For the King Read Online Free PDF Page A

The man paused. “Actually she is not widowed. She divorced her husband. On grounds of insanity.”
    “Very sad indeed. Please tell me about the explosion. What time was it exactly?”
    “We left the Palais-Egalité shortly after eight o’clock, so it must have been ten or fifteen past the hour. There was that dreadful noise. Then, when I came to my senses, Citizen Lystère was no longer there. What happened to her?”
    “Did you notice anything unusual before the explosion?”
    “Yes, we had passed a cart stopped in an awkward manner, midway down Rue Nicaise. You could say it blocked the traffic, and we had to walk around it. It was covered, down to the hubs of the wheels, with a gray tarpaulin. And a girl was holding the bridle of the horse.”
    “A girl? Are you sure?”
    “Quite sure. I remember her skirt, with blue and white stripes. And she wore a blue kerchief on her head. I didn’t see her face, for she had turned away.”
    “Did you notice the plate number of that cart?”
    “I didn’t pay attention to it. I guess it was covered by the tarpaulin.”
    “Anything else unusual, Captain?”
    “I saw a man standing at the corner of Place du Carrousel, a dozen yards ahead of us, just before the explosion. He wore a loose blue jacket, of the kind worn by stallholders. But he didn’t look like a stallholder. I caught a glimpse of the gold frame of his spectacles in the light of a lamppost. He had a distinguished bearing, like a former aristocrat. I paid attention to him because I was surprised to see such a man dressed in this manner.”
    “How would you describe that man?”
    “Rather tall, slender. Long face, long nose.”
    “What about the color of his hair? His eyes? His complexion?”
    “He wore a cap, low on his forehead. That is all I can tell you. It was dark. I wouldn’t even have noticed the man at all but for his spectacles.”
    “So apart from the girl in the striped skirt, did you notice anyone around the cart?”
    “No, no one in particular. The street was busy.” Captain Platel drew a sharp breath and winced. “I am sorry,” he said. “When you think I narrowly escaped having my leg amputated after the battle of the Pyramids. And now this . . . The surgeons here haven’t told me yet what they intend to do, but it’s all too easy to guess.” He hesitated. “What about Madame Lystère? She is so brave, trying her best to earn a bit of money. She gives English and piano lessons to support her infirm mother and her three little children.”
    And you too , thought Roch. Then he chided himself. Captain Platel did not look like a vicious man. Maybe he had loved Citizen Lystère. Maybe he had been kind to her, to her mother and children. Maybe he would have paid her the back rent as soon as his pension arrived at last. Who was Roch to pass judgment on that pitiful little happiness, now that it was all over?
    “So you don’t know anything about Citizen Lystère?” insisted Platel. “She was on my arm at the time of the explosion.”
    “She must have been sent to another hospital. We will track her down, I am sure. You have been most helpful. You should take some rest now.”
    Roch was in no mood to tell the truth. In fact, the name of Citizen Lystère was written down in his booklet. He had seen her body at the police station among the other corpses. She seemed asleep, and her pretty dress, brown with white dots, was not even soiled. Roch hoped she had met a quick and painless end.

5
    F ouché, Minister of Police, was still at his desk when an usher handed him Roch Miquel’s note. He pursed his lips as he read on. He called back the man just before he had reached the door of the office.
    “Order my carriage, please. Right away.”
    Not a word from the Prefect about the attack, of course. The scheming imbecile would no doubt wait until the next day to send him a detailed report. Fouché walked to the mirror above the red marble fireplace and pulled a horn comb from his coat pocket.