The Champdoce Mystery

The Champdoce Mystery

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Champdoce Mystery, by Emile
Gaboriau This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and
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Title: The Champdoce Mystery
Author: Emile Gaboriau
Release Date: March 28, 2006 [EBook #2736]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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Produced by Dagny; Emma Dudding; John Bickers

THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
by Emile Gaboriau

This novel is a sequel to Caught in the Net. [Etext #2451]

CHAPTER I.
A DUCAL MONOMANIAC.
The traveller who wishes to go from Poitiers to London by the shortest
route will find that the simplest way is to take a seat in the stage-coach
which runs to Saumur; and when you book your place, the polite clerk
tells you that you must take your seat punctually at six o'clock. The
next morning, therefore, the traveller has to rise from his bed at a very
early hour, and make a hurried and incomplete toilet, and on arriving,
flushed and panting, at the office, discover that there was no occasion
for such extreme haste.
In the hotel from whence the coach starts every one seems to be asleep,
and a waiter, whose eyes are scarcely open, wanders languidly about.
There is not the slightest good in losing your temper, or in pouring out
a string of violent remonstrances. In a small restaurant opposite a cup
of hot coffee can be procured, and it is there that the disappointed
travellers congregate, to await the hour when the coach really makes a
start.
At length, however, all is ready, the conductor utters a tremendous
execration, the coachman cracks his whip, the horses spring forward,
the wheels rattle, and the coach is off at last. Whilst the conductor
smokes his pipe tranquilly, the passengers gaze out of the windows and
admire the beautiful aspect of the surrounding country. On each side
stretch the woods and fields of Bevron. The covers are full of game,
which has increased enormously, as the owner of the property has
never allowed a shot to be fired since he had the misfortune, some
twenty years ago, to kill one of his dependents whilst out shooting. On
the right hand side some distance off rise the tower and battlements of
the Chateau de Mussidan. It is two years ago since the Dowager
Countess of Chevanche died, leaving all her fortune to her niece,
Mademoiselle Sabine de Mussidan. She was a kind-hearted woman,
rough and ready in her manner, but very popular amongst the peasantry.
Farther off, on the top of some rising ground, appears an imposing
structure, of an ancient style of architecture; this is the ancient

residence of the Dukes of Champdoce. The left wing is a picturesque
mass of ruins; the roof has fallen in, and the mullions of the windows
are dotted with a thick growth of clustering ivy. Rain, storm, and
sunshine have all done their work, and painted the mouldering walls
with a hundred varied tints. In 1840 the inheritor of one of the noblest
names of France resided here with his only son. The name of the
present proprietor was Caesar Guillaume Duepair de Champdoce. He
was looked upon both by the gentry and peasantry of the country side
as a most eccentric individual. He could be seen any day wandering
about, dressed in the most shabby manner, and wearing a coat that was
frequently in urgent need of repair, a leathern cap on his head, wooden
shoes, and a stout oaken cudgel in his hand. In winter he supplemented
to these an ancient sheepskin coat. He was sixty years of age, very
powerfully built, and possessing enormous strength. The expression
upon his face showed that his will was as strong as his thews and
sinews. Beneath his shaggy eyebrows twinkled a pair of light-gray eyes,
which darkened when a fit of passion overtook him, and this was no
unusual occurrence.
During his military career in the army of the Conde, he had received a
sabre cut across his cheek, and the cicatrice imparted a strange and
unpleasant expression to his face. He was not a bad-hearted man, but
headstrong, violent, and tyrannical to a degree. The peasants saluted
him with a mixture of respect and dread as he walked to the chapel, to
which he was a regular attendant on Sundays, with his son. During the
Mass he made the responses in an audible voice, and at its conclusion
invariably put a five-franc piece into the plate. This, his subscription to
the newspaper, and the sum he paid for