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A small man, habited like a well-to-do Parisian artisan, stood near the door, with an embarrassed expression of countenance. It was Robelot, who had remained, lest any new exigency for his services should arise. The entrance of his friend startled M. Courtois from the sad stupor into which he had been plunged.
They appreciated the value of the passing moments; M. Domini was waiting for them at Corbeil, and was doubtless getting impatient at their delay. Louis had just placed a sumptuous dish of fruit upon the table, when it occurred to M. Lecoq that Robelot was still shut up in the closet. "Probably the rascal needs something," said he.
But the name of Sauvresy fell upon his head like the stroke of a club, and he stammered, in a choked voice: "Sauvresy!" M. Plantat had already turned his head, and continued in an indifferent tone: "Yes, Sauvresy is to be exhumed. It is suspected that his death was not wholly a natural one. You see, justice always has its suspicions." Robelot leaned against the wall so as not to fall.
"I don't know." "But you didn't scale a wall and risk the jail without a definite object?" "Well, then, I wanted " He stopped. "What? Go on." "To get some rare flowers in the conservatory." "With your cutlass, hey?" said M. Lecoq. Robelot gave him a terrible look; the detective continued: "You needn't look at me that way you don't scare me. And don't talk like a fool, either.
"And a nice place, too, though a trifle damp. Happily you have stone to fill it in with, on the land that you bought of the widow Frapesle." Robelot had never seen the old justice of the peace so talkative, so familiar; he seemed a little surprised. "Three wretched pieces of land!" said he. "Not so bad as you talk about.
M. Plantat proceeded: "So Doctor Gendron has been applied to. He has, as you know, found reactive drugs which betray the presence of an alkaloid, whatever it may be, in the substances submitted to him for analysis. He has spoken to me of a certain sensitive paper " Appealing to all his energy, Robelot forced himself to stand up and resume a calm countenance.
A man, however, never permits an opinion deliberately and carefully formed to be refuted by one whom he looks on as an inferior, without a secret chagrin. But in this case the evidence was too abundant, and too positive to be resisted. "I am convinced," said he, "that a crime was committed on Monsieur Sauvresy with the dearly paid assistance of this Robelot.
No noise troubled the sad stillness of the library, unless it were the rustling of the leaves which M. Plantat was turning over, or now and then a groan from Robelot. "Before commencing," said the old man, "I ought to consider your weariness; we have been up twenty-four hours " But the others protested that they did not need repose. The fever of curiosity had chased away their exhaustion.
Robelot did not resist, but he asked for some water and a light. They gave him a bottle of water and a glass. "As for a light," said M. Lecoq, "you may dispense with it. You'll be playing us some dirty trick." M. Plantat, having shut the closet-door, took the detective's hand. "Monsieur," said he, earnestly, "you have probably just saved my life at the peril of your own; I will not thank you.
The old man was about to proceed when he heard a noise in the hall, and looking up he observed Robelot for the first time. His face at once betrayed his great annoyance. "You were there, were you?" he said. The bone-setter smiled obsequiously. "Yes, Monsieur, quite at your service." "You have been listening, eh?" "Oh, as to that, I was waiting to see if Madame Courtois had any commands for me."
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