“Captain Lacey has come to talk, that is all,” Vernet said sternly. “I advise you to be truthful with him. I will return in a quarter of an hour, Captain. The only way out is the stairs, and I have many men between here and there.”
“I assure you, I have no intention of absconding with him,” I answered.
“Good. I would hate to have to shoot you. A quarter hour.” Vernet gave us both a warning glare then backed out of the door and closed it. Claude flinched as the key turned in the lock.
I’d met Claude Devere during our tour of the ironworks, which I now realized had been carefully orchestrated. Claude was about the same age as Emile and resembled his cousin with his brown hair and eyes, though Claude’s hair was a shade darker. His face was sharper, his chin more pointed, traits he’d likely inherited from his deceased mother.
He possessed a sullenness Emile lacked, a deep burning anger at an unknown target. He’d inherit a share of the business, as would Emile and their other cousin, Camille, daughter of their uncle Julien. Claude hadn’t been as eager to welcome us into the factory, his entire bearing telling me he’d attended the introduction because he’d been ordered to.
Claude gazed at me in belligerence as I seated myself on the end of his bunk and set my hat next to me. “My father sent you,” he stated in French. “Or Emile did. Why?”
“On the contrary, I sent myself here.” I stretched my knee, which the many flights of stairs had not helped. “I admit that Emile alerted me to your predicament.”
“They believe I stabbed Vincenzo Gallo.” Claude scowled at the cell’s door. “As though I’d waste my time on that mountebank.”
“Did you?” I asked.
“No.” Claude jerked back to me, enraged. “I told you, I’d not sully my fingers with him. They showed me the knife they found next to him, but it is not my knife. The one I carry is much better, and I wouldn’t have incriminated myself leaving it beside Gallo’s body.”
“But you might have taken someone else’s, or used an old one you were rarely seen with, and left that to point another direction.”
Claude glared at me. “If I was as angry as they say and struck out at Gallo’s disgusting face, when would I have had time to think about stealing another man’s knife beforehand? I would have thrown the weapon into the river, in any case, no matter whose knife it was. Maybe leapt in after it.”
“You make very good points,” I answered in as calm a tone as I could muster. “The murder was either carefully planned or committed in hot blood. It could not have been both.”
“Well, I did not do either.” Claude deflated. “But that gendarme captain will not believe me. He is from the mountains,” he finished with derision.
“He is very capable of reasoning, I think. He will send you to trial, I’m certain, and who knows what a magistrate will believe? A way to spare yourself that is to tell me exactly where you were last night. If you can prove you were a long way from Gallo when he was meeting his attacker, then you will be cleared.”
Claude’s head dropped to his hands again, and he clenched his now greasy hair with pale fingers. “I do not wish to speak of it.”
“Why not?” I slid out my pocket watch and clicked it open. “I dislike to hasten you, Claude, but Vernet gave us a short time only, and at least half of that has elapsed. If you tell me the truth, I can help you.”
Claude raised his head and regarded me stubbornly. “Emile has talked a great deal about you, and Gabriella does as well. She is very proud of your honor and your assistance to others.”
I warmed at Gabriella’s faith in me. “Exactly. Your father will be brokenhearted if you are accused and condemned.”
Claude’s eyes pinched, as though he hadn’t thought about the consequences to his father.
“I am appealing to that honor Emile and Gabriella boast of,” Claude said. “You will understand if I do not wish to dishonor another.”
“Perhaps,” I answered. “But will you die to preserve this other person’s honor? For a crime you did not commit?”
Again Claude hesitated. “There are things you do not understand, Captain. Things I cannot tell you.”
My patience thinned. “I am not asking you to betray another, Monsieur Devere. I know that you were arguing with Gallo earlier in the evening, which Vernet told me. All you must do is prove you were elsewhere in the small hours of the morning, when Gallo was being murdered. You need name no one else.”
“It is not so simple.” Claude was defiant but becoming more miserable as we sat there.
Had I once been this young and foolishly obstinate?
Yes, was the answer. I’d been even more of a hothead than the young man next to me, not only willing to die for my convictions but excited to do so.
“It is perfectly simple,” I said. “If you were with this person you do not wish to dishonor, then you weren’t killing Signor Gallo, and neither was this other person.”
Claude’s brows drew together. “He might be accused?”
I leaned forward to catch his words. Claude spoke rapid French, and I didn’t hear every syllable. But I swore he’d said il, not elle. He, not she.
