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Long rows of books in calf and gilt were ranged on the carved oaken shelves, a movable table near the fireplace contained M. Plantat's favorite books, the discreet friends of his solitude. A spacious conservatory, fitted with every accessory and convenience, was his only luxury. In it flourished one hundred and thirty-seven varieties of briars.
We will succeed you will see, we will aid each other, we will put all the police on the scent, we will search through France, money will do it I have it I have millions take them " His energies were exhausted: he staggered and fell heavily on the lounge. "He must not remain here long," muttered the doctor in Plantat's ear, "he must get to bed.
This word "trial" put an end to M. Plantat's long hesitation. "We mustn't have any trial," cried he. The old man's violence, from one who was usually so calm and self-possessed, seemed to amaze M. Lecoq. "Ah ha," thought he, "I'm going to know all." He added aloud: "What, no trial?" M. Plantat had turned whiter than a sheet; he was trembling, and his voice was hoarse, as if broken by sobs.
Doubtless many of its details escaped him: he was ignorant of the starting-point; but he saw the way clearing before him. He had surprised Plantat's theory, and had followed the train of his thought step by step; thus he discovered the complications of the crime which seemed so simple to M. Domini.
M. Plantat's confidence was indeed very great; but the more he reflected, the more perilous and difficult seemed the attempt to save Tremorel from a trial. The most poignant doubts troubled and tortured his mind. His own life was at stake; for he had sworn to himself that he would not survive the ruin of Laurence in being forced to confess in full court her dishonor and her love for Hector.
Seizing a glass, he put it to M. Plantat's nose, adding: "See for yourself." There was no disputing it; the vinegar was good, its odor of the strongest; the villains, in their haste, had left behind them an incontestable proof of their intention to mislead the officers of justice. While they were capable of shrewd inventions, they did not have the art to perform them well.
He spoke deliberately, and watched for the effect of what he said in M. Plantat's countenance. "Where on earth did this old fellow get all these details?" he asked himself. "Did he write this narrative, and if not, who did? How was it, if he had all this information, that he has said nothing?" M. Plantat appeared to be unconscious of the detective's searching look.
"A piece of parchment does not make science. I don't fear the men of the schools. I study animals in the fields and the stable, without bragging. I haven't my equal for raising them, nor for knowing their diseases." M. Plantat's tone became more and more winning. "I know that you are a bright fellow, full of experience.
"I know that well enough; you are prosperous you ought to be satisfied." M. Plantat's tone was friendly, almost paternal. He was deeply interested, evidently, in Robelot's prosperity. "Satisfied!" resumed the bone-setter. "Not so much as you might think. Life is very dear for poor people." "But, haven't you just purchased an estate near d'Evry?" "Yes."
As for M. Lecoq, who, in presence of the judge, had resumed his haberdasher manner, he was so much surprised that he nearly strangled himself with a lozenge. "A thousand devils!" exclaimed he. "That's tough, that is!" He smiled sillily, and added in a low tone, meant only for Plantat's ear. "Mighty tough! Though quite foreseen in our calculations.
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