Claude, touching the inspector, gently asked—
“Let me at least know why I am condemned to death. Why did you separate us?”
“I have already answered you: because I chose.”
With that he was about to lift the latch, when Claude raised the axe, and without one cry the inspector fell to the ground, with his skull completely cloven from three heavy blows dealt with the rapidity of lightning. A fourth completely disfigured his face, and Claude, in his mad fury, gave another and a useless blow, for the inspector was dead.
Claude, throwing the axe aside, cried out, “Now for the other.”
The other was himself, and taking the scissors, his wife’s, he plunged them into his breast; but the blade was short, and the chest was deep, and vainly he strove to give the fatal blow. At last, covered with blood, he fell fainting across the dead.
Which of the two would be considered the victim?
When Claude recovered consciousness he was in bed, surrounded by every care and covered with bandages. Near him were sisters of charity, and a recorder ready to take down his deposition, who with much interest inquired how he was.
Claude had lost a great deal of blood, but the scissors had done him a bad turn, inflicting wounds not one the least dangerous: the only mortal blows he had struck were on the body of Monsieur D——.
Then the interrogatory commenced.