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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Oh, yes, I loved her," Charles Rambert answered; "but I hardly knew her either." And as Thérèse showed her surprise he went on, telling her something of the secret of his lonely childhood. "You see, Thérèse, now that I am a man I guess lots of things that I could not have had even a suspicion of then. My father and mother did not get on well together.
"The probable, almost certain, inference is that M. Etienne Rambert got into that slow train at the gare d'Orsay for the definite purpose of establishing an alibi, and then got out of it on the other side, and entered an express that was going in the same direction, and in front of the slow train.
Etienne Rambert muttered: "Thérèse, you were outside?" The child's lips moved: she seemed to be making a more than human effort, and a whisper escaped her lips: "Yes " But she could say no more: her eyes rolled, her whole frame tottered, and then, without sign or cry, she fell rigid and unconscious to the floor.
"This refusal to answer my questions is in itself tantamount to a confession," he said acidly. "Well, we will proceed to call the witnesses. I should like to say that the most interesting witness would undoubtedly be Bouzille, the tramp who recovered the body of Charles Rambert; but unfortunately that individual has no fixed abode and it has not been possible to serve him with a subpoena."
"Committed the murder? I? You accuse me of having killed the Marquise? It is infamous, hateful, awful!" "Alas, yes!" "No, no! Good God, no!" "Yes!" Etienne Rambert insisted. The two men faced each other, panting.
Oh, if science could but establish the fact that the child of a tainted mother " "Tainted?" Charles exclaimed; "what do you mean?" "Tainted with a terrible and mysterious disease," Etienne Rambert went on: "a disease before which we are powerless and unarmed insanity!" "What?" cried Charles, growing momentarily more distressed and bewildered; "what is that, papa? Are my wits going?
"If that poor drowned corpse is my son's: is my poor Charles!" "It is rather you who can tell me, sir," said Juve, impassive as ever. There was a pause. Despite his emotion, M. Rambert seemed to be thinking deeply. Suddenly he appeared to make an important decision, and raising his eyes to the detective he spoke very slowly: "Have pity, sir, on a broken-hearted father.
If he committed murder, it was in a fit of temporary insanity! He is dead; I refuse to cover his memory with the stain of infamy!" "In other words, according to you Charles Rambert did confess, but you don't want to say so." "I do not say he did confess." "You leave it to be inferred." Etienne Rambert made no reply, and the judge passed on to another point.
"Good Lord, how cold it is! And it is still pitch dark!" "Surely you are not going to be frightened?" said Thérèse teasingly. Charles Rambert made an irritable movement of vexation and surprise. "Frightened? What do you take me for, Thérèse? If I don't like going out in the early morning it's really only because it is cold."
You will be able to earn an honest and respectable name that way. Would you like to try that idea?" "It's awfully good of you," Charles Rambert said gratefully. "I should love to be able to earn my living by work so much to my taste." Juve cut his thanks short, and held out some bank-notes. "There's some money; now clear out; it's high time we both got a little sleep.
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