The Mystery of Orcival | Page 8

the
house.
The count's library, especially, had been turned topsy-turvy. The
assassins had not taken the trouble to force the locks; they had gone to
work with a hatchet. Surely they were confident of not being overheard;
for they must have struck tremendous blows to make the massive oaken
bureau fly in pieces.
Neither parlor nor smoking-room had been respected. Couches, chairs,
canopies were cut and torn as if they had been lunged at with swords.
Two spare chambers for guests were all in confusion.
They then ascended to the second story.
There, in the first room which they penetrated, they found, beside a
trunk which had been assaulted, but which was nnt not opened, a
hatchet for splitting wood which the valet de chambre recognized as
belonging to the house.
"Do you understand now?" said the mayor to M. Plantat. "The assassins
were in force, that's clear. The murder accomplished, they scattered
through the chateau, seeking everywhere the money they knew they
would find here. One of them was engaged in breaking open this trunk,
when the others, below, found the money; they called him; he hastened
down, and thinking all further search useless, he left the hatchet here."
"I see it," said the brigadier, "just as if I had been here."
The ground-floor, which they next visited, had been respected. Only,
after the crime had been committed, and the money secured, the
murderers had felt the necessity of refreshing themselves. They found

the remains of their supper in the dining-rooM. They had eaten up all
the cold meats left in.the cupboard. On the table, beside eight empty
bottles of wine and liqueurs, were ranged five glasses.
"There were five of them," said the mayor.
By force of will, M. Courtois had recovered his self-possession.
"Before going to view the bodies," said he, "I will send word to the
procureur of Corbeil. In an hour, we will have a judge of instruction,
who will finish our painful task."
A gendarme was instructed to harness the count's buggy, and to hasten
to the procureur. Then the mayor and the justice, followed by the
brigadier, the valet de chambre, and the two Bertauds, took their way
toward the river.
The park of Valfeuillu was very wide from right to left. From the house
to the Seine it was almost two hundred steps. Before the house was a
grassy lawn, interspersed with flower-beds. Two paths led across the
lawn to the river-bank.
But the murderers had not followed the paths. Making a short cut, they
had gone straight across the lawn. Their traces were perfectly visible.
The grass was trampled and stamped down as if a heavy load had been
dragged over it. In the midst of the lawn they perceived something red;
M. Plantat went and picked it up. It was a slipper, which the valet de
chambre recognized as the count's. Farther on, they found a white silk
handkerchief, which the valet declared he had often seen around the
count's neck. This handkerchief was stained with blood.
At last they arrived at the river-bank, under the willows from which
Philippe bad intended to cut off a branch; there they saw the body. The
sand at this place was much indented by feet seeking a firm support.
Everything indicated that here had been the supreme struggle.
M. Courtois understood all the importance of these traces.

"Let no one advance," said he, and, followed by the justice of the peace,
he approached the corpse. Although the face could not be distinguished,
both recognized the countess. Both had seen her in this gray robe,
adorned with blue trimmings.
Now, how came she there?
The mayor thought that having succeeded in escaping from the hands
of the murderers, she had fled wildly. They had pursued her, had caught
up with her there, and she had fallen to rise no more. This version
explained the traces of the struggle. It must have been the count's body
that they had dragged across the lawn.
M. Courtois talked excitedly, trying to impose his ideas on the justice.
But M. Plantat hardly listened; you might have thought him a hundred
leagues from Valfeuillu; he only responded by monosyllables - yes, no,
perhaps. And the worthy mayor gave himself great pains; he went and
came, measured steps, minutely scrutinized the ground.
There was not at this place more than a foot of water. A mud-hank,
upon which grew some clumps of flags and some water-lilies,
descended by a gentle decline from the bank to the middle of the river.
The water was very clear, and there was no current; the slippery and
slimy mire could be distinctly seen.
M. Courtois had gone thus far in his investigations, when he was struck
by a sudden idea.
"Bertaud," said he, "come here."
The