taircase of the
turret. The high, dark silhouette of Manette headed the procession; then
followed the justice, carefully choosing his foothold on the well-worn
stairs, the asthmatic old bailiff, breathing short and hard, the notary,
beating his foot impatiently every time that Seurrot stopped to take
breath, and finally the principal clerk and Claudet.
Manette, opening noiselessly the door of the deceased's room, entered,
as if it were a church, the somewhat stifling apartment. Then she threw
open the shutters, and the afternoon sun revealed an interior decorated
and furnished in the style of the close of the eighteenth century. An
inlaid secretary, with white marble top and copper fittings, stood near
the bed, of which the coverings had been removed, showing the mattresses
piled up under a down bed covered with blue-and-white check.
As soon as the door was closed, the clerk settled himself at the table
with his packet of stamped paper, and began to run over, in a low, rapid
voice, the preliminaries of the inventory. In this confused murmuring
some fragments of phrases would occasionally strike the ear: "Chateau
of Vivey--deceased the eighth of October last--at the requisition
of Marie-Julien de Buxieres, comptroller of direct contributions
at Nancy--styling himself heir to Claude Odouart de Buxieres, his
cousin-german by blood--"
This last phrase elicited from Claudet a sudden movement of surprise.
"The inventory," explained Maitre Arbillot, "is drawn up at the
requisition of the only heir named, to whom we must make application, if
necessary, for the property left by the deceased."
There was a moment of silence, interrupted by a plaintive sigh from
Manette Sejournant and afterward by the tearing sound of the sealed
bands across the bureau, the drawers and pigeonholes of which were
promptly ransacked by the justice and his assistant.
Odouart de Buxieres had not been much of a scribe. A double Liege
almanac, a memorandum-book, in which he had entered the money received
from the sale of his wood and the dates of the payments made by his
farmers; a daybook, in which he had made careful note of the number of
head of game killed each day--that was all the bureau contained.
"Let us examine another piece of furniture," murmured the justice.
Manette and Claudet remained unmoved. They apparently knew the reason
why none but insignificant papers had been found in the drawers, for
their features expressed neither
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