“And what conclusion do you draw from the fact that the crime is a crapulous one?” the magistrate proceeded to enquire.
“Merely that it cannot have been committed by Charles Rambert,” Juve answered very gravely. “He is a young man who has been well brought up, he comes of very good stock, and his age makes it most improbable that he can be a professional criminal.”
“Obviously, obviously!” murmured the magistrate, not a little embarrassed by the keen logic of the detective.
“And now let us consider the motive or motives of the crime,” Juve continued. “Why did the man commit this murder?”
“Doubtless for purposes of robbery,” said the magistrate.
“What did he want to steal?” Juve retorted. “As a matter of fact, Mme. de Langrune’s diamond rings and watch and purse were all found on her table, in full view of everybody; in the drawers that had been broken open I found other jewels, over twenty pounds in gold and silver, and three banknotes in a card-case. What is your view, sir, of a crapulous robber who sees valuables like that within his reach, and who does not take them?”
“It is certainly surprising,” the magistrate admitted.
“Very surprising; and goes to show that although the crime in itself is a common, sordid one, the criminal may have had higher, or at any rate different, aspirations from those which would lead an ordinary ruffian to commit murder for the sake of robbery. The age and social position and personality of Mme. de Langrune make it very unlikely that she had enemies, or was the object of vengeance, and therefore if she was got rid of, it was very likely that she might be robbed—but robbed of what? Was there something more important than money or jewels to be got? I frankly admit that although I put the question I am at a loss how to answer it.”
“Obviously,” murmured the magistrate again, still more puzzled by all these logical deductions.
Juve proceeded with the development of his ideas.
“And now suppose we are face to face with a crime committed without any motive, as a result of some morbid impulse, a by no means uncommon occurrence, monomania or temporary insanity?
“In that case, although, in consequence of the crapulous nature of the crime, I had previously dismissed the very serious presumption of guilt attaching to young Rambert, I should be inclined to reconsider my opinion and think it possible that he might be the culprit. We know very little about the young fellow from the physiological point of view; in fact we don’t know him at all; but it seems that his family is not altogether normal, and I understand that his mother’s mental condition is precarious. If for a moment we regard Charles Rambert as a hysterical subject, we can associate him with the murder of the Marquise de Langrune without thereby destroying our case that the crime is a crapulous one, for a man of only medium physical strength, when suffering from an attack of mental alienation, has his muscular power increased at least tenfold during his paroxysms. Under such influence as that Charles Rambert might have committed murder with all the fierce brutality of a giant!
“But I shall soon be in possession of absolutely accurate knowledge as to the muscular strength of the murderer,” Juve proceeded. “Quite lately M. Bertillon invented a marvellous dynamometer which enables us not only to ascertain what kind of lever has been used to force a lock or a piece of furniture, but also to determine the exact strength of the individual who used the tools. I have taken samples of the wood from the broken drawer, and I shall soon have exact information.”
“That will be immensely important,” M. de Presles agreed. “Even if it does away with our present certainty of Charles Rambert’s guilt, we shall be able to find out whether the murder was committed by any other occupant of the house—still assuming that it was committed by some member of the household.”
“With regard to that,” said Juve, “we can proceed with our method of deduction and eliminate from our field of observation everybody who has a good alibi or other defence; it will be so much ground cleared. For my own part I find it impossible to suspect the two old maidservants, Louise and Marie; the tramps whom we have detained and subsequently released are too simple-minded, elementary people to have been capable of devising the minute precautions which demonstrate the subtle cleverness of the man who murdered the Marquise. Then there is Dollon; but I imagine you will agree with me in thinking that his alibi removes him from suspicion—more especially as the medical evidence proves that the murder was committed during the night, between two and three o’clock.”
“Only M. Etienne Rambert is left,” the magistrate put in, “and about nine o’clock that evening he left the d’Orsay station in the slow train which reaches Verrières at 6:55 a.m. He spent the whole night in the train, for he certainly arrived by that one. He could not have a better alibi.”
“Not possibly,” Juve replied. “So we need only trouble ourselves with Charles Rambert,” and warming up to the subject the detective proceeded to pile up a crushing indictment against the young man. “The crime was committed so quietly that not the faintest sound
