Flowers, Swords and France

There were several long tables with grease thick enough for diners to carve words on them; dozens of chairs with broken legs and arms, and the floor was dirty, too many people had left stains on them. Some of the guests were chatting among themselves, and some were drinking heavily. The sour smell of spirits, mixed with the smell of the drinker's vomit, was extremely uncomfortable in the nose.

Most of the bistros along the main roads from Paris to the provinces are like this.

Most of the diners inside were dusty and disheveled, which was in perfect harmony with the atmosphere of the tavern. Like an old man in the corner.

Although he is an old man, he does not look very old and does not have many wrinkles. But his sallow complexion and cloudy eyes still made him look very old. He wore leather shoes with iron buckles, socks that had come off, silk trousers that had changed color, a small vest, and a shirt that was too white from being washed many times to complete the outfit. They were all together, and there was an old maroon duffel coat that was now green next to him.

Generally speaking, no one runs around with a coat in the summer, except for those who are homeless and have only the few belongings they have.

He didn't talk to anyone else. He only focused on drinking since entering the tavern. His face was a little nervous and he glanced at the door from time to time.

"Isn't this a fugitive?" Some people muttered in their hearts.

However, it was none of his business, and no one cared about him. He just sat down far away from him seemingly naturally - which was what the old man wanted.

It was almost evening and the sun was about to set.

The door of the tavern was opened and two people walked in. They seemed to be travelers going to a distant place, but their clothes were very neat and tidy, which was very inconsistent with the atmosphere of this kind of tavern. After they came in, they first glanced at the old man, then went to the boss to ask for some drinks, and then sat down next to the old man.

As if sensing something was wrong, the old man's face suddenly turned a little pale, and then he suddenly stood up and walked out.

However, as soon as he got up and walked out, the two new people who came in immediately stood up again.

The old man ran out in a hurry, banged open the door of the tavern, and the two people behind him also chased him out.

A few people felt something was wrong and moved their eyes towards the door, but quickly moved away - no one was interested in getting involved in the affairs of unknown strangers. Maybe the bandit group was fighting among themselves!

The poor man possessed by fear unleashed his amazing potential and ran forward desperately, stumbling across many people on the road.

Not long after, he found another person blocking his escape route.

"Get out of the way!" he shouted, and continued to rush forward. The person in front of me got out of the way obediently.

He rushed over, but suddenly felt a pain in the back of his neck, and his whole body suddenly became sore and weak. The scene in front of him turned completely black, and he fell softly.

The pursuers from behind also caught up, and the three of them carried him to a carriage parked next to the road. Then the carriage immediately ran to a remote place, and then the carriage came to a bridge and stopped.

In the carriage, Charles woke the old man.

The old man opened his eyes and looked at Ciel in confusion and a bit of horror. "Who are you! Why do you want to catch me!"

"It doesn't matter who we are, what matters is who you are." Ciel replied. "Are you the Mr. Jean-Constant I'm looking for?"

A trace of fear flashed across the other person's eyes. "I'm not! My surname is Rival! You have found the wrong person, please let me go!"

"No?" Charles frowned, "Really?"

"Really not!" The old man looked like he was about to cry.

Ciel sighed. "If you are not, then you are of no use to us at all, so we will have to..."

Then he pursed his lips, and the people next to him grabbed the old man and dragged him out hard.

The fear of death made Constant almost scream. "Okay! I am the Jean-Constant you are looking for!"

"Which Jean Constant is it?" Charles asked leisurely, "the one who drove the Duke de Praslin?"

"Yes! Yes..." The old man has lost the courage to resist, "I just don't kill me!"

"It would have been better to admit it earlier." Charles motioned to the people next to him to put him back. "I have something to ask you."

"What's the matter..." Coachman Constant asked while panting.

"Tell me everything you know about the death of the Duchess," Charles asked softly.

When Ciel mentioned the word duchess, the other party's pupils suddenly shrank.

"I don't know anything!" He almost shouted, "Please let me go. I really don't know anything?"

"You don't know anything?" Charles sneered, "Then why do you want to stay anonymous and travel far away? And..."

He stood up and suddenly kicked the opponent in the waist.

"bite!"

There was a crisp sound of coins colliding.

"Where did this money come from? Is it stolen?"

"I really don't know anything..." the old coachman still muttered to himself.

"It seems you really want to die." Ciel sighed.

The man next to him grabbed Constant and dragged him away.

"Remember to tie up a big rock later and don't let him float up easily!" Charles warned slowly.

Just when he was about to be dragged out of the carriage door, Constant finally collapsed.

"Okay! Okay! I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything I know!"

"You should have been so honest a long time ago." Ciel nodded approvingly.

Constant sat back down opposite Charles, then took a few deep breaths, and then his eyes wandered away.

Charles took out his pocket watch. "You have one minute. After one minute, no matter what you say, even if you sing hymns, it will be useless."

Constant lowered his head.

"Okay! I'll tell you everything! I have been working as a valet for the Duke's house for more than ten years, and I have been working as a coachman for them..."

"We know this."

"The master and his wife often quarrel. I have seen them many times. The master thinks that the wife is not well-educated, which often makes him lose face. He rarely takes her to the court or attend social events. The wife blames the master for spending money excessively and relying on his wife's dowry to support the occasion... The noise is fierce every time..." Constant sighed suddenly, "Sir, you have never heard that when a duchess screams, she is no different from the women on the street!"

"Then what?"

"Then that day came..." He sighed again. "I don't know why that day, but they quarreled again. We servants were all working in our respective places and just pretended not to hear. I was a coachman, and I had to take care of the horses in the stable at the time, so I could vaguely hear There was a sound. It was probably around ** o'clock in the evening. I heard a very loud shout, "I'm going to report you!", and then another scream... but this scream was very short. It will disappear soon, like an illusion..."

"Then what?!"

"A few more minutes passed, maybe a quarter of an hour, maybe longer, I can't remember clearly... Anyway, it was at that time that Mr. Duke suddenly walked to the stable and called me, urging me to prepare the car. God, he His face was as white as a dead man at that time!”

Read the original text in Liu#9@书/吧!

"Where to go?"

Constant lowered his head.

"Where are you going?" Charles' voice increased.

"Went to Mr. Prime Minister's private residence..." Constant said in a noisy voice. "It was very late, probably in the early hours of the morning, when the Duke went back, but there were two policemen with him... What did I do at that time? I don’t know, I just obeyed the order and drove. But the next day, people told me that my wife committed suicide!” He bit his lip, “Oh my God, she committed suicide!”

Ciel was silent for a moment.

"What next?"

"At noon the next day, the Duke called us to his study, and then said to me, 'You have served our family for so long, and now it is time for you to go home. Although we give you a salary on weekdays, It’s not low anymore, but there’s still some money here, let’s use it as severance pay for you,’ and he gave it. Each of us had a bag of gold coins... There was also a policeman nearby, and the policeman specifically told us not to tell anyone what we heard last night. If there was any leakage outside, of course we would go to jail! I didn’t want to go to prison anymore, so I took the money and ran away, pretending that nothing happened!”

After finishing speaking, Constant raised his head.

"That's all I know, I don't know anything else!"

"You know enough."

Charles picked up a page of note from his pocket, then picked up a pen, then placed the paper on the carriage shaft under the lantern, and wrote down quickly.

“I, Jean Constant, former coachman of the Duke of Praslin, testify in the name of God and on my own honor that on July 19, 1847, the Duke of Praslin murdered his own wife due to a quarrel between his wife and his wife. Moreover, that night, he urgently requested to see the Prime Minister and bribed the Prime Minister to instruct the police to conceal the matter and conclude the murder case as if the Duchess had committed suicide. outside heaven.

God is my witness, nothing I say is false. "

Then Ciel handed the note to the other party.

"Please sign."

Constant grimaced. "gentlemen……"

"Or do you want to tie a big stone to your body and sink into the bottom of the river?" Charles raised his eyebrows and threatened his life again.

"But I...but I can't write my own name?" he whispered.

Ciel sighed. "Then leave a fingerprint and hold out your hand!"

Constant stretched out his hand obediently, and then Charles cut his thumb with a small file, leaving a bright red fingerprint at the end of the note.

After finishing, Charles took the confession that had been signed by him, breathed a long sigh of relief, then folded the confession and put it into his pocket.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Constant. You will be free later."

"You won't break your promise!" Constant was still a little scared.

"Of course we won't kill people needlessly..." Ciel shook his head, then looked at each other with a smile. "But if I were you, I would leave France forever."

"Leave France?"

"You have now left your mark on a document that is as deadly to others as it is to you."

"But..." The other party still seemed a little hesitant.

"There's nothing wrong with it. You betrayed your former employer. If it was just betrayal, it would be fine, but you did it against the police's warning..." Charles interrupted him, "Go to England quickly. Well, or anywhere else, so as not to get into trouble."

"But... sir..."

Charles took out a small stack of banknotes from his pocket and handed it to the other party.

"Mr. Duke gave you a bag of gold Louis, right? That's worth one or two thousand francs. I'll give you one thousand francs as your reward. Add to that your savings over the years, it's a lot of money. You can exchange this money for British money at the port, which is almost more than a hundred pounds, right? With this money, you can start a new life there. You can find a family to be a coachman, or become a driver of a horse-drawn carriage. Of course, you have to change your name..." Charles smiled. "Maybe, you can also use your new identity to build a family there..."

[Gold Louis refers to the gold coin issued during the old Bourbon dynasty, which was worth about 24 francs at the time. At that time, Western European economies all adopted the gold standard monetary system. According to calculations, one pound was worth about 7.32 grams of gold, and one franc could be exchanged for 0.) grams. In other words, one pound could be exchanged for about 25 francs, which is almost equivalent to the value of one gold Louis. 】

With this confession in hand, Charles returned to Paris at night, his heart filled with passion and joy.

Until the next morning...

"What? The Duke of Praslin also committed suicide?"