“And who was no other than the man who was killed?”
“Wait. Having obtained this information, I get some one to take me to the wine-shop; and I ask for the coachman and the footman from Brion’s. They were there still; and they are shown to me in a private room, lying on the floor, fast asleep. I try to wake them up, but in vain. I order to water them freely; but a pitcher of water thrown on their faces has no effect, save to make them utter an inarticulate groan. I guess at once what they have taken. I send for a physician, and I call on the wine-merchant for explanations. It is his wife and his barkeeper who answer me. They tell me, that, at about two o’clock, a man came in the shop, who stated that he was employed at Brion’s, and who ordered three glasses for himself and two comrades, whom he was expecting.
“A few moments later, a carriage stops at the door; and the driver and the footman leave it to come in. They were in a great hurry, they said, and only wished to take one glass. They do take three, one after another; then they order a bottle. They were evidently forgetting their horses, which they had given to hold to a commissionaire. Soon the man proposes a game. The others accept; and here they are, settled in the back-room, knocking on the table for sealed wine. The game must have lasted at least twenty minutes. At the end of that time, the man who had come in first appeared, looking very much annoyed, saying that it was very unpleasant, that his comrades were dead drunk, that they will miss their work, and that the boss, who is anxious to please his customers, will certainly dismiss them. Although he had taken as much, and more than the rest, he was perfectly steady; and, after reflecting for a moment,—’I have an idea,’ he says. ’Friends should help each other, shouldn’t they? I am going to take the coachman’s livery, and drive in his stead. I happen to know the customer they were going after. She is a very kind old lady, and I’ll tell her a story to explain the absence of the footman.’
“Convinced that the man is in Brion’s employment, they have no objection to offer to this fine project.
“The brigand puts on the livery of the sleeping coachman, gets up on the box, and starts off, after stating that he will return for his comrades as soon as he has got through the job, and that doubtless they will be sober by that time.”
M. de Tregars knew well enough the savoir-faire of the commissary not to be surprised at his promptness in obtaining precise information.
Already he was going on,
“Just as I was closing my examination, the doctor arrived. I show him my drunkards; and at once he recognizes that I have guessed correctly, and that these men have been put asleep by means of one of those narcotics of which certain thieves make use to rob their victims. A potion, which he administers to them by forcing their teeth open with a knife, draws them from this lethargy. They open their eyes, and soon are in condition to reply to my questions. They are furious at the trick that has been played upon them; but they do not know the man. They saw him, they swear to me, for the first time that very morning; and they are ignorant even of his name.”