"The next three days--I never went through such a crazy
performance--enough to drive a man out of his mind. The music-teacher I
told you about took Marise off with her, up to the mountains somewhere
where her old home was, until the day of the funeral. I don't know how I
could have managed without that. I _couldn't_ have had Marise around,
while I was trying to hush up the coroner's men, or whoever they were.
"As soon as I got in touch with the dead boy's family, I found out where
a lot of the trouble came from. The police had come down from Saint
Sauveur, just as a matter of routine, to go through the motions of an
investigation and had gone to where we lived, because they thought Flora
was there. But she'd gone to the convent, so they saw our old cook and
asked her a lot of questions. And Jeanne, instead of telling the truth,
which was that she didn't know a thing about it, saw a chance for some
tall and fancy lying such as she made a specialty of. She got off a long
story about how she'd met the boy on his way to the train, and he'd told
her he was going on business, and Marise had asked him to take a message
to her mother, and he'd said her mother didn't know him by sight--oh,
God knows what! I take it she thought she was safe-guarding the family
honor, by making out that Flora didn't know the young man, but she
certainly got everything tied up into knots. She'd beat it off to tell
the dead boy's family what she'd told the police, so their lies would be
of the same color as hers. Oh, it was the damnedest mix-up! Of course
they were all set to do their share of lying. They wanted as much as I
did to keep the police out of it. Jeanne had beat them to it, and so
they repeated her version rather than start something new. But
naturally, rattled as they were with the suddenness of it, they didn't
get it exactly straight, and that started the police off on an idea they
hadn't had before, that maybe there was something more in it than met
the eye. They asked some other questions around in Bayonne, and then it
was all up.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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