[CHAPTER XVI]
PIERRE VOIRBO
The case of Pierre Voirbo, the murderer of Désiré Bodasse, an old man who had been his friend, is one of the most remarkable of French crimes. It established the reputation of Macé, the famous detective, who devoted a book to explaining how he succeeded in tracing the murderer from the first clue—a pair of human legs—to the last, when, by a simple experiment, he located the very spot where the murder had been committed. If Macé had not been an exceedingly clever man Voirbo must have escaped, for he took every precaution to cover up his tracks, and was undoubtedly assisted by luck. But the strong arm of the law triumphed in the end.
Voirbo was by trade a tailor, and by inclination a devotee of pleasure. He worked when he felt inclined, and if he could borrow or steal he preferred either as a source of income to the small profits derived from the making and repairing of clothes. He frequented low-class cafés, and gambled whenever he could, and, in addition, he had a pretty taste in wines. Yet for all his laziness and dissipation it was often remarked that Pierre Voirbo seemed never to be without money. He neglected his work until customers became few and far between, but he was never behindhand with his rent, and he could afford to employ an old woman to keep his rooms tidy.
The time came, however, when Voirbo thought of marriage. The hero of many conquests, he had not really been attracted by the opposite sex until he met a good-looking girl with a dowry of fifteen thousand francs. Then he found the good looks and the dowry irresistible attractions. He considered himself not wanting in appearance and ability, though he was actually below the medium height, had black hair and eyes, and a thin, cruel mouth. Eyes and mouth bore witness to his dissipation, but the girl evidently was blinded by love, for she agreed to marry Voirbo. When her parents were told they gave their consent on the condition that the bridegroom-to-be brought into the marriage settlements at least ten thousand francs. Voirbo instantly expressed his ability to provide that amount, and he was thereupon formally acknowledged to be the girl's fiancé by her parents, who did not know that, so far from being in possession of ten thousand francs, the tailor owed many thousands already, and had not a hundred francs to call his own. Voirbo, however, believed that he would be able to raise the money. Penury had sharpened his wits and endowed him with self-confidence.
A vague idea now occurred to him of borrowing the money, exhibiting it to the girl's parents, and then returning it when he got his hands on his wife's dot. It was a pretty scheme, but its weak point was that, owing to his reputation, there was no one in the country who would lend him a franc, and after a little consideration he abandoned the scheme.
But he was determined to have the girl's marriage dot no matter what the cost. Fifteen thousand francs meant a fortune to him. It would last a long time, and when it was gone it would be quite easy to desert his bride, and seek another elsewhere. It was, indeed, a pretty plan he conceived, though he knew that the first obstacle—raising that sum of ten thousand francs—would prove the most difficult of all.
Amongst his friends was an old man, Désiré Bodasse, a worker in tapestry, who had been Voirbo's companion in more than one midnight spree. Bodasse, however, had never opened his purse to pay. It was Voirbo who always paid for their food and drink, the spindle-legged little man, with the dry cough, chuckling to himself as he saw the young fool throw his money away. Bodasse boasted that for every franc he spent he saved three, and he naturally despised anyone who spent his money on others. Voirbo, however, had taken a fancy to Bodasse, and was very often seen in his society, while everybody marvelled at the strange partnership between two men who were so dissimilar.
It was to Désiré Bodasse that Voirbo went with the story that he must raise ten thousand francs at once. The younger man painted a glowing picture of the wealth of his future wife exaggerating her fifteen thousand francs until it became a dot four times as great. Bodasse listened with a thin smile on his thinner face, and when Voirbo's outburst was over congratulated him sarcastically.
The tailor ignored the sarcasm, and, after a pause, boldly asked Bodasse to lend him ten thousand francs. He knew that the old fellow had that sum and more in the box under his bed, for Bodasse had been saving for years, and was a rich man, and, Voirbo argued, the time had come when Bodasse could show that he was not ungrateful for the entertainment he had enjoyed for years at his expense.