to enjoy her stolen fortune while she sold candles in Notre-Dame church." "You have no proof of it!" shouted Groener. "No?
"Well, the last time M. Groener was here, that's about a month ago, he asked me and my husband to make inquiries about you, and see what we could find out." "It's abominable!" exclaimed Alice. "Abominable? Why is it abominable? Your cousin wants to know if this young man is a proper person for you to have as a friend." "I can decide that for myself," flashed the girl. "Oh, can you? Ha, ha!
As Groener stepped from the carriage, Coquenil was on the point of seizing him and stopping this farce forthwith. What would he gain by waiting? Yet, after all, what would he lose? With four trained men to guard the house there was no chance of the fellow escaping, and it was possible his visit here might reveal something.
Now then, my stubborn friend, what about these garments? What about this wig and false beard?" Groener rose wearily from his chair, walked deliberately to the table and glanced at the exposed objects without betraying the slightest interest or confusion. "I've never seen these things before, I know nothing about them," he said. "Name of a camel!" muttered Coquenil.
Is she charged with murder?" was the sneering answer. "Groener," said Hauteville sternly, "you say this woman is a person of your acquaintance. We'll see." He touched the bell, and as the door opened, "Madam Cecile," he said. A moment later, with a breath of perfume, there swept in a large, overdressed woman of forty-five with bold, dark eyes and hair that was too red to be real.
"Now Madam Bonneton," resumed Groener cheerfully, "while the young lady gets into her finery we might have a little talk. There are a few matters er " He looked apologetically at the others. "You and I will meet to-morrow, M. Matthieu; I'll see what I can do for you." "Thanks," said Matthieu, rising in response to this hint for his departure.
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