L'appel Du Vide [Call Of The Void]

[11]

"Mon dieu," Philippe whispered, as the realization dawned upon him.

"Yes, he told the police about w-what I did to Theo," Marie said softly, her eyes on the ground. That was when he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the sole indicators of the toll the enquired as taking on her.

"He must've negotiated for his release using that--the police would've been happy to oblige. It's a case that could get you behind bars, and put them in Carpentier's good books."

"You were dragged into it too."

"What?" Philippe asked sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Keep your voice down, you aren't supposed to be here!" she hissed, glancing at the door. "And I mean exactly that. The police are searching for you now. I know it for a fact because the police asked me about you," she whispered, leaning forward.

"What did you say?"

"That I'd never heard of the man. That Thibault's allegations were baseless and the incident was merely a story he spun to get out of prison."

"Were they convinced?"

Philippe was worried. When he had jumped on to Marie's horse, he had expected a day's worth of adventure, and possibly some minor injuries. Being entangled in political drama wasn't something he'd bargained for.

"I don't know," Marie said, shrugging. "I've a man in the police, but I'm yet to hear from him about it."

Philippe frowned slightly. "A man in the police?"

"Yes, that was how I came to know about the men from Bordeaux and Thibault. And Henri--my man--he was the one who sent the police running to help you when you were cornered," she replied nonchalantly.

Philippe blinked, feeling like an idiot. "Your man?"

Marie explained, "My father is in the Assembly. So we have some men, they collect information, suppress it when needed..."

She trailed off, biting her lip when she realized that she'd said too much.

"What do you mean?" Philippe asked, perking up like a cat that heard a mouse. "Suppress information?"

"Well, you know," Marie said, waving her hands vaguely. A pained expression clouded her face.

"I think I do," Philippe muttered, leaning back into his chair. He tried to look calm and collected, but his thoughts were utter chaos. Marie's slip-of-tongue implied a possibility he hadn't been willing to consider.

Maurice's murder could've been committed with political intent.

"Can I ask you something?" Philippe questioned. Marie nodded in reply, refusing to meet his eyes. She gazed at the bare stone wall behind him instead. Shame was written all over her face.

She wasn't proud of what her family did to 'suppress' information, Philippe concluded. However, she knew that it had to be done. When faced with opponents like Carpentier--men who'd raze down entire cities down to obtain what they wish for--they'd have to fight an-eye-for-an-eye.

"How did you know that Maurice Bernard died?" he asked, scrutinizing her intently.

Marie replied, sympathy swimming in her eyes. "Your friend, he worked as a stable boy here. Henri told us about the murder soon after he learned of it because he was an employee. And well, you were involved."

"Oh?"

"It must've been painful, finding a friend in that state," she continued quickly, "I'm really sorry for you, Philippe."