“What do you mean? M. Darcieux. …”
“M. Darcieux is only her stepfather. She had just been born when her father, her real father, died. Jeanne’s mother then married a cousin of her husband’s, a man bearing the same name, and she died within a year of her second wedding. She left Jeanne in M. Darcieux’s charge. He first took her abroad and then bought this country-house; and, as nobody knew him in the neighbourhood, he represented the child as being his daughter. She herself did not know the truth about her birth.”
The doctor sat confounded. He asked:
“Are you sure of your facts?”
“I spent my day in the town-halls of the Paris municipalities. I searched the registers, I interviewed two solicitors, I have seen all the documents. There is no doubt possible.”
“But that does not explain the crime, or rather the series of crimes.”
“Yes, it does,” declared Lupin. “And, from the start, from the first hour when I meddled in this business, some words which Mlle. Darcieux used made me suspect that direction which my investigations must take. ‘I was not quite five years old when my mother died,’ she said. ‘That was sixteen years ago.’ Mlle. Darcieux, therefore, was nearly twenty-one, that is to say, she was on the verge of attaining her majority. I at once saw that this was an important detail. The day on which you reach your majority is the day on which your accounts are rendered. What was the financial position of Mlle. Darcieux, who was her mother’s natural heiress? Of course, I did not think of the father for a second. To begin with, one can’t imagine a thing like that; and then the farce which M. Darcieux was playing … helpless, bedridden, ill. …”
“Really ill,” interrupted the doctor.
“All this diverted suspicion from him … the more so as I believe that he himself was exposed to criminal attacks. But was there not in the family some person who would be interested in their removal? My journey to Paris revealed the truth to me: Mlle. Darcieux inherits a large fortune from her mother, of which her stepfather draws the income. The solicitor was to have called a meeting of the family in Paris next month. The truth would have been out. It meant ruin to M. Darcieux.”
“Then he had put no money by?”
“Yes, but he had lost a great deal as the result of unfortunate speculations.”
“But, after all, Jeanne would not have taken the management of her fortune out of his hands!”
“There is one detail which you do not know, doctor, and which I learnt from reading the torn letter. Mlle. Darcieux is in love with the brother of Marceline, her Versailles friend; M. Darcieux was opposed to the marriage; and—you now see the reason—she was waiting until she came of age to be married.”
“You’re right,” said the doctor, “you’re right. … It meant his ruin.”
“His absolute ruin. One chance of saving himself remained, the death of his stepdaughter, of whom he is the next heir.”
“Certainly, but on condition that no one suspected him.”
“Of course; and that is why he contrived the series of accidents, so that the death might appear to be due to misadventure. And that is why I, on my side, wishing to bring things to a head, asked you to tell him of Mlle. Darcieux’s impending departure. From that moment, it was no longer enough for the would-be sick man to wander about the grounds and the passages, in the dark, and execute some leisurely thought-out plan. No, he had to act, to act at once, without preparation, violently, dagger in hand. I had no doubt that he would decide to do it. And he did.”
“Then he had no suspicions?”
“Of me, yes. He felt that I would return tonight, and he kept a watch at the place where I had already climbed the wall.”
“Well?”
“Well,” said Lupin, laughing, “I received a bullet full in the chest … or rather my pocketbook received a bullet. … Here, you can see the hole. … So I tumbled from the tree, like a dead man. Thinking that he was rid of his only adversary, he went back to the house. I saw him prowl about for two hours. Then, making up his mind, he went to the coach-house, took a ladder and set it against the window. I had only to follow him.”
The doctor reflected and said:
“You could have collared him earlier. Why did you let him come up? It was a sore trial for Jeanne … and unnecessary.”
“On the contrary, it was indispensable! Mlle. Darcieux would never have accepted the truth. It was essential that she should see the murderer’s very face. You must tell her all the circumstances when she wakes. She will soon be well again.”
“But … M. Darcieux?”
“You can explain his disappearance as you think best … a sudden journey … a fit of madness. … There will be a few inquiries. … And you may be sure that he will never be heard of again.”
The doctor nodded his head:
“Yes … that is so … that is so … you are right. You have managed all this business with extraordinary skill; and Jeanne owes you her life. She will thank you in person. … But now, can I be of use to you in any way? You told me that you were connected with the detective-service. … Will you allow me to write and praise your conduct, your courage?”
Lupin began to laugh:
“Certainly! A letter of that kind will do me a world of good. You might write to my immediate superior, Chief-inspector Ganimard. He will be glad to hear that his favourite officer, Paul Daubreuil, of the Rue de Surène, has once again distinguished himself by a brilliant action. As it happens, I have an appointment to meet him about a case of which you may have heard: the case of the red scarf. … How pleased my dear M. Ganimard will be!”
VII
A Tragedy in the Forest of Morgues
The village was terror-stricken.
It was on a Sunday morning. The peasants of Saint-Nicolas and the neighbourhood were coming out of church
