The Châtelet Apprentice (31 page)

They went inside the stone monster. The enormous bulk of the fortress became more and more oppressive as its thick walls closed in around them. They might have belonged to some sick being whose symptoms were the discoloration and flaking of the skin. There was no interplay of light and shade; the two elements never mixed. Only a few shafts of daylight managed to pierce the darkness of the vaults, but they spread no further. The narrowness of the openings to the outside was such that these fleeting apparitions faded as swiftly as they had come. However, where for centuries they had struck the stone in the same place, its surface had taken on a whitish-blue tinge contrasting with the dull grey of other blocks nearby. But one's eye could not rest for long on these paler tints. Everywhere, in the corners, nooks and crannies and the dead-ends of this immense maze, strange damp mosses covered the main body of the prison like leprous sores. Coils of fungi hanging in the air like heavy spiders' webs used up the little oxygen there was in this confined atmosphere. Strange mineral concretions, grey verging on green, their sharp points glinting in the light of the lantern, betrayed the presence of saltpetre and salts that oozed from the limestone walls as a result of the constant humidity. It was slippery underfoot in the gloomy passageways, where the rotting, spongy ground, reminiscent of an underwater cave carpeted with seaweed, turned into mud. Everywhere was a dank, pervasive smell that was almost palpable, so oppressive that it was difficult to
breathe. It reminded Nicolas of the collegiate church in Guérande when on very rainy days it became a steaming crypt with water trickling down its granite stone walls, and it reeked of cold incense, damp and the clinging smell of decomposition that rose up from the ancient vaults.

To that was added the smell of dirt and grease from the head gaoler's grey twill coat. His gasping breaths and the sound of their footsteps were the only signs of humanity in this deserted place. After slowly turning the key several times, he eventually opened a heavy oak door reinforced with iron bands. Nicolas was surprised by the enormous size of the cell. The room was hexagonal with three steps that led down into it, adding to the impression of height. Three more steps at the opposite end led up to a narrow opening with thick bars. To the right was a bed on which Nicolas saw, to his surprise, white sheets and a drugget
2
blanket. They did not immediately notice Semacgus, who was hidden by the open door. As they entered they found him sitting at a small table practically inside the fireplace. He was writing, and the noise of the lock had apparently not disturbed his work. He called out in a bad-tempered voice:

‘Not before time! It's devilish cold in here and I was running out of wood.'

As there was no reply he turned round stiffly to discover a pensive Nicolas, a calm and collected Bourdeau and a deeply anxious gaoler.

He got up and went over to meet them.

‘Seeing you, my friends, makes me think I'm going to be taken out to be hanged!' he exclaimed.

‘It's a bit early to hang you,' said Nicolas, ‘but the purpose of our visit is to question you about some serious developments.'

‘For heaven's sake! It looks as if we're going to go over old ground again. Nicolas, you veer from one extreme to the other. Please make up your mind about me and spare me His Majesty's hospitality. I've been doing my sums and it's already cost me a fortune even though I haven't been locked up here for long. Four pounds and four sols for food, one pound for wine, forty sols for the wood that still hasn't come and, pardon me for the sordid details, one pound and two sols for the sheets and a chamber pot. The filthy piece of rag I had for a blanket when I arrived in this palace gave me a delightful rash that makes me scratch until I bleed. However, I mustn't complain. I'm lucky not to be sleeping on straw, but you must admit that it's hard on an innocent man to be deprived of his freedom and as I understand that I've been imprisoned by a
lettre de cachet
I fear that my case may never come to court and that I will rot here until the end of time.'

‘Our conversation will probably determine whether you are freed or not,' Nicolas replied curtly.

‘I prefer that word to interrogation. You always try a bit too hard, Nicolas. It's just lack of experience, because you're basically a good sort.'

‘That's probably because the clarity of your answers is not always what it should be.'

‘I'm not very fond of people speaking in riddles. There's always someone who gets eaten up in the end. Your tone is not very friendly, my dear Nicolas.'

‘Please remember, Monsieur, that at this moment you are dealing with a policeman.'

‘Very well,' sighed the surgeon.

Semacgus walked over to his straw-bottomed chair and sat
astride it as was his habit, with his arms on the back and his chin in his hands.

‘I would like to return with you to the events of that evening in the Dauphin Couronné,' Nicolas began.

‘But I've told you everything.'

‘It took two attempts. And what interests me now is the second part of the evening. One of the girls has said that you left her almost as soon as you went into her room. What time was it, as a matter of fact? Last time you wriggled your way out of the question.'

‘How should I know? Between midnight and one o'clock. I don't keep an eye on my watch all the time.'

‘At what time did you arrive at Rue des Blancs-Manteaux to meet Louise Lardin?'

‘When I didn't find my carriage or Saint-Louis, who was supposed to be waiting for me in Rue du Faubourg-
Saint-Honoré
, I went to look for a cab, which took me a good quarter of an hour. I must have reached Rue des Blancs-Manteaux at around two o'clock.'

‘Could you describe your arrival in detail?'

‘As I already told you, when Louise put a lighted candle in the window in her bedroom overlooking the street it meant that the coast was clear. However, that morning there was no candle and this time she was standing at the door wearing a mask and waiting to let me in herself. She had only just come back from a Carnival ball.'

‘So the whole family was having a good time!'

Bourdeau coughed and motioned to Nicolas that he would like to speak.

‘You said “this time”. What do you mean by that?'

‘That usually I went straight to her bedroom.'

‘So you have a key to the front door?'

‘That's not what I said.'

Bourdeau took a step forward and leant over towards the surgeon.

‘So what did you say? It's high time you stopped misleading justice, Monsieur. It can be good-natured, but it is fearsome when angry and it is pointing its finger at you.'

Semacgus looked at Nicolas, but the young man clearly nodded his approval of his deputy's words.

‘To tell you the truth, I came in through the monastery of the Blancs-Manteaux, through a garden gate. I hadn't mentioned it before because the detail didn't seem important. Louise had asked me to be discreet about this matter.'

‘The Blancs-Manteaux monastery?' roared Bourdeau. ‘What's that got to do with the Lardins?'

‘The cellars of the monastery link up with those of the house. During the day you can go in through the church, which is open. At night through the garden gate, which I have a key to. Then you go through a disused chapel, down into the cellar, under the street and back up into the vault of the pantry.'

‘And that particular morning?'

‘Louise explained to me that, because of the recent snowfall, it was wiser not to go the usual way. That was why she was waiting for me.'

‘Did that not surprise you? It was a rash thing to do.'

‘I should remind you that I had on a cape and mask and that I could have been mistaken for Lardin. Besides, it was a serious point because the commissioner could also come back via the monastery and notice the footprints in the snow.'

‘So Lardin knew about this passageway. Who else?'

‘In the household? No one. Neither Catherine, nor Marie nor Nicolas, even though he lived there, knew this secret. None of them had noticed it, I'm convinced of that.'

Nicolas did not reply. He let Bourdeau continue the
interrogation
. He owed him that, and he was not unhappy to be able to sit back and think without having to intervene.

‘Why did you repeatedly conceal this fact from us?'

‘It was the Lardins' secret and I'd given my word.'

‘Do you know, Monsieur, whether Commissioner Lardin realised that you were aware of this secret passage?'

‘He certainly did not.'

‘At what time did you leave, and by which route?'

‘At around six o'clock, as I already told Nicolas, and through the front door.'

‘By staying so long in the house, were you not taking the risk of being caught by her husband? Did you tell Madame Lardin about the commissioner's argument with Descart in the Dauphin Couronné?'

‘She had assured me that he would not come home that night, and that as a precaution she had bolted both the cellar and front doors from the inside. So even if Lardin turned up unexpectedly he would have had to use the knocker to be let in. She had even planned to justify this unusual precaution by saying she was frightened that wild groups of masked revellers might suddenly turn up. Occasionally some of them burst into people's houses and carry on with their silly pranks.'

‘But why block the passageway in the cellar? It was improbable if not almost inconceivable that revellers would
come in that way if it was supposed to be secret. Her husband would have commented on that.'

‘The fact that you have asked that question shows you know very little about women. Her aim was not to think about how odd it would be for revellers to come up through the cellar. Having the doors locked – as they most certainly were – made her feel quite secure. I don't see the use of picking up on contradictions she wasn't aware of herself. Besides, at the risk of being discourteous to the lady, at that particular moment her mind was on other things … You must excuse me for interrupting this civilised conversation but Phoebus is here to visit me.'

Semacgus rushed to the window and pressed his face to it. A ray of sunlight struck the wall at this spot and he took a sensual delight in its radiance.

‘It's the only moment of sunshine,' he explained. ‘I take advantage of it to treat my rash. I need a point of reference. What's the time? They took my watch away when I was admitted and the sun doesn't stay long enough for me to tell the time by it.'

Later Nicolas would remember having behaved like an automaton, driven by an irrepressible urge. He rummaged feverishly in his coat pocket and pulled out the packet of items found on Rapace. He took out the little brass watch and, as Bourdeau looked on intrigued, passed it to Semacgus without saying a word. The moment he took it he let out a scream and threw himself upon Nicolas, grabbing him by the shoulders.

‘Where did you find this watch? Tell me, I beg of you.'

‘Why do you ask?'

‘It so happens, my dear policeman, that I know this watch
very well. I bought it myself as a gift for Saint-Louis. He played with it like a child and never stopped marvelling at it every time it struck. And now you're showing it to me again. I repeat my question: where did you find it and where is Saint-Louis?'

‘Give me back that watch,' Nicolas said.

He went over to the window and examined the object closely. He was thinking so fast and so hard that he could hear his heart pounding. Everything was becoming clear. Why had he not realised before? And to think that this vital piece of evidence had been lying in his coat pocket and that he might not have thought of it, might have left it there and never have known. The little brass watch was broken and the hands were stuck at four minutes past midnight. So the range of possibilities was very narrow. Either the watch had already stopped, or it had been broken during some incident, or at a later time. If, contrary to what Bricart had said, Saint-Louis and not Lardin had been killed near his carriage, the watch might have been broken at the time of his murder. Now, if it had stopped at four minutes past midnight it was completely impossible – and there were plenty of witnesses – that Semacgus was responsible for the murder since he was at that very time at the Dauphin Couronné. Nicolas frantically ran through the consequences of this discovery.

Unaware that they already knew of it, Semacgus had just revealed to them the existence of the Blancs-Manteaux passageway, even if to an extent it had been forced out of him. It was true that confiding this information could also be an attempt to put them off the scent. Nicolas had learnt not to underestimate the navy surgeon's intelligence. Besides, the complexity of the murders of Lardin and Descart could lead to the most contradictory conclusions. He looked at Semacgus, who had sat
down again. The surgeon seemed strained and suddenly older. Nicolas felt an instinctive pity for him, but prevented himself from expressing it. He had one final card up his sleeve: he felt the bitter need to use it.

‘Semacgus, there's another very serious matter of which I must inform you. Commissioner Lardin's body was found this morning in the underground passage of Rue des
Blancs-Manteaux
, half eaten by rats. Louise Lardin expressly accuses you of having killed him. She claims he caught you playing your amorous games and the two of you had a fight.'

Semacgus raised his head. He looked pale and dejected.

‘The woman will spare me nothing,' he sighed. ‘I never saw Lardin that morning. I have nothing to do with his death. I'm telling you the truth. I feel as if I'm talking to the wall. You haven't answered my question. Where did you find this watch?'

‘In the pocket of a poor devil who, in addition, was in possession of your bloodstained carriage. We have to leave you, Semacgus. Have no fear: if you are innocent, justice will be yours. Bourdeau and I guarantee it.'