The Man in Grey | Page 9

There never was a more inoffensive creature. What motive could the brute have for such a villainous murder?"
The pr��fet shrugged his shoulders.
"Some private quarrel, I imagine," he said.
"A love affair?" queried the Man in Grey.
"Oh no, Monsieur. Maxence was the wrong side of fifty."
"A smart man?"
"Anything but smart -- a curious, shock-headed, slouchy-looking person with hair as red as a fox's."
Just for the space of one second the colourless eyes of the Man in Grey lit up with a quick and intense light; it seemed for the moment as if an exclamation difficult to suppress would escape his thin, bloodless lips, and his whole insignificant figure appeared to be quivering with a sudden, uncontrollable eagerness. But this departure from his usual quietude was so momentary that M. le pr��fet failed to notice it, whilst M. le Procureur remained as usual uninterested and detached.
"Poor Maxence!" resumed M. Vimars after awhile. "He had, as far as is known, not a single enemy in the world. He was devoted to Madame la Marquise and enjoyed her complete confidence; he was not possessed of any savings, nor was he of a quarrelsome disposition. He can't have had more than a few francs about his person when he was so foully waylaid and murdered. Indeed, it is because the crime is ostensibly so wanton that the police at once dismissed the idea that those abominable Chouans had anything to do with it!"
"Is the road where the body was found very lonely of nights?" asked the Man in Grey.
"It is a lonely road," replied the pr��fet, "and never considered very safe, as it is a favourite haunt of the Chouans -- but it is the direct road between Alen?on and Mayenne, through Lonrai and Pl��lan."
"Is it known what business took the confidential valet of Madame la Marquise de Pl��lan on that lonely road in the middle of the night?"
"It has not been definitely established," here broke in M. le Procureur curtly, "that the murder was committed in the middle of the night."
"I thought ----"
"The body was found in the early morning," continued M. de Saint-Trop��ze with an air of cold condescension; "the man had been dead some hours -- the leech has not pronounced how many. Maxence had no doubt many friends or relations in Alen?on: it is presumed that he spent the afternoon in the city and was on his way back to Pl��lan in the evening when he was waylaid and murdered."
"That presumption is wrong," said the Man in Grey quietly.
"Wrong?" retorted M. le Procureur frigidly.
"What do you mean?"
"I was walking home from Pl��lan towards Alen?on in the small hours of the morning. There was no dead body lying in the road then."
"The body lay by the roadside, half in the ditch," said M. le Procureur dryly, "you may have missed seeing it."
"Possibly," rejoined the Man in Grey equally dryly, "but unlikely."
"Were you looking out for it then?" riposted the Procureur. But no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he realised his mistake. The Man in Grey made no reply; he literally appeared to withdraw himself into an invisible shell, to efface himself yet further within a colourless atmosphere, out of which it was obviously unwise to try to drag him.
M. le Procureur pressed his thin lips together, impatient with himself at an unnecessary loss of dignity. As usual M. le pr��fet was ready to throw himself into the breach.
"I am sure," he said with his usual volubility, "that we are wasting Monsieur le Procureur's valuable time now. I can assure you, Monsieur -- er -- Fernand, that our chief commissary of police can give you all the details of the crime -- if, indeed, they interest you. Shall we go now? -- that is," he added, with that same feeling of hesitation which overcame him every time he encountered the secret agent's calm, inquiring look, "that is -- er -- unless there's anything else you wish to ask of Monsieur le Procureur."
"I wish to know with regard to the murder, what was the cause of death," said the Man in Grey quietly.
"A pistol shot, sir," replied M. de Saint-Trop��ze coldly, "right between the shoulder blades, delivered at short range apparently, seeing that the man's coat was charred and blackened with powder. The leech avers that he must have fallen instantly."
"Shot between the shoulders, and yet found lying on his back," murmured the Man in Grey. "And was nothing at all found upon the body that would give a clue to the motive of the crime?"
"Nothing, my dear sir," broke in the pr��fet glibly, "nothing at all. In his breeches' pocket there was a greasy and crumpled sheet of letter-paper, which on examination was found to be covered with a row of numerals all at random -- like a child's exercise-book."
"Could