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Updated: July 21, 2025
"About a year ago, when I was engaged on the case of the murder of the Marquise de Langrune at her château of Beaulieu, down in Lot, I found a small piece of a map showing the district in which I was at the time. I took it to M. de Presles, the magistrate who was conducting the enquiry. He attached no importance to it, and I myself could not see at the time that it gave us any new evidence."
Hurrying back towards the château with the sergeant, Juve ran into M. de Presles outside the park gate. The magistrate had just arrived from Brives in a motor-car which he had commandeered for his personal use during the last few days. "Well," said Juve in his quiet, measured tones, "have you heard the news?"
And yet, when she heard of the count's determination to restore the magnificent chateau, she felt that her enjoyments were threatened, and she urged her husband to come to the arrangement with Leger about Les Moulineaux, so that they might retire from Presles and live at Isle-Adam.
Schinner backs me; and he has got me some work at the Chateau de Presles, where I am going in October to do some arabesques, panels, and other decorations, for which the Comte de Serizy, no doubt, will pay well. With such trifles and with orders from the dealers, I may manage to earn eighteen hundred to two thousand francs a year over and above the working expenses.
Juve pointed to a chair, took the paper mechanically, and smoothing it out, read, below a large head-line, "Is this a sequel to the Beaulieu Crime?" a story similar to that he had just gathered from M. de Presles' telegram.
I shall buy an estate I have my eye on Presles, which Madame de Serizy wants to sell. I shall be Crevel de Presles, member of the Common Council of Seine-et-Oise, and Deputy. I shall have a son! I shall be everything I have ever wished to be. 'Heh! said I, 'and what about your daughter? 'Bah! says he, 'she is only a woman! And she is quite too much of a Hulot. Valerie has a horror of them all.
M. de Presles broke in; "you are romancing now, M. Juve; you forget that the bedroom door was forced, the best proof of that being the bolt, which was found wrenched away and hanging literally at the end of the screws." "I was expecting you to say that, sir," said Juve with a smile. "But before I reply I should like to show you something rather quaint."
"'I mean to leave them where they are. Horses can only be broken in by lack of food, sleep, and sugar. Why, Baron Hulot was not so bad as Monsieur Crevel. "So, my poor dears, you may say good-bye to the money. And such a fine fortune! Your father paid three million francs for the Presles estate, and he has thirty thousand francs a year in stocks! Oh! he has no secrets from me.
"Well, Madame," Clapart would say, "Oscar is doing better than I even hoped. That journey to Presles was only a heedlessness of youth. Where can you find young lads who do not commit just such faults? Poor child! he bears his privations heroically! If his father had lived, he would never have had any. God grant he may know how to control his passions!" etc., etc.
"Why, no, my friend; the portress would have told us so when we came in," replied Madame Clapart. "She may have forgotten it." "What makes you think so?" "It wouldn't be the first time she has forgotten things for us, for God knows how people without means are treated." "Well," said the poor woman, to change the conversation and escape Clapart's cavilling, "Oscar must be at Presles by this time.
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