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Updated: June 14, 2025
Then to Tignol: "How about that telegram?" The old man stroked his rough chin. "The clerk gave me a copy of it, all right, when I showed my papers. Here it is and much good it will do us." He handed M. Paul a telegraph blank on which was written: DUBOIS, 20 Rue Chalgrin. Special bivouac amateur bouillon danger must have Sahara easily Groener arms impossible.
"He simply paid her five hundred francs to go out of the house with him?" "Exactly." "That will do. You may go." With a sigh of relief and a swish of her perfumed skirts, Madam Cecile left the room. "What do you say to that, Groener?" questioned the judge. "She's a disreputable person and her testimony has no value," answered the prisoner unconcernedly.
Meantime, Alice, with new life in her heart, was putting on her best dress and hat as Groener had bidden her, and presently she joined her cousin in the salon where he sat smoking a cheap cigar and finishing his talk with Mother Bonneton. "Ah," he said, "are you ready?" And looking at her more closely, he added: "Poor child, you've been crying. Wait!" and he motioned Mother Bonneton to leave them.
A couple came down the stairs smiling and separated coldly at the door. Then a man came out alone, and the detective's eyes bored into him. It wasn't Groener. Finally, Tignol returned and reported all well at the other exits; no one had gone out who could possibly be the wood carver.
"Whatever I need I shall have," came the sharp retort. "Have you anything to say about those finger-nail marks?" "Nothing." "There's a peculiarity about those marks, Groener. The little finger of the hand that made them is abnormally, extraordinarily long. Experts say that in a hundred thousand hands you will not find one with so long a little finger, perhaps not one in a million.
"You haven't a young cousin known as Alice Groener?" "No." During these questions the door had opened silently at a sign from the magistrate, and Alice herself had entered the room. "Turn around!" ordered the judge sharply, and as the accused obeyed he came suddenly face to face with the girl. At the sight of him Alice started in surprise and fear and cried out: "Oh, Cousin Adolf!"
"I tell you I know nothing about this man or his medal," flung back the prisoner. "No? Then you will be glad to hear the story. It was a medal of solid gold, awarded Martinez by the city of Paris for conspicuous bravery in saving lives at the terrible Charity Bazaar fire. You have heard of the Charity Bazaar fire, Groener?" "Yes, I I have heard of it."
His face was deathly white, his eyes were staring. "We've got him going now," muttered Coquenil. "Sit down!" ordered the judge. "You can stop this examination very easily by telling the truth." The prisoner dropped back weakly on his chair and sat with eyes closed and head fallen forward. He did not speak. "Do you hear, Groener?" continued Hauteville.
"Ammonia quick," he said to his assistant, and a moment later, with the strong fumes at his nostrils, Groener stirred and opened his eyes weakly. Just then a sound was heard in the distance as of a galloping horse. The white-faced prisoner started and listened eagerly. Nearer and nearer came the rapid hoof beats, echoing through the deserted streets.
"I'm absolutely sure it was Father Anselm," answered the wood carver positively. He paused a moment while the detective wondered what was the meaning of this extraordinary statement. Why was the man giving him these details about Alice, and how much of them was true? Did Groener know he was talking to Paul Coquenil? If so, he knew that Coquenil must know he was lying about Father Anselm.
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