M. Plantat appeared to be unconscious of the detective's searching look.
"I know that Sauvresy's body was not cold," said he, "before his murderers began to threaten each other with death."
"Unhappily for them," observed Dr. Gendron, "Sauvresy had foreseen the probability of his widow's using up the rest of the vial of poison."
"Ah, he was shrewd," said M. Lecoq, in a tone of conviction, "very shrewd."
"Bertha could not pardon Hector," continued M. Plantat, "for refusing to take the revolver and blow his brains out; Sauvresy, you see, had foreseen that. Bertha thought that if her lover were dead, her husband would have forgotten all; and it is impossible to tell whether she was mistaken or not."
"And nobody knew anything of this horrible struggle that was going on in the house?"
"No one ever suspected anything."
"It's marvellous!"
"Say, Monsieur Lecoq, that is scarcely credible. Never was dissimulation so crafty, and above all, so wonderfully sustained. If you should question the first person you met in Orcival, he would tell you, as our worthy Courtois this morning told Monsieur Domini, that the count and countess were a model pair and adored each other. Why I, who knew—or suspected, I should say—what had passed, was deceived myself."
Promptly as M. Plantat had corrected himself, his slip of the tongue did not escape M. Lecoq.