Greenheit hadn't even closed his door, and the gaslight from his entryway cast a glow on the hallway floor.
Then—
A man's panicked plea.
"Bang!"
A woman's terrified shriek.
"Bang!"
Dead silence.
But the air seemed to scream with souls.
Each gunshot made Lionel tremble.
After an unknown period—
"Bang!"
It was as if the whole world had been deafened by that last shot.
...
It was late into the night when Lionel returned to his apartment at 12 Anthon Street from "Silver Street 36 Quay" (the address/nickname of the Paris police headquarters).
The door to apartment 503 next door was already closed and sealed with a red sticker.
As Lionel passed it, he remembered Mr. Greenheit's final smile.
It was as if he was saying to Lionel,
"I'm sorry, my good neighbor."
When he entered his apartment, he found Alice and Petty sitting in the living room, waiting for him.
Lionel looked at their pale faces and managed a smile,
"I'm done with the questions, I'm fine—you two really could have gone to bed earlier."
Actually, he wasn't worried about himself, but about Alice.
When the police had arrived earlier, he made Alice hide in her room and had already thought of many ways to deflect their questions.
However, faced with such an obvious crime of passion, the Parisian police were clearly experienced and not interested in interrogating everyone.
They only took Lionel back to take his statement and then released him.
There were five residents on the fifth floor.
During the holiday, only Lionel's 502, Greenheit's 503, and Lucian's 505 were occupied; the other two households were still on vacation.
Now, only Lionel's 502 remained.
He claimed that he had been writing in his room and only knew something had happened when he heard the gunshots—
Because he was timid, he hadn't even opened his door until the Paris police, in their dark blue uniforms and flat-topped kepis, knocked on his door.
This story was virtually airtight.
Aside from Alice and Petty, no one knew that Mr. Greenheit had visited his apartment.
However, he did honestly admit to the police that he knew about Lucian and Petite's affair, and not just once—but what did that matter?
In Paris, everyone turned a blind eye to such things, even gossiped about them with relish.
"Silver Street 36 Quay" would obviously not call in "consulting detectives" to interrogate him, a hapless neighbor.
Lionel hadn't even taken a step into or looked inside Greenheit's apartment 503—instead, the apartment manager, the doorman, and a few curious downstairs neighbors had made a mess of the crime scene and were scolded by the police for quite some time.
Alice's eyes were red.
With lingering fear, she asked Lionel,
"Leon, why would he do such a thing?"
Alice was not unfamiliar with affairs—in the Alps countryside, such stories always cropped up in the vulgar conversations of farmers.
But those usually started with an argument, followed by a chase, ending in a beating, and concluding with some compensation.
No one died; only jokes were left, and within a few years, no one would bring it up again—because there would always be new affairs.
She had also read some novels where various characters, big and small, had affairs, which often ended in a farce.
Mr. Greenheit killing Lucian, she could somewhat agree with; killing his wife, Petite, she could barely understand.
But the fact that he shot himself in the head was beyond Alice's comprehension.
Lionel sighed,
"Mr. Greenheit's life's efforts, faith, and persistence were all destroyed.
Even if he lived, he would be a mere shell of a man."
Alice nodded, half-understanding.
Immediately, she asked worriedly,
"Did the police ask about anything else?
Leon, why don't you help me find a cheap place to live?
I'll move out so I won't implicate you."
Mentioning this gave Lionel a headache.
He sighed,
"It's not that bad yet—Paris rent can't be afforded by a copyist making ten centimes a page."
Petty, on the other hand, was more resilient—perhaps from seeing too many corpses in the winter of the 11th arrondissement—and had already calmed down.
She asked Lionel,
"Young master, are you hungry?
I'll make something to eat."
Lionel initially wanted to refuse, but considering that food could stabilize one's mind and Alice might need it, he asked Petty to prepare something simple.
Mr. Greenheit's death was also a shocking lesson for him.
After all, whether in his previous life or this one, this was his first direct encounter with a murder case.
As a representative of the emerging middle class in the 19th century, Mr. Greenheit adhered to a moral code entirely different from the so-called "upper class."
They received a good education from a young age, believed in God, worked diligently, were loyal to their families, and were kind to others, serving as a model for the Parisian citizenry.
Nobles and wealthy merchants could accept their wives having lovers—of course, they themselves had even more lovers—because their marriages were mostly based on an exchange of interests, not love.
In the French royal court, the "Chief Mistress" (also known as the "official mistress") was even a government-recognized title.
In addition to enjoying stipends, rewards, and titles of nobility, court nobles had to stand and bow in deference when the king's mistress passed by.
Some "Chief Mistresses" held even more power than the Queen, deeply involved in national politics or becoming renowned patrons of culture and art.
For instance, the trend of Parisian salons began with Louis XV's chief mistress, Madame de Pompadour.
But the middle class was different—compared to the upper class, they lacked sufficient interests to bind their marriages;
Compared to rural society, they were free from the natural responsibility of propagating offspring and inheriting land.
In a situation neither touching heaven nor earth, "love," especially "love" sanctioned by doctrine and ritual, was the sole spiritual pillar sustaining the family.
When this pillar collapsed, their entire life collapsed with it.
But these matters were too complex for Lionel to explain clearly to Alice.
Petty's "late-night snack" was soon ready—two slices of toasted bread for everyone, with fried bacon, an egg, and a slice of tomato in between.
After eating the sandwiches, Alice's emotions settled down, and she returned to the bedroom with Petty to sleep.
Lionel remained in his study until late into the night.
He wanted to finish writing My Uncle Jules, but he crumpled sheet after sheet of paper, ultimately not writing a single word.
————
The next morning, Lionel was woken by the noise downstairs.
He went to the window and pulled back the curtain, seeing the apartment building's entrance crowded with people.
From their attire and equipment, they were undoubtedly journalists.
Only a sensational case combining adultery, being caught in the act, murder, and suicide could make Parisians so active on a holiday morning.
The apartment manager and doorman tried hard to hold them back, but the line of defense was precarious.
Lionel stepped out of his room and found Alice and Petty already awake, anxiously peering out the living room window.
Lionel made an immediate decision:
"Put on your outdoor clothes.
We'll leave through the back door.
We can't stay here today."
Petty asked,
"Young master, where shall we go?"
Lionel thought for a moment:
"Didn't you two want to go boating on the Seine?
We'll go today!"
(End of Chapter)
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