Part 3

“Yes, sir--at least since I have been in attendance upon him.”

“Very good. That is a chance in our favor. Tell me--have you ever heard him complain of vertigo, or of a buzzing in his ears?”

“Never.”

Mademoiselle Marguerite seemed inclined to volunteer some remark, but the doctor imposed silence upon her by a gesture, and continued his examination. “Is the count a great eater?” he inquired. “Does he drink heavily?”

“The count is moderation itself, monsieur, and he always takes a great deal of water with his wine.”

The doctor listened with an air of intent thoughtfulness, his head slightly inclined forward, his brow contracted, and his under lip puffed out, while from time to time he stroked his beardless chin. He was copying his master. “The devil!” he said, sotto voce. “There must be some cause for such an attack, however. Nothing in the count’s constitution predisposes him to such an accident----” Then, suddenly turning toward Mademoiselle Marguerite: “Do you know, mademoiselle, whether the count has experienced any very violent emotion during the past few days?”

“Something occurred this very morning, which seemed to annoy him very much.”

“Ah! now we have it,” said the doctor, with the air of an oracle. “Why did you not tell me all this at first? It will be necessary for you to give me the particulars, mademoiselle.”

The young girl hesitated. The servants were dazed by the doctor’s manner; but Mademoiselle Marguerite was far from sharing their awe and admiration. She would have given anything to have had the regular physician of the household there instead of him! As for this coarse examination in the presence of all these servants, and by the bedside of a man who, in spite of his apparent unconsciousness, was, perhaps, able to hear and to comprehend, she looked upon it as a breach of delicacy, even of propriety.

“It is of the most urgent importance that I should be fully informed of these particulars,” repeated the physician peremptorily.

After such an assertion, further hesitation was out of the question. Mademoiselle Marguerite seemed to collect her thoughts, and then she sadly said: “Just as we sat down to breakfast this morning, a letter was handed to the count. No sooner had his eyes fallen upon it, than he turned as white as his napkin. He rose from his seat and began to walk hastily up and down the dining-room, uttering exclamations of anger and sorrow. I spoke to him, but he did not seem to hear me. However, after a few moments, he resumed his seat at the table, and began to eat----”

“As usual?”

“He ate more than usual, monsieur. Only I must tell you that it seemed to me he was scarcely conscious of what he was doing. Four or five times he left the table, and then came back again. At last, after quite a struggle, he seemed to come to some decision. He tore the letter to pieces, and threw the pieces out of the window that opens upon the garden.”

Mademoiselle Marguerite expressed herself with the utmost simplicity, and there was certainly nothing particularly extraordinary in her story. Still, those around her listened with breathless curiosity, as though they were expecting some startling revelation, so much does the human mind abhor that which is natural and incline to that which is mysterious.

Without seeming to notice the effect she had produced, and addressing herself to the physician alone, the girl continued: “After the letter was destroyed, M. de Chalusse seemed himself again. Coffee was served, and he afterward lighted a cigar as usual. However, he soon let it go out. I dared not disturb him by any remarks; but suddenly he said to me: ‘It’s strange, but I feel very uncomfortable.’ A moment passed, without either of us speaking, and then he added: ‘I am certainly not well. Will you do me the favor to go to my room for me? Here is the key of my escritoire; open it, and on the upper shelf you will find a small bottle which please bring to me.’ I noticed with some surprise that M. de Chalusse, who usually speaks very distinctly, stammered and hesitated considerably in making this request, but, unfortunately, I did not think much about it at the time. I did as he requested, and he poured eight or ten drops of the contents of the vial into a glass of water, and swallowed it.”

So intense was Dr. Jodon’s interest that he became himself again. He forgot to attitudinize. “And after that?” he asked, eagerly.

“After that, M. de Chalusse seemed to feel much better, and retired to his study as usual. I fancied that any annoyance the letter had caused him was forgotten; but I was wrong, for in the afternoon he sent a message, through Madame Leon, requesting me to join him in the garden. I hastened there, very much surprised, for the weather was extremely disagreeable. ‘Dear Marguerite,’ he said, on seeing me, ‘help me to find the fragments of that letter which I flung from the window this morning. I would give half my fortune for an address which it must certainly have contained, but which I quite overlooked in my anger.’ I helped him as he asked. He might have reasonably hoped to succeed, for it was raining when the scraps of paper were thrown out, and instead of flying through the air, they fell directly on to the ground. We succeeded in finding a large number of the scraps, but what M. de Chalusse so particularly wanted was not to be read on any one of them. Several times he spoke of his regret, and cursed his precipitation.”

M. Bourigeau, the concierge, and M. Casimir exchanged a significant smile. They had seen the count searching for the remnants of this letter, and had thought him little better than an idiot. But now everything was explained.

“I was much grieved at the count’s disappointment,” continued Mademoiselle Marguerite, “but suddenly he exclaimed, joyfully: ‘That address--why, such a person will give it to me--what a fool I am!’”

The physician evinced such absorbing interest in this narrative that he forgot to retain his usual impassive attitude. “Such a person! Who--who was this person?” he inquired eagerly, without apparently realizing the impropriety of his question.

But the girl felt indignant. She silenced her indiscreet questioner with a haughty glance, and in the driest possible tone, replied: “I have forgotten the name.”

Cut to the quick, the doctor suddenly resumed his master’s pose; but all the same his imperturbable sang-froid was sensibly impaired. “Believe me, mademoiselle, that interest alone--a most respectful interest--”

She did not even seem to hear his excuse, but resumed: “I know, however, monsieur, that M. de Chalusse intended applying to the police if he failed to obtain this address from the person in question. After this he appeared to be entirely at ease. At three o’clock he rang for his valet, and ordered dinner two hours earlier than usual. We sat down to table at about half-past four. At five he rose, kissed me gayly, and left the house on foot, telling me that he was confident of success, and that he did not expect to return before midnight.” The poor child’s firmness now gave way; her eyes filled with tears, and it was in a voice choked with sobs that she added, pointing to M. de Chalusse: “But at half-past six they brought him back as you see him now----”

An interval of silence ensued, so deep that one could hear the faint breathing of the unconscious man still lying motionless on his bed. However, the particulars of the attack were yet to be learned; and it was M. Casimir whom the physician next addressed. “What did the driver who brought your master home say to you?”

“Oh! almost nothing, sir; not ten words.”

“You must find this man and bring him to me.”

Two servants rushed out in search of him. He could not be far away, for his vehicle was still standing in the courtyard. They found him in a wine-shop near by. Some of the inquisitive spectators who had been disappointed in their curiosity by Casimir’s thoughtfulness had treated him to some liquor, and in exchange he had told them all he knew about the affair. He had quite recovered from his fright, and was cheerful, even gay.

“Come make haste, you are wanted,” said the servants.