“And what was M. Darzac saying all this time? What was his opinion?”
“He repeated: ‘What Mme. Darzac says is right. She must be obeyed implicitly.’ His shirt was torn and he had a slight wound in his throat, but it did not seem to bother him at all, and, indeed, there was only one thing in which he seemed interested, and that was as to how the miserable wretch had gotten into his rooms. I told him what I have told you—that he could not have entered without my seeing him, and I told him just how I had passed every moment of my time. His first words on the subject had been: ‘But when I came in a little while ago, there was no one in my room and I shut and bolted the door.’”
“Where did this conversation take place?”
“In the lodge, in the presence of my wife, who was nearly frightened to death, poor thing!”
“And the body? Where was that?”
“It lay in the sleeping room of M. Darzac.”
“And how was it decided that it should be disposed of?”
“I can’t say as to that for certain, but their resolution was taken, for Mme. Darzac said to me: ‘Bernier, I am going to ask of you one last service: go and bring the English cart from the stable and harness Toby to it. Don’t waken Walter, if you can help it. If you wake him and he asks for any explanations, say this to him and also to Mattoni, who has the watch at the postern: “It is for M. Darzac, who must be at Castelar at four o’clock in the morning to see the tournament in the Alps.”’ Mme. Darzac said also: ‘If you meet M. Sainclair, bring him to me, but if you meet M. Rouletabille, say nothing to him and do nothing that may attract his attention.’ Ah, Monsieur! Madame did not let me go out until the window of your room was closed and your light extinguished! And, then, we were not entirely certain in regard to the body which we believed to be dead, before it sighed once more—and, my God! what a sigh! The rest, Monsieur, you saw for yourself and now you know as much as I. God help us!”
When Bernier had finished relating this incredible story, Rouletabille put his hand on his arm, thanking him most earnestly for his great devotion to his master and mistress, and begged him to use the utmost discretion. The young reporter entreated the old servant to pardon his roughness and ordered him to say nothing to Mme. Darzac of anything that had passed between them. Bernier extended his hand in token of fidelity, but Rouletabille drew back:
“No—I can’t, Bernier! You are covered with blood.”