The Widow Lerouge (Murder Mystery). Emile Gaboriau
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old fellow, who was in haste to depart. “Alas! my poor boy, what worry you have had!”
“Terrible! and, in addition, I have pecuniary embarrassments.”
“How! you who spend nothing?”
“I have entered into various engagements. Can I now make use of Madame Gerdy’s fortune, which I have hitherto used as my own? I think not.”
“You certainly ought not to. But listen! I am glad you have spoken of this; you can render me a service.
“Very willingly. What is it?”
“I have, locked up in my secretary, twelve or fifteen thousand francs, which trouble me exceedingly. You see, I am old, and not very brave, if any one heard I had this money —”
“I fear I cannot —” commenced the advocate.
“Nonsense!” said the old fellow. “To-morrow I will give them to you to take care of.” But remembering he was about to put himself at M. Daburon’s disposal, and that perhaps he might not be free on the morrow, he quickly added, “No, not tomorrow; but this very evening. This infernal money shall not remain another night in my keeping.”
He hurried out, and presently reappeared, holding in his hand fifteen notes of a thousand francs each. “If that is not sufficient,” said he, handing them to Noel, “you can have more.”
“Anyhow,” replied the advocate, “I will give you a receipt for these.”
“Oh! never mind. Time enough tomorrow.”
“And if I die to-night?”
“Then,” said the old fellow to himself, thinking of his will, “I shall still be your debtor. Good-night!” added he aloud. “You have asked my advice, I shall require the night for reflection. At present my brain is whirling; I must go into the air. If I go to bed now, I am sure to have a horrible nightmare. Come, my boy; patience and courage. Who knows whether at this very hour Providence is not working for you?”
He went out, and Noel, leaving his door open, listened to the sound of his footsteps as he descended the stairs. Almost immediately the cry of, “Open, if you please,” and the banging of the door apprised him that M. Tabaret had gone out. He waited a few minutes and refilled his lamp. Then he took a small packet from one of his bureau drawers, slipped into his pocket the bank notes lent him by his old friend, and left his study, the door of which he double-locked. On reaching the landing, he paused. He listened intently as though the sound of Madame Gerdy’s moans could reach him where he stood. Hearing nothing, he descended the stairs on tiptoe. A minute later, he was in the street.
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