The Mystery of Orcival [142]
I have told you the truth. Monsieur de Tremorel murdered his wife on Wednesday night. I am a detective and I have a warrant to arrest him."
He thought this terrible charge would overwhelm Laurence; he was mistaken. She was thunderstruck, but she stood firm. The crime horrified her, but it did not seem to her entirely improbable, knowing as she did the hatred with which Hector was inspired by Bertha.
Well, perhaps he did," cried she, sublime in her energy and despair; "I am his accomplice, then - arrest me."
This cry, which seemed to proceed from the most senseless passion, amazed the old justice, but did not surprise M. Lecoq.
"No, Madame," he resumed, "you are not this man's accomplice. Besides, the murder of his wife is the least of his crimes. Do you know why he did not marry you? Because in concert with Bertha, he poisoned Monsieur Sauvresy, who saved his life and was his best friend. We have the proof of it."
This was more than poor Laurence could bear; she staggered and fell upon a sofa. But she did not doubt the truth of what M. Lecoq said. This terrible revelation tore away the veil which, till then, had hidden the past from her. The poisoning of Sauvresy explained all Hector's conduct, his position, his fears, his promises, his lies, his hate, his recklessness, his marriage, his flight. Still she tried not to defend him, but to share the odium of his crimes.
"I knew it," she stammered, in a voice broken by sobs, "I knew it all."
The old justice was in despair.
"How you love him, poor child!" murmured he.
This mournful exclamation restored to Laurence all her energy; she made an effort and rose, her eyes glittering with indignation:
"I love him!" cried she. "I! Ah, I can explain my conduct to you, my old friend, for you are worthy of hearing it. Yes, I did love him, it is true - loved him to the forgetfulness of duty, to self-abandonment. But one day he showed himself to me as he was; I judged him, and my love did not survive my contempt. I was ignorant of Sauvresy's horrible death. Hector confessed to me that his life and honor were in Bertha's hands - and that she loved him. I left him free to abandon me, to marry, thus sacrificing more than my life to what I thought was his happiness; yet I was not deceived. When I fled with him I once more sacrificed myself, when I saw that it was impossible to conceal my shame. I wanted to die. I lived, and wrote an infamous letter to my mother, and yielded to Hector's prayers, because he pleaded with me in the name of my - of our child!"
M. Lecoq, impatient at the loss of time, tried to say something; but Laurence would not listen to him.
"But what matter?" she continued. "I loved him, followed him, and am his: Constancy at all hazards is the only excuse for a fault like mine. I will do my duty. I cannot be innocent when Hector has committed a crime; I desire to suffer half the punishment."
She spoke with such remarkable animation that the detective despaired of calming her, when two whistles in the street struck his ear. Tremorel was returning and there was not a moment to be lost. He suddenly seized Laurence by the arm.
"You will tell all this to the judges, Madame," said he, sternly. "My orders are only for M. de Tremorel. Here is the warrant to arrest him."
He took out the warrant and laid it upon the table. Laurence, by the force of her will, had become almost calm.
"You will let me speak five minutes with the Count de Tremorel, will you not?" she asked.
M. Lecoq was delighted; he had looked for this request, and expected it.
"Five minutes? Yes," he replied. "But abandon all hope, Madame, of saving the prisoner; the house is watched; if you look in the court and in the street you will see my men in ambuscade. Besides, I am going to stay here in the next room."
The count was heard ascending the stairs.
"There's Hector!" cried Laurence, "quick, quick! conceal yourselves!"
She added, as they were retiring, in a low tone, but not so low as to prevent the detective from hearing her:
He thought this terrible charge would overwhelm Laurence; he was mistaken. She was thunderstruck, but she stood firm. The crime horrified her, but it did not seem to her entirely improbable, knowing as she did the hatred with which Hector was inspired by Bertha.
Well, perhaps he did," cried she, sublime in her energy and despair; "I am his accomplice, then - arrest me."
This cry, which seemed to proceed from the most senseless passion, amazed the old justice, but did not surprise M. Lecoq.
"No, Madame," he resumed, "you are not this man's accomplice. Besides, the murder of his wife is the least of his crimes. Do you know why he did not marry you? Because in concert with Bertha, he poisoned Monsieur Sauvresy, who saved his life and was his best friend. We have the proof of it."
This was more than poor Laurence could bear; she staggered and fell upon a sofa. But she did not doubt the truth of what M. Lecoq said. This terrible revelation tore away the veil which, till then, had hidden the past from her. The poisoning of Sauvresy explained all Hector's conduct, his position, his fears, his promises, his lies, his hate, his recklessness, his marriage, his flight. Still she tried not to defend him, but to share the odium of his crimes.
"I knew it," she stammered, in a voice broken by sobs, "I knew it all."
The old justice was in despair.
"How you love him, poor child!" murmured he.
This mournful exclamation restored to Laurence all her energy; she made an effort and rose, her eyes glittering with indignation:
"I love him!" cried she. "I! Ah, I can explain my conduct to you, my old friend, for you are worthy of hearing it. Yes, I did love him, it is true - loved him to the forgetfulness of duty, to self-abandonment. But one day he showed himself to me as he was; I judged him, and my love did not survive my contempt. I was ignorant of Sauvresy's horrible death. Hector confessed to me that his life and honor were in Bertha's hands - and that she loved him. I left him free to abandon me, to marry, thus sacrificing more than my life to what I thought was his happiness; yet I was not deceived. When I fled with him I once more sacrificed myself, when I saw that it was impossible to conceal my shame. I wanted to die. I lived, and wrote an infamous letter to my mother, and yielded to Hector's prayers, because he pleaded with me in the name of my - of our child!"
M. Lecoq, impatient at the loss of time, tried to say something; but Laurence would not listen to him.
"But what matter?" she continued. "I loved him, followed him, and am his: Constancy at all hazards is the only excuse for a fault like mine. I will do my duty. I cannot be innocent when Hector has committed a crime; I desire to suffer half the punishment."
She spoke with such remarkable animation that the detective despaired of calming her, when two whistles in the street struck his ear. Tremorel was returning and there was not a moment to be lost. He suddenly seized Laurence by the arm.
"You will tell all this to the judges, Madame," said he, sternly. "My orders are only for M. de Tremorel. Here is the warrant to arrest him."
He took out the warrant and laid it upon the table. Laurence, by the force of her will, had become almost calm.
"You will let me speak five minutes with the Count de Tremorel, will you not?" she asked.
M. Lecoq was delighted; he had looked for this request, and expected it.
"Five minutes? Yes," he replied. "But abandon all hope, Madame, of saving the prisoner; the house is watched; if you look in the court and in the street you will see my men in ambuscade. Besides, I am going to stay here in the next room."
The count was heard ascending the stairs.
"There's Hector!" cried Laurence, "quick, quick! conceal yourselves!"
She added, as they were retiring, in a low tone, but not so low as to prevent the detective from hearing her: