The Widow Lerouge | Page 5

the man came after half-past nine his
shoes must have been very muddy. If they were dry, he arrived sooner.
This must have been noticed, for the floor is a polished one. Were there
any imprints of footsteps, M. Commissary?"
"I must confess we never thought of looking for them."
"Ah!" exclaimed the chief detective, in a tone of irritation, "that is
vexatious!"
"Wait," added the commissary; "there is yet time to see if there are any,
not in this room, but in the other. We have disturbed absolutely nothing
there. My footsteps and the corporal's will be easily distinguished. Let
us see."
As the commissary opened the door of the second chamber, Gevrol
stopped him. "I ask permission, sir," said he to the investigating
magistrate, "to examine the apartment before any one else is permitted
to enter. It is very important for me."
"Certainly," approved M. Daburon.
Gevrol passed in first, the others remaining on the threshold. They all
took in at a glance the scene of the crime. Everything, as the

commissary had stated, seemed to have been overturned by some
furious madman. In the middle of the room was a table covered with a
fine linen cloth, white as snow. Upon this was placed a magnificent
wineglass of the rarest manufacture, a very handsome knife, and a plate
of the finest porcelain. There was an opened bottle of wine, hardly
touched, and another of brandy, from which about five or six small
glassfuls had been taken.
On the right, against the wall, stood two handsome walnut-wood
wardrobes, with ornamental locks; they were placed one on each side
of the window; both were empty, and the contents scattered about on
all sides. There were clothing, linen, and other effects unfolded, tossed
about, and crumpled. At the end of the room, near the fireplace, a large
cupboard used for keeping the crockery was wide open. On the other
side of the fireplace, an old secretary with a marble top had been forced,
broken, smashed into bits, and rummaged, no doubt, to its inmost
recesses. The desk, wrenched away, hung by a single hinge. The
drawers had been pulled out and thrown upon the floor.
To the left of the room stood the bed, which had been completely
disarranged and upset. Even the straw of the mattress had been pulled
out and examined.
"Not the slightest imprint," murmured Gevrol disappointed. "He must
have arrived before half-past nine. You can all come in now."
He walked right up to the corpse of the widow, near which he knelt.
"It can not be said," grumbled he, "that the work is not properly done!
the assassin is no apprentice!"
Then looking right and left, he continued: "Oh! oh! the poor devil was
busy with her cooking when he struck her; see her pan of ham and eggs
upon the hearth. The brute hadn't patience enough to wait for the dinner.
The gentleman was in a hurry, he struck the blow fasting; therefore he
can't invoke the gayety of dessert in his defense!"
"It is evident," said the commissary to the investigating magistrate,

"that robbery was the motive of the crime."
"It is probable," answered Gevrol in a sly way; "and that accounts for
the absence of the silver spoons from the table."
"Look here! Some pieces of gold in this drawer!" exclaimed Lecoq,
who had been searching on his own account, "just three hundred and
twenty francs!"
"Well, I never!" cried Gevrol, a little disconcerted. But he soon
recovered from his embarrassment, and added: "He must have forgotten
them; that often happens. I have known an assassin, who, after
accomplishing the murder, became so utterly bewildered as to depart
without remembering to take the plunder, for which he had committed
the crime. Our man became excited perhaps, or was interrupted. Some
one may have knocked at the door. What makes me more willing to
think so is, that the scamp did not leave the candle burning. You see he
took the trouble to put it out."
"Pooh!" said Lecoq. "That proves nothing. He is probably an
economical and careful man."
The investigations of the two agents were continued all over the house;
but their most minute researches resulted in discovering absolutely
nothing; not one piece of evidence to convict; not the faintest indication
which might serve as a point of departure. Even the dead woman's
papers, if she possessed any, had disappeared. Not a letter, not a scrap
of paper even, to be met with. From time to time Gevrol stopped to
swear or grumble. "Oh! it is cleverly done! It is a tiptop piece of work!
The scoundrel is a cool hand!"
"Well, what do you make of it?" at length demanded the investigating
magistrate.
"It is a drawn game monsieur," replied Gevrol. "We