The Beast Within - Emile Zola [70]
‘Look at her!’ hissed Madame Lebleu. ‘I ask you! Just because she’s married to an assistant stationmaster, she thinks she’s a queen! She was like that first thing this morning; I saw her in her room — hair done and all dolled up! Anyone would think she was going out visiting!’
Séverine walked down the platform, careful not to hurry; it was a long platform, and all eyes were on her as she moved towards them. She managed to stay calm, discreetly applying her handkerchief to her eyes to show how upset she was at just learning who it was that had been murdered. She wore a black woollen dress and looked very elegant, as if in mourning for the man who had been her life-long guardian. Her thick black hair shone radiantly in the morning sunlight; despite the cold, she hadn’t stopped to put on a hat. Her sorrowful blue eyes were brimming with tears. It was all very touching.
‘I’m not surprised she’s upset,’ whispered Philomène. ‘Now they haven’t got his lordship to look after them, they’re done for!’
Severine made her way through the crowd towards the open door of the coupe. Monsieur Cauche and Roubaud climbed out of the carriage, and Roubaud immediately began to tell him what he knew.
‘We went to see Monsieur Grandmorin yesterday morning, as soon as we got to Paris, didn’t we, my dear? It was about a quarter past eleven, wasn’t it?’
He looked her straight in the eyes and she said quietly, ‘Yes, a quarter past eleven.’
She suddenly caught sight of the carriage seat covered in blood. A shudder ran through her, and she began to sob bitterly. The stationmaster, feeling sorry for her, quickly interposed.
‘Madame,’ he said, ‘we fully understand how deeply distressing this must be for you. If you find it too much, perhaps ...’
‘It will only take a minute or two,’ Monsieur Cauche interrupted. ‘And then we’ll get someone to accompany Madame back to her apartment.’
Roubaud promptly resumed what he was saying: ‘We talked about various things, and then Monsieur Grandmorin suddenly said that he was planning to go to Doinville the next day to visit his sister. I can see him now, sitting at his desk. I was standing here, and my wife was standing there ... Yes, he said he intended to leave the next day. Is that not so, my dear?’
‘Yes, the next day.’
Monsieur Cauche, who was jotting down notes with his pencil, looked up.
‘The next day?’ he queried. ‘But surely he left the same evening!’
‘Quite so,’ said Roubaud. ‘He knew that we were leaving in the evening, and at one point he suggested he might travel with us on the express. He thought my wife might like to go to Doinville with him and spend a few days there with his sister, as she has done before. But my wife had too much to do here in Le Havre, so she declined the invitation. That’s right, isn’t it, my dear? You declined the invitation.’
‘Yes, I declined the invitation.’
‘He was very nice about it,’ continued Roubaud. ‘And that seemed to be the end of the matter. We then talked about some business of mine, and he showed us out. Is that not so, my dear?’
‘Yes, he showed us out.’
‘We left in the evening. Just before we got into the train I had a chat with Monsieur Vandorpe, the stationmaster. I didn’t notice anything unusual. I was rather irritated because I thought we had a compartment to ourselves, but I hadn’t noticed a woman who was sitting in one of the window seats. Then two more people got in at the last minute, a married couple. That irritated me even more. Everything seemed perfectly normal all the way to Rouen. I didn’t see anything. At Rouen we got out to stretch our legs. You can imagine our surprise when we saw Monsieur Grandmorin standing by the door of a coupé, three or four carriages down from our own. “Why, Monsieur Grandmorin!” I said. “So you left this evening after all! We didn’t expect to be travelling with you.” He explained that he had received a telegram ... The guard blew his whistle, and we jumped back into our compartment. It was empty, by the way. Much to our