The Eight Strokes of the Clock by Maurice Le Blanc

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"He is innocent, sir," replied the young man, who seemed incapable of
giving the least explanation. "Innocent, I swear it. I've been Jacques'
friend for twenty years ... He is innocent ... and it would be
monstrous...."

There was nothing to be got out of him. Besides, it was only a short drive.
They entered Neuilly through the Porte des Sablons and, two minutes later,
stopped before a long, narrow passage between high walls which led them to
a small, one-storeyed house.

Gaston Dutreuil rang.

"Madame is in the drawing-room, with her mother," said the maid who opened
the door.

"I'll go in to the ladies," he said, taking Renine and Hortense with him.

It was a fair-sized, prettily-furnished room, which, in ordinary times,
must have been used also as a study. Two women sat weeping, one of whom,
elderly and grey-haired, came up to Gaston Dutreuil. He explained the
reason for Renine's presence and she at once cried, amid her sobs:

"My daughter's husband is innocent, sir. Jacques? A better man never lived.
He was so good-hearted! Murder his cousin? But he worshipped his cousin! I
swear that he's not guilty, sir! And they are going to commit the infamy of
putting him to death? Oh, sir, it will kill my daughter!"

Renine realized that all these people had been living for months under the
obsession of that innocence and in the certainty that an innocent man could
never be executed. The news of the execution, which was now inevitable, was
driving them mad.

He went up to a poor creature bent in two whose face, a quite young face,
framed in pretty, flaxen hair, was convulsed with desperate grief.
Hortense, who had already taken a seat beside her, gently drew her head
against her shoulder. Renine said to her:

"Madame, I do not know what I can do for you. But I give you my word of
honour that, if any one in this world can be of use to you, it is myself.
I therefore implore you to answer my questions as though the clear and
definite wording of your replies were able to alter the aspect of things
and as though you wished to make me share your opinion of Jacques Aubrieux.
For he is innocent, is he not?"

"Oh, sir, indeed he is!" she exclaimed; and the woman's whole soul was in
the words.

"You are certain of it. But you were unable to communicate your certainty
to the court. Well, you must now compel me to share it. I am not asking you
to go into details and to live again through the hideous torment which you
have suffered, but merely to answer certain questions. Will you do this?"

"I will."

Renine's influence over her was complete. With a few sentences Renine had
succeeded in subduing her and inspiring her with the will to obey. And once
more Hortense realized all the man's power, authority and persuasion.

"What was your husband?" he asked, after begging the mother and Gaston
Dutreuil to preserve absolute silence.

"An insurance-broker."

"Lucky in business?"

"Until last year, yes."

"So there have been financial difficulties during the past few months?"

"Yes."

"And the murder was committed when?"

"Last March, on a Sunday."

"Who was the victim?"

"A distant cousin, M. Guillaume, who lived at Suresnes."

"What was the sum stolen?"

"Sixty thousand-franc notes, which this cousin had received the day before,
in payment of a long-outstanding debt."

"Did your husband know that?"

"Yes. His cousin told him of it on the Sunday, in the course of a
conversation on the telephone, and Jacques insisted that his cousin ought
not to keep so large a sum in the house and that he ought to pay it into a
bank next day."

"Was this in the morning?"

"At one o'clock in the afternoon. Jacques was to have gone to M. Guillaume
on his motor-cycle. But he felt tired and told him that he would not go
out. So he remained here all day."

"Alone?"

"Yes. The two servants were out. I went to the Cinema des Ternes with my
mother and our friend Dutreuil. In the evening, we learnt that M. Guillaume
had been murdered. Next morning, Jacques was arrested."

"On what evidence?"

The poor creature hesitated to reply: the evidence of guilt had evidently
been overwhelming. Then, obeying a sign from Renine, she answered without
a pause:

"The murderer went to Suresnes on a motorcycle and the tracks discovered
were those of my husband's machine. They found a handkerchief with my
husband's initials; and the revolver which was used belonged to him.
Lastly, one of our neighbours maintains that he saw my husband go out
on his bicycle at three o'clock and another that he saw him come in at
half-past four. The murder was committed at four o'clock."

"And what does Jacques Aubrieux say in his defence?"

"He declares that he slept all the afternoon. During that time, some one
came who managed to unlock the cycle-shed and take the motor-cycle to go
to Suresnes. As for the handkerchief and the revolver, they were in the
tool-bag. There would be nothing surprising in the murderer's using them."

"It seems a plausible explanation."

"Yes, but the prosecution raised two objections. In the first place,
nobody, absolutely nobody, knew that my husband was going to stay at
home all day, because, on the contrary, it was his habit to go out on
his motor-cycle every Sunday afternoon."

"And the second objection?"

She flushed and murmured:

"The murderer went to the pantry at M. Guillaume's and drank half a bottle
of wine straight out of the bottle, which shows my husband's fingerprints."

It seemed as though her strength was exhausted and as though, at the same
time, the unconscious hope which Renine's intervention had awakened in her
had suddenly vanished before the accumulation of adverse facts. Again she
collapsed, withdrawn into a sort of silent meditation from which Hortense's
affectionate attentions were unable to distract her.

The mother stammered:

"He's not guilty, is he, sir? And they can't punish an innocent man. They
haven't the right to kill my daughter. Oh dear, oh dear, what have we done
to be tortured like this? My poor little Madeleine!"

"She will kill herself," said Dutreuil, in a scared voice. "She will never
be able to endure the idea that they are guillotining Jacques. She will
kill herself presently ... this very night...."

Renine was striding up and down the room.

"You can do nothing for her, can you?" asked Hortense.

"It's half-past eleven now," he replied, in an anxious tone, "and it's to
happen to-morrow morning."

"Do you think he's guilty?"

"I don't know.... I don't know.... The poor woman's conviction is too
impressive to be neglected. When two people have lived together for years,
they can hardly be mistaken about each other to that degree. And yet...."

He stretched himself out on a sofa and lit a cigarette. He smoked three in
succession, without a word from any one to interrupt his train of thought.
From time to time he looked at his watch. Every minute was of such
importance!

At last he went back to Madeleine Aubrieux, took her hands and said, very
gently:

"You must not kill yourself. There is hope left until the last minute has
come; and I promise you that, for my part, I will not be disheartened until
that last minute. But I need your calmness and your confidence."

"I will be calm," she said, with a pitiable air.

"And confident?"

"And confident."

"Well, wait for me. I shall be back in two hours from now. Will you come
with us, M. Dutreuil?"

As they were stepping into his car, he asked the young man:

"Do you know any small, unfrequented restaurant, not too far inside Paris?"

"There's the Brasserie Lutetia, on the ground-floor of the house in which I
live, on the Place des Ternes."

"Capital. That will be very handy."

They scarcely spoke on the way. Renine, however, said to Gaston Dutreuil:

"So far as I remember, the numbers of the notes are known, aren't they?"

"Yes. M. Guillaume had entered the sixty numbers in his pocket-book."

Renine muttered, a moment later:

"That's where the whole problem lies. Where are the notes? If we could lay
our hands on them, we should know everything."

At the Brasserie Lutetia there was a telephone in the private room where
he asked to have lunch served. When the waiter had left him alone with
Hortense and Dutreuil, he took down the receiver with a resolute air:

"Hullo!... Prefecture of police, please.... Hullo! Hullo!... Is that the
Prefecture of police? Please put me on to the criminal investigation
department. I have a very important communication to make. You can say it's
Prince Renine."

Holding the receiver in his hand, he turned to Gaston Dutreuil:

"I can ask some one to come here, I suppose? We shall be quite
undisturbed?"

"Quite."

He listened again:

"The secretary to the head of the criminal investigation department? Oh,
excellent! Mr. Secretary, I have on several occasions been in communication
with M. Dudouis and have given him information which has been of great use
to him. He is sure to remember Prince Renine. I may be able to-day to show
him where the sixty thousand-franc notes are hidden which Aubrieux the
murderer stole from his cousin. If he's interested in the proposal, beg him
to send an inspector to the Brasserie Lutetia, Place des Ternes. I shall
be there with a lady and M. Dutreuil, Aubrieux's friend. Good day, Mr.
Secretary."

When Renine hung up the instrument, he saw the amazed faces of Hortense and
of Gaston Dutreuil confronting him.

Hortense whispered:

"Then you know? You've discovered ...?"

"Nothing," he said, laughing.

"Well?"

"Well, I'm acting as though I knew. It's not a bad method. Let's have some
lunch, shall we?"

The clock marked a quarter to one.

"The man from the prefecture will be here," he said, "in twenty minutes at
latest."

"And if no one comes?" Hortense objected.

"That would surprise me. Of course, if I had sent a message to M. Dudouis
saying, 'Aubrieux is innocent,' I should have failed to make any
impression. It's not the least use, on the eve of an execution, to attempt
to convince the gentry of the police or of the law that a man condemned
to death is innocent. No. From henceforth Jacques Aubrieux belongs to
the executioner. But the prospect of securing the sixty bank-notes is a
windfall worth taking a little trouble over. Just think: that was the
weak point in the indictment, those sixty notes which they were unable
to trace."

"But, as you know nothing of their whereabouts...."

"My dear girl--I hope you don't mind my calling you so?--my dear girl, when
a man can't explain this or that physical phenomenon, he adopts some sort
of theory which explains the various manifestations of the phenomenon and
says that everything happened as though the theory were correct. That's
what I am doing."

"That amounts to saying that you are going upon a supposition?"

Renine did not reply. Not until some time later, when lunch was over, did
he say:

"Obviously I am going upon a supposition. If I had several days before me,
I should take the trouble of first verifying my theory, which is based upon
intuition quite as much as upon a few scattered facts. But I have only two
hours; and I am embarking on the unknown path as though I were certain that
it would lead me to the truth."

"And suppose you are wrong?"

"I have no choice. Besides, it is too late. There's a knock. Oh, one word
more! Whatever I may say, don't contradict me. Nor you, M. Dutreuil."

He opened the door. A thin man, with a red imperial, entered:

"Prince Renine?"

"Yes, sir. You, of course, are from M. Dudouis?"

"Yes."

And the newcomer gave his name:

"Chief-inspector Morisseau."

"I am obliged to you for coming so promptly, Mr. Chief-inspector," said
Prince Renine, "and I hope that M. Dudouis will not regret having placed
you at my disposal."

"At your entire disposal, in addition to two inspectors whom I have left in
the square outside and who have been in the case, with me, from the first."

"I shall not detain you for any length of time," said Renine, "and I will
not even ask you to sit down. We have only a few minutes in which to settle
everything. You know what it's all about?"

"The sixty thousand-franc notes stolen from M. Guillaume. I have the
numbers here."

Renine ran his eyes down the slip of paper which the chief-inspector handed
him and said:

"That's right. The two lists agree."

Inspector Morisseau seemed greatly excited:

"The chief attaches the greatest importance to your discovery. So you will
be able to show me?..."

Renine was silent for a moment and then declared:

"Mr. Chief-inspector, a personal investigation--and a most exhaustive
investigation it was, as I will explain to you presently--has revealed
the fact that, on his return from Suresnes, the murderer, after replacing
the motor-cycle in the shed in the Avenue du Roule, ran to the Ternes and
entered this house."

"This house?"

"Yes."

"But what did he come here for?"

"To hide the proceeds of his theft, the sixty bank-notes."

"How do you mean? Where?"

"In a flat of which he had the key, on the fifth floor."

Gaston Dutreuil exclaimed, in amazement:

"But there's only one flat on the fifth floor and that's the one I live
in!"

"Exactly; and, as you were at the cinema with Madame Aubrieux and her
mother, advantage was taken of your absence...."

"Impossible! No one has the key except myself."

"One can get in without a key."

"But I have seen no marks of any kind."

Morisseau intervened:

"Come, let us understand one another. You say the bank-notes were hidden in
M. Dutreuil's flat?"

"Yes."

"Then, as Jacques Aubrieux was arrested the next morning, the notes ought
to be there still?"

"That's my opinion."

Gaston Dutreuil could not help laughing:

"But that's absurd! I should have found them!"

"Did you look for them?"

"No. But I should have come across them at any moment. The place isn't big
enough to swing a cat in. Would you care to see it?"

"However small it may be, it's large enough to hold sixty bits of paper."

"Of course, everything is possible," said Dutreuil. "Still, I must repeat
that nobody, to my knowledge, has been to my rooms; that there is only one
key; that I am my own housekeeper; and that I can't quite understand...."

Hortense too could not understand. With her eyes fixed on Prince Renine's,
she was trying to read his innermost thoughts. What game was he playing?
Was it her duty to support his statements? She ended by saying:

"Mr. Chief-inspector, since Prince Renine maintains that the notes have
been put away upstairs, wouldn't the simplest thing be to go and look? M.
Dutreuil will take us up, won't you?"

"This minute," said the young man. "As you say, that will be simplest."

They all four climbed the five storys of the house and, after Dutreuil
had opened the door, entered a tiny set of chambers consisting of a
sitting-room, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom, all arranged with fastidious
neatness. It was easy to see that every chair in the sitting-room occupied
a definite place. The pipes had a rack to themselves; so had the matches.
Three walking-sticks, arranged according to their length, hung from
three nails. On a little table before the window a hat-box, filled with
tissue-paper, awaited the felt hat which Dutreuil carefully placed in it.
He laid his gloves beside it, on the lid.

He did all this with sedate and mechanical movements, like a man who loves
to see things in the places which he has chosen for them. Indeed, no sooner
did Renine shift something than Dutreuil made a slight gesture of protest,
took out his hat again, stuck it on his head, opened the window and rested
his elbows on the sill, with his back turned to the room, as though he were
unable to bear the sight of such vandalism.

"You're positive, are you not?" the inspector asked Renine.

"Yes, yes, I'm positive that the sixty notes were brought here after the
murder."

"Let's look for them."

This was easy and soon done. In half an hour, not a corner remained
unexplored, not a knick-knack unlifted.

"Nothing," said Inspector Morisseau. "Shall we continue?"

"No," replied Renine, "The notes are no longer here."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that they have been removed."

"By whom? Can't you make a more definite accusation?"

Renine did not reply. But Gaston Dutreuil wheeled round. He was choking
and spluttered:

"Mr. Inspector, would you like _me_ to make the accusation more
definite, as conveyed by this gentleman's remarks? It all means that
there's a dishonest man here, that the notes hidden by the murderer were
discovered and stolen by that dishonest man and deposited in another and
safer place. That is your idea, sir, is it not? And you accuse me of
committing this theft don't you?"

He came forward, drumming his chest with his fists: "Me! Me! I found the
notes, did I, and kept them for myself? You dare to suggest that!"

Renine still made no reply. Dutreuil flew into a rage and, taking Inspector
Morisseau aside, exclaimed:

"Mr. Inspector, I strongly protest against all this farce and against
the part which you are unconsciously playing in it. Before your arrival,
Prince Renine told this lady and myself that he knew nothing, that he was
venturing into this affair at random and that he was following the first
road that offered, trusting to luck. Do you deny it, sir?"

Renine did not open his lips.

"Answer me, will you? Explain yourself; for, really, you are putting
forward the most improbable facts without any proof whatever. It's easy
enough to say that I stole the notes. And how were you to know that they
were here at all? Who brought them here? Why should the murderer choose
this flat to hide them in? It's all so stupid, so illogical and absurd!...
Give us your proofs, sir ... one single proof!"

Inspector Morisseau seemed perplexed. He questioned Renine with a glance.
Renine said:

"Since you want specific details, we will get them from Madame Aubrieux
herself. She's on the telephone. Let's go downstairs. We shall know all
about it in a minute."

Dutreuil shrugged his shoulders:

"As you please; but what a waste of time!"

He seemed greatly irritated. His long wait at the window, under a blazing
sun, had thrown him into a sweat. He went to his bedroom and returned with
a bottle of water, of which he took a few sips, afterwards placing the
bottle on the window-sill:

"Come along," he said.

Prince Renine chuckled.

"You seem to be in a hurry to leave the place."

"I'm in a hurry to show you up," retorted Dutreuil, slamming the door.

They went downstairs to the private room containing the telephone. The room
was empty. Renine asked Gaston Dutreuil for the Aubrieuxs' number, took
down the instrument and was put through.

The maid who came to the telephone answered that Madame Aubrieux had
fainted, after giving way to an access of despair, and that she was now
asleep.

"Fetch her mother, please. Prince Renine speaking. It's urgent."

He handed the second receiver to Morisseau. For that matter, the voices
were so distinct that Dutreuil and Hortense were able to hear every word
exchanged.

"Is that you, madame?"

"Yes. Prince Renine, I believe?"

"Prince Renine."

"Oh, sir, what news have you for me? Is there any hope?" asked the old
lady, in a tone of entreaty.

"The enquiry is proceeding very satisfactorily," said Renine, "and you
may hope for the best. For the moment, I want you to give me some very
important particulars. On the day of the murder, did Gaston Dutreuil come
to your house?"

"Yes, he came to fetch my daughter and myself, after lunch."

"Did he know at the time that M. Guillaume had sixty thousand francs at his
place?"

"Yes, I told him."

"And that Jacques Aubrieux was not feeling very well and was proposing not
to take his usual cycle-ride but to stay at home and sleep?"

"Yes."

"You are sure?"

"Absolutely certain."

"And you all three went to the cinema together?"

"Yes."

"And you were all sitting together?"

"Oh, no! There was no room. He took a seat farther away."

"A seat where you could see him?"

"No."

"But he came to you during the interval?"

"No, we did not see him until we were going out."

"There is no doubt of that?"

"None at all."

"Very well, madame. I will tell you the result of my efforts in an hour's
time. But above all, don't wake up Madame Aubrieux."

"And suppose she wakes of her own accord?"

"Reassure her and give her confidence. Everything is going well, very well
indeed."

He hung up the receiver and turned to Dutreuil, laughing:

"Ha, ha, my boy! Things are beginning to look clearer. What do you say?"

It was difficult to tell what these words meant or what conclusions Renine
had drawn from his conversation. The silence was painful and oppressive.

"Mr. Chief-Inspector, you have some of your men outside, haven't you?"

"Two detective-sergeants."

"It's important that they should be there. Please also ask the manager not
to disturb us on any account."

And, when Morisseau returned, Renine closed the door, took his stand in
front of Dutreuil and, speaking in a good-humoured but emphatic tone, said:

"It amounts to this, young man, that the ladies saw nothing of you between
three and five o'clock on that Sunday. That's rather a curious detail."

"A perfectly natural detail," Dutreuil retorted, "and one, moreover, which
proves nothing at all."

"It proves, young man, that you had a good two hours at your disposal."

"Obviously. Two hours which I spent at the cinema."

"Or somewhere else."

Dutreuil looked at him:

"Somewhere else?"

"Yes. As you were free, you had plenty of time to go wherever you liked ...
to Suresnes, for instance."

"Oh!" said the young man, jesting in his turn. "Suresnes is a long way
off!"

"It's quite close! Hadn't you your friend Jacques Aubrieux's motor-cycle?"

A fresh pause followed these words. Dutreuil had knitted his brows as
though he were trying to understand. At last he was heard to whisper:

"So that is what he was trying to lead up to!... The brute!..."

Renine brought down his hand on Dutreuil's shoulder:

"No more talk! Facts! Gaston Dutreuil, you are the only person who on that
day knew two essential things: first, that Cousin Guillaume had sixty
thousand francs in his house; secondly, that Jacques Aubrieux was not
going out. You at once saw your chance. The motor-cycle was available. You
slipped out during the performance. You went to Suresnes. You killed Cousin
Guillaume. You took the sixty bank-notes and left them at your rooms. And
at five o'clock you went back to fetch the ladies."

Dutreuil had listened with an expression at once mocking and flurried,
casting an occasional glance at Inspector Morisseau as though to enlist
him as a witness:

"The man's mad," it seemed to say. "It's no use being angry with him."

When Renine had finished, he began to laugh:

"Very funny!... A capital joke!... So it was I whom the neighbours saw
going and returning on the motor-cycle?"

"It was you disguised in Jacques Aubrieux's clothes."

"And it was my finger-prints that were found on the bottle in M.
Guillaume's pantry?"

"The bottle had been opened by Jacques Aubrieux at lunch, in his own house,
and it was you who took it with you to serve as evidence."

"Funnier and funnier!" cried Dutreuil, who had the air of being frankly
amused. "Then I contrived the whole affair so that Jacques Aubrieux might
be accused of the crime?"

"It was the safest means of not being accused yourself."

"Yes, but Jacques is a friend whom I have known from childhood."

"You're in love with his wife."

The young man gave a sudden, infuriated start:

"You dare!... What! You dare make such an infamous suggestion?"

"I have proof of it."

"That's a lie! I have always respected Madeleine Aubrieux and revered
her...."

"Apparently. But you're in love with her. You desire her. Don't contradict
me. I have abundant proof of it."

"That's a lie, I tell you! You have only known me a few hours!"

"Come, come! I've been quietly watching you for days, waiting for the
moment to pounce upon you."

He took the young man by the shoulders and shook him:

"Come, Dutreuil, confess! I hold all the proofs in my hand. I have
witnesses whom we shall meet presently at the criminal investigation
department. Confess, can't you? In spite of everything, you're tortured
by remorse. Remember your dismay, at the restaurant, when you had seen
the newspaper. What? Jacques Aubrieux condemned to die? That's more than
you bargained for! Penal servitude would have suited your book; but the
scaffold!... Jacques Aubrieux executed to-morrow, an innocent man!...
Confess, won't you? Confess to save your own skin! Own up!"

Bending over the other, he was trying with all his might to extort a
confession from him. But Dutreuil drew himself up and coldly, with a sort
of scorn in his voice, said:

"Sir, you are a madman. Not a word that you have said has any sense in it.
All your accusations are false. What about the bank-notes? Did you find
them at my place as you said you would?"

Renine, exasperated, clenched his fist in his face:

"Oh, you swine, I'll dish you yet, I swear I will!"

He drew the inspector aside:

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