Ghosts by Gaslight - Jack Dann [203]
“No,” I murmured.
“And this apothecary,” he continued as he came into the room and collapsed over his daughter’s corpse. “I will hunt him down. I will have him arrested. He must be in a shop near here.”
“You will not find him,” I murmured. “Besides,” I pleaded, after a moment, “you must not trust the literal accuracy of these words. You say yourself they speak in code . . .”
“Does this sound like a code to you, Monsieur? She told us straight out what has happened. Ah God, ever since her death, this has been my fear. I could have predicted this. And yet I saw no trace of poison, no discarded vial.”
“These women are devious,” I said. “You cannot trust them. Conium maculatum leaves no trace.”
No matter what we undertook, we could not rouse her again. Instead, after another hour, we shut down the dynamo for the last time, and then deposed Mlle. Maubusson upon the table. My host picked up the scissors from the floor. “She must have mistaken you for him,” he said. “I can only apologize on her behalf.”
“She was evidently blind,” I concurred.
I write this at dawn. Perhaps I can claim a few hours’ sleep before my train. As I climbed the stairs, I saw my host descend to the front hall, an umbrella in his hand. I hate to think what he intends.
(From the private diary of Philippe Delorme, May 24th)
4. “. . . A CONGENITAL DEFECT . . .”
Q: You understand what I am saying to you?
A: Yes, Monsieur. Although I cannot speak English to my satisfaction, I can understand perfectly well.
Q: Good. How long have you worked for Mr. Maubusson?
A: Seven years.
Q: Good. Will you explain in your own words what happened on the morning of the 24th of May—that is, on Tuesday of last week?
A: What happened?
Q: I’m talking about Dr. Delorme.
A: Well, I brought him coffee in the morning. There was a break in the weather, and my master had already gone out. This was perhaps at eight o’clock. Professor Delorme was agitated and complained of a small fever. He told me he must take a carriage to the station, and so then I must inform him that the tracks were somewhat underwater between here and Jackson. You remember that morning—there was no steamship also, because the river was so high. Beyond St. Claude Avenue, the streets were all in flood.
Q: Delorme was a white man? What did he say?
A: Well, he was agitated, as I tell you. He said he would verify this information as he could.
Q: And Mr. Maubusson?
A: He was already gone, as I have said. I had no idea, yet, of the tragedy. And I must tell you, it was unnecessary. Mlle. Maubusson, she had a heart defect, it was well known. There was no mystery—she had a congenital defect, like her mother. But my master couldn’t accept it. He was so distracted in his grief. He could not see what was before his face. He must persuade himself of something different, or else make himself to be persuaded. It was Delorme that must have accomplished this, I don’t know why. But I must blame him. Monsieur Lockett and my master, until that night they were together in all things.
Q: A heart defect. You’re a doctor, are you?
A: No, sir.
Q: No medical training?
A: No.
Q: No. Where were you born? Santo Domingo, isn’t it? Tell me what Delorme did then.
A: He left his luggage and went out. It is still upstairs. He inquired from me after a girl, whom he had seen in the street the night before. A local girl, whom I recognized from his description. But he did not understand. He thought she was a woman of the town. But this was not the place, so close to Saint Roch’s church—it was not possible. I gave him the address. I told him, “Oh, so you will get your fortune read?” But he did not understand. He was a bad man, I think. He looked for another meaning, because he was desperate for this woman, even so early in the morning . . .
(From the police deposition of Prosper Charriere, May 30th)
5. “VOUS CHERCHEZ QUELQUE CHOSE?”
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, ARE YOU LOOKING FOR SOMETHING OR SOMEONE WHO IS LOST AND CANNOT BE FOUND? ARE