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Updated: June 24, 2025
"This letter," cried he, "which has plunged her family into the deepest grief, and which will perhaps kill poor Courtois, is only one more scene of the infamous drama which the count has planned." "Oh," said the doctor, "is it possible?" "I am firmly of Monsieur Plantat's opinion," said the detective. "Last evening we had the same suspicion at the same moment at the mayor's.
Five or six years ago, he was my laboratory boy, and even now I employ him when I have a delicate operation on hand " The doctor stopped, struck by the alteration in the impassible Plantat's features. "What is the matter, my friend?" he asked. "Are you ill?" The judge left his notes, to look at him. "Why," said he, "Monsieur Plantat is very pale "
He told me he wanted to see Monsieur Plantat, and I " "And Mademoiselle Laurence?" asked M. Plantat, with a trembling voice. Baptiste assumed a tragic pose. "Ah, gentlemen," said he, "don't ask me about her 'tis heartrending!" The doctor and M. Plantat heard no more, but hurried in; M. Lecoq followed, having confided his night-gown to Baptiste, with, "Carry that to M. Plantat's quick!"
A bucket of ice-water falling on M. Plantat's head could not have surprised him more, or more disagreeably, than this speech. "What!" stammered he, with an air of frank amazement, "do you, a man of experience, who " Delighted with the success of his ruse, Lecoq could not keep his countenance, and Plantat, who perceived that he had been caught in the snare, laughed heartily.
"These conjectures are very shrewd," interposed M. Plantat; "but how is it that Guespin did not rejoin his comrades in the Batignolles? For in that way, to a certain degree, he might have provided a kind of alibi." Dr. Gendron had been sitting on the only unbroken chair in the chamber, reflecting on Plantat's sudden embarrassment, when he had spoken of Robelot the bone-setter.
M. Lecoq hastened to throw a shawl which he saw on a chair about her shoulders, and passed her arm through M. Plantat's, saying to the latter: "Go, lead her away; my men have orders to let you pass, and Palot will lend you his carriage." "But where shall we go?" "To Orcival; Monsieur Courtois has been informed by a letter from me that his daughter is living, and he is expecting her.
I see something underneath all this but what? what?" M. Plantat's face remained placid, but his eyes shone. "Perhaps you are right," said he, carelessly; "perhaps there is something underneath." The detective looked at him; he didn't stir. His face seemed the most undisturbed in the world.
What do you say to this honest and worthy young man, who, on the very night of the crime, leaves a wedding where he would have had a good time, to go and buy a hammer, a chisel, and a dirk everything, in short, used in the murder and the mutilation of the body?" Dr. Gendron seemed a little disconcerted at this, but a sly smile overspread M. Plantat's face.
What was the object of this autobiography? Without appearing to notice the surprise of his companions, he lit a fresh cigar; then, whether designedly or not, instead of replacing the lamp with which he lit it on the table, he put it on one corner of the mantel. Thus M. Plantat's face was in full view, while that of M. Lecoq remained in shadow.
M. Lecoq was at that moment curiously examining a large portrait of the Count Hector, which hung opposite the bed. Hearing M. Plantat's question, he turned. "I have found nothing decisive," answered he, "and I have found nothing to refute my conjectures. But " He did not finish; perhaps he too, recoiled before his share of the responsibility. "What?" insisted M. Domini, sternly.
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