XXII
THE CATASTROPHE
Such are the facts that, with an almost incredible talent forinvestigation, had been collected and prepared by the stout man with thejovial face who had taken Prosper under his protection, M. Verduret.
Reaching Paris at nine o'clock in the evening, not by the Lyons roadas he had said, but by the Orleans train, M. Verduret hurried up to theArchangel, where he found the cashier impatiently expecting him.
"You are about to hear some rich developments," he said to Prosper, "andsee how far back into the past one has to seek for the primary cause ofa crime. All things are linked together and dependent upon each other inthis world of ours. If Gaston de Clameran had not entered a littlecafe at Tarascon to play a game of billiards twenty years ago, yourmoney-safe would not have been robbed three weeks ago.
"Valentine de la Verberie is punished in 1866 for the murder committedfor her sake in 1840. Nothing is neglected or forgotten, when sternRetribution asserts her sway. Listen."
And he forthwith related all that he had discovered, referring, as hewent along, to a voluminous manuscript which he had prepared, with manynotes and authenticated proofs attached.
During the last week M. Verduret had not had twenty-four hours' rest,but he bore no traces of fatigue. His iron muscles braved any amount oflabor, and his elastic nature was too well tempered to give way beneathsuch pressure.
While any other man would have sunk exhausted in a chair, he stood upand described, with the enthusiasm and captivating animation peculiarto him, the minutest details and intricacies of the plot that he haddevoted his whole energy to unravelling; personating every character hebrought upon the scene to take part in the strange drama, so that hislistener was bewildered and dazzled by his brilliant acting.
As Prosper listened to this narrative of events happening twenty yearsback, the secret conversations as minutely related as if overheard themoment they took place, it sounded more like a romance than a statementof plain facts.
All these ingenious explanations might be logical, but what foundationdid they possess? Might they not be the dreams of an excitedimagination?
M. Verduret did not finish his report until four o'clock in the morning;then he cried, with an accent of triumph:
"And now they are on their guard, and sharp, wary rascals too: but theywon't escape me; I have cornered them beautifully. Before a week isover, Prosper, you will be publicly exonerated, and will come out ofthis scrape with flying colors. I have promised your father you shall."
"Impossible!" said Prosper in a dazed way, "it cannot be!"
"What?"
"All this you have just told me."
M. Verduret opened wide his eyes, as if he could not understand anyonehaving the audacity to doubt the accuracy of _his_ report.
"Impossible, indeed!" he cried. "What! have you not sense enough to seethe plain truth written all over every fact, and attested by the bestauthority? Your thick-headedness exasperates me to the last degree."
"But how can such rascalities take place in Paris, in our very midst,without----"
"Parbleu!" interrupted the fat man, "you are young, my friend! Are youinnocent enough to suppose that crimes, forty times worse than this,don't occur every day? You think the horrors of the police-court arethe only ones. Pooh! You only read in the _Gazette des Tribunaux_ of thecruel melodramas of life, where the actors are as cowardly as the knife,and as treacherous as the poison they use. It is at the family fireside,often under shelter of the law itself, that the real tragedies oflife are acted; in modern crimes the traitors wear gloves, and cloakthemselves with public position; the victims die, smiling to the last,without revealing the torture they have endured to the end. Why, whatI have just related to you is an everyday occurrence; and you professastonishment."
"I can't help wondering how you discovered all this tissue of crime."
"Ah, that is the point!" said the fat man with a self-satisfied smile."When I undertake a task, I devote my whole attention to it. Now, makea note of this: When a man of ordinary intelligence concentrates histhoughts and energies upon the attainment of an object, he is certain toobtain ultimate success. Besides that, I have my own method of workingup a case."
"Still I don't see what grounds you had to go upon."
"To be sure, one needs some light to guide one in a dark affair likethis. But the fire in Clameran's eye at the mention of Gaston's nameignited my lantern. From that moment I walked straight to the solutionof the mystery, as I would walk to a beacon-light on a dark night."
The eager, questioning look of Prosper showed that he would like to knowthe secret of his protector's wonderful penetration, and at the sametime be more thoroughly convinced that what he had heard was alltrue--that his innocence would be more clearly proved.
"Now confess," cried M. Verduret, "you would give anything in the worldto find out how I discovered the truth?"
"I certainly would, for it is the darkest of mysteries, marvellous!"
M. Verduret enjoyed Prosper's bewilderment. To be sure, he was neithera good judge nor a distinguished amateur; but he was an astonishedadmirer, and sincere admiration is always flattering, no matter whenceit comes.
"Well," he replied, "I will explain my system. There is nothingmarvellous about it as you will soon see. We worked together to find thesolution of the problem, so you know my reasons for suspecting Clameranas the prime mover in the robbery. As soon as I had acquired thiscertainty, my task was easy. You want to know what I did? I placedtrustworthy people to watch the parties in whom I was most interested.Joseph Dubois took charge of Clameran, and Nina Gypsy never lost sightof Mme. Fauvel and her niece."
"I cannot comprehend how Nina ever consented to this service."
"That is my secret," replied M. Verduret. "Having the assistance of goodeyes and quick ears on the spot, I went to Beaucaire to inquire into thepast, so as to link it with what I knew of the present. The next day Iwas at Clameran; and the first step I took was to find the son of St.Jean, the old valet. An honest man he was, too; open and simple asnature herself; and he made a good bargain in selling me his madder."
"Madder?" said Prosper with a puzzled look; "what did you----"
"Of course I wanted to buy his madder. Of course I did not appear tohim as I do to you now. I was a countryman wanting to buy madder; hehad madder for sale; so we began to bargain about the price. The debatelasted almost all day, during which time we drank a dozen bottles ofwine. About supper-time, St. Jean was as drunk as a bunghole, and I hadpurchased nine hundred francs' worth of madder which your father willsell to-morrow."
Prosper's astonished countenance made M. Verduret laugh heartily.
"I risked nine hundred francs," he continued, "but thread by thread Igathered the whole history of the Clamerans, Gaston's love-affair, hisflight, and the stumbling of the horse ridden by Louis. I found alsothat about a year ago Louis returned, sold the chateau to a man namedFougeroux, whose wife, Mihonne, had a secret interview with Louis theday of the purchase. I went to see Mihonne. Poor woman! her rascallyhusband has pounded all the sense out of her; she is almost idiotic. Itold her I came from the Clameran family, and she at once related to meeverything she knew."
The apparent simplicity of this mode of investigation confoundedProsper. He wondered it had not occurred to him before.
"From that time," continued M. Verduret, "the skein began todisentangle; I held the principal thread. I now set about finding outwhat had become of Gaston. Lafourcade, who is a friend of your father,informed me that he had bought a foundery, and settled in Oloron, wherehe soon after suddenly died. Thirty-six hours later I was at Oloron."
"You are certainly indefatigable!" said Prosper.
"No, but I always strike while the iron is hot. At Oloron I met Manuel,who had gone there to make a little visit before returning to Spain.From him I obtained a complete history of Gaston's life, and all theparticulars of his death. Manuel also told me of Louis's visit; and theinn-keeper described a young workman who was the
re at the same time,whom I at once recognized as Raoul."
"But how did you know of all the conversations between the villains?"said Prosper. "You seem to be aware of their secret thoughts."
"You evidently think I have been drawing upon my imagination. You willsoon see to the contrary," said Verduret good-humoredly. "While I wasat work down there, my aids did not sit with their hands tied together.Mutually distrustful, Clameran and Raoul preserved all the lettersreceived from each other. Joseph Dubois copied them, or the importantportions of them, and forwarded them to me. Nina spent her timelistening at all doors under her supervision, and sent me a faithfulreport. Finally, I have at the Fauvels another means of investigationwhich I will reveal to you later."
"I understand it all now," murmured Prosper.
"And what have you been doing during my absence, my young friend?" askedM. Verduret; "have you heard any news?"
At this question Prosper turned crimson. But he knew that it would neverdo to keep silent about his imprudent step.
"Alas!" he stammered, "I read in a newspaper that Clameran was about tomarry Madeleine; and I acted like a fool."
"What did you do?" inquired Verduret anxiously.
"I wrote an anonymous letter to M. Fauvel, informing him that his wifewas in love with Raoul--"
M. Verduret here brought his clinched fist down upon the little tablenear by, with such violence that the thin plank was shivered. Hischeerful face in an instant clouded over.
"What folly!" he exclaimed, "how could you go and ruin everything?"
He arose from his seat, and strode up and down the room, oblivious ofthe lodgers below, whose windows shook with every angry stamp of hisfoot.
"What made you act so like a child, an idiot, a fool?" he saidindignantly to Prosper.
"Monsieur!"
"Here you are, drowning; an honest man springs into the water to saveyou, and just as he approaches the shore you entangle his feet toprevent him from swimming! What was my last order to you when I lefthere?"
"To keep quiet, and not go out of the hotel."
"Well."
The consciousness of having done a foolish thing made Prosper appearlike a frightened school-boy, accused by his teacher of playing truant.
"It was night, monsieur," he hesitatingly said, "and, having a violentheadache, I took a walk along the quay thinking there was no risk inmy entering a cafe; there I picked up a paper, and read the dreadfulannouncement."
"Did you not promise to trust everything to me?"
"You were absent, monsieur; and you yourself might have been surprisedby an unexpected--"
"Only fools are ever surprised into committing a piece of folly," criedM. Verduret impatiently. "To write an anonymous letter! Do you know towhat you expose me? Breaking a sacred promise made to one of the fewpersons whom I highly esteem among my fellow-beings. I shall be lookedupon as a liar, a cheat--I who--"
He abruptly stopped, as if afraid to trust himself to speak further;after calming down a little, he turned to Prosper, and said:
"The best thing we can do is to try and repair the harm you have done.When and where did you post this idiotic letter?"
"Yesterday evening, at the Rue du Cardinal Lemoine. It hardly reachedthe bottom of the box before I regretted having written it."
"You had better have regretted it before dropping it in. What time wasit?"
"About ten o'clock."
"Then your sweet little letter must have reached M. Fauvel with hisearly mail; probably he was alone in his study when he read it."
"I know he was: he never goes down to the bank until he has opened hisletters."
"Can you recall the exact terms of your letter? Stop and think, for itis very important that I should know."
"Oh, it is unnecessary for me to reflect. I remember the letter as if Ihad just written it."
And almost verbatim he repeated what he had written.
After attentively listening, M. Verduret sat with a perplexed frownupon his face, as if trying to discover some means of repairing the harmdone.
"That is an awkward letter," he finally said, "to come from a personwho does not deal in such things. It leaves everything to be understoodwithout specifying anything; it is vague, jeering, insidious. Repeat itto me."
Prosper obeyed, and his second version did not vary from the first in asingle word.
"Nothing could be more alarming than that allusion to the cashier," saidthe fat man, repeating the words after Prosper. "The question, 'Was italso he who stole Mme. Fauvel's diamonds?' is simply fearful. What couldbe more exasperating than the sarcastic advice, 'In your place, I wouldnot have any public scandal, but would watch my wife?' The effect ofyour letter must have been terrible," he added thoughtfully as he stoodwith folded arms looking at poor Prosper. "M. Fauvel is quick-tempered,is he not?"
"He has a violent temper, when aroused."
"Then the mischief is not irreparable."
"What! do you suppose--"
"I think that an impulsive man is afraid of himself, and seldom carriesout his first angry intentions. That is our chance of salvation. If,upon the receipt of your bomb-shell, M. Fauvel, unable to restrainhimself, rushed into his wife's room, and cried, 'Where are yourdiamonds?' Mme. Fauvel will confess all; and then good-by to our hopes."
"Why would this be disastrous?"
"Because, the moment Mme. Fauvel opens her lips to her husband, ourbirds will take flight."
Prosper had never thought of this eventuality.
"Then, again," continued M. Verduret, "it would deeply distress anotherperson."
"Anyone whom I know?"
"Yes, my friend, and very well too. I should certainly be chagrined tothe last degree, if these two rascals escape, without having obtainedcomplete satisfaction from them."
"It seems to me that you know how to take care of yourself, and can doanything you please."
M. Verduret shrugged his shoulders, and said:
"Did you not perceive the gaps in my narrative?"
"I did not."
"That is because you don't know how to listen. In the first place, didLouis de Clameran poison his brother, or not?"
"Yes; I am sure of it, from what you tell me."
"There you are! You are much more certain, young man, than I am. Youropinion is mine; but what proof have we? None. I skilfully questionedDr. C----. He has not the shadow of suspicion; and Dr. C---- is noquack; he is a cultivated, observing man of high standing. What poisonsproduce the effects described? I know of none; and yet I have studied upon poisons from Pomerania digitalis to Sauvresy aconite."
"The death took place so opportunely----"
"That anybody would be convinced of foul play. That is true; but chanceis sometimes a wonderful accomplice in crime. In the second place, Iknow nothing of Raoul's antecedents."
"Is information on that point necessary?"
"Indispensable, my friend; but we will soon know something. I have sentoff one of my men--excuse me, I mean one of my friends--who is veryexpert and adroit, M. Palot; and he writes that he is on the track. I aminterested in the history of this sentimental, sceptical young rascal. Ihave an idea that he must have been a brave, honest sort of youth beforeClameran ruined him."
Prosper was no longer listening.
M. Verduret's words had inspired him with confidence. Already he sawthe guilty men arraigned before the bar of justice; and enjoyed, inanticipation, this assize-court drama, where he would be publiclyexonerated and restored to position.
Then he would seek Madeleine; for now he understood her strange conductat the dressmaker's, and knew that she had never ceased to love him.
This certainty of future happiness restored all the self-possession thathad deserted him the day he found the safe robbed. For the first time hewas astonished at the peculiarity of his situation.
Prosper had at first only been surprised at the protection of M.Verduret and the extent of his investigations: now he asked himself,what could have been his motives for acting th
us?
What price did he expect for this sacrifice of time and labor?
His anxiety made him say nervously:
"It is unjust to us both, monsieur, for you to preserve your incognitoany longer. When you have saved the honor and life of a man, you shouldat least let him know whom he is to thank for it."
"Oh!" said M. Verduret smilingly, "you are not out of the woods yet. Youare not married either: so you must wait a little longer; patience andfaith."
The clock struck six.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed M. Verduret. "Can it be six o'clock? I didhope to have a good night's rest, but I must keep on moving. This is notime to be asleep."
He went into the passage, and, leaning over the balusters, called, "Mme.Alexandre! I say, Mme. Alexandre!"
The hostess of the Archangel, the portly wife of Fanferlot the Squirrel,evidently had not been to bed. This fact struck Prosper.
She appeared, obsequious, smiling, and eager to please.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" she inquired.
"You can send your--Joseph Dubois and Palmyre to me as soon as possible.Let me know when they arrive. I will rest a few minutes, and you canawake me when they come."
As soon as Mme. Alexandre left the room, the fat man unceremoniouslythrew himself on the bed.
"You have no objections, I suppose?" he said to Prosper.
In five minutes he was fast asleep; and Prosper sat by the bed watchinghim with a perplexed gaze, wondering who this strange man could be.
About nine o'clock someone tapped timidly at the door.
Slight as the noise was, it aroused M. Verduret, who sprang up, andcalled out:
"Who is it?"
Prosper arose and opened the door.
Joseph Dubois, the valet of the Marquis of Clameran, entered.
This important assistant of M. Verduret was breathless from fastrunning; and his little rat eyes were more restless than ever.
"Well, patron, I am glad to see you once more," he cried. "Now you cantell me what to do; I have been perfectly lost during your absence, andhave felt like a jumping monkey with a broken string.
"What! did you get frightened too?"
"Bless me! I think I had cause for alarm when I could not find youanywhere. Yesterday afternoon I sent you three despatches, to theaddresses you gave me, Lyons, Beaucaire, and Oloron, but received noanswer. I was almost crazy with anxiety when your message reached mejust now."
"Things are getting hot, then."
"Hot! They are burning! The place is too warm to hold me any longer;upon my soul, I can't stand it!"
M. Verduret occupied himself in repairing his toilet, become disarrangedby lying down.
When he had finished, he threw himself in an easy-chair, and said toJoseph Dubois, who remained respectfully standing, cap in hand, like asoldier awaiting orders:
"Explain yourself, my boy, and quickly, if you please; nocircumlocution."
"It is just this, patron. I don't know what your plans are, or what lineyou are taking now; but I can just tell you this: that you will have towind up the affair pretty quickly."
"That is your opinion, Master Joseph?"
"Yes, patron, because if you wait any longer, good-by to our covey: youwill certainly find an empty cage, and the birds flown. You smile? Yes,I know you are clever, and can accomplish anything; but they are cunningblades, and as slippery as eels. They know that they are watched, too."
"The devil they do!" cried M. Verduret. "Who has been committingblunders?"
"Oh! nobody has done anything wrong," replied Joseph. "You know, patron,that they suspected something long ago. They gave you a proof of it, thenight of the fancy ball; that ugly cut on your arm was the beginning.Ever since, they have had one eye open all the time. They had begun tofeel easier, when all of a sudden, yesterday, _ma foi_, they began tosmell a rat!"
"Was that the cause of your telegrams?"
"Of course. Now listen: yesterday morning when my master got up, aboutten o'clock, he took it into his head to arrange the papers in his desk;which, by the way, has a disgusting lock which has given me a deal oftrouble. Meanwhile, I pretended to be fixing the fire, so as to remainin the room to watch him. Patron, the man has an eye like a Yankee! Atthe first glance he saw, or rather divined, that his papers had beenmeddled with, he turned livid, and swore an oath; Lord, what an oath!"
"Never mind the oath; go on."
"Well, how he discovered the little attentions I had devoted tohis letters, I can't imagine. You know how careful I am. I had puteverything in perfect order; just as I found things I left them, when,lo and behold! my noble marquis picks up each paper, one at a time,turns it over, and smells it. I was just thinking I would offer him amagnifying-glass, when all of a sudden he sprang up, and with one kicksent his chair across the room, and flew at me with his eyes flashinglike two pistols. 'Somebody has been at my papers,' he shrieked; 'thisletter has been photographed!' B-r-r-r! I am not a coward, but I cantell you that my heart stood perfectly still; I saw myself as deadas Caesar, cut into mince-meat; and says I to myself, 'Fanfer--excuseme--Dubois, my friend, you are lost, dead;' and I thought of Mme.Alexandre."
M. Verduret was buried in thought, and paid no attention to the worthyJoseph's analysis of his personal sensations.
"What happened next?" said Verduret after a few minutes.
"Why, he was just as frightened as I was, patron. The rascal did noteven dare to touch me. To be sure, I had taken the precaution to get outof his reach; we talked with a large table between us. While wonderingwhat could have enabled him to discover the secret, I defended myselfwith virtuous indignation. I said:
"'It cannot be; M. le marquis is mistaken. Who would dare touch hispapers?'
"Bast! Instead of listening to me, he flourished an open letter, andsaid:
"'This letter has been photographed! here is proof of it!' and hepointed to a little yellow spot on the paper, shrieking out, 'Look!Smell! Smell it, you devil! It is--' I forget the name he called it, butsome acid used by photographers."
"I know, I know," said M. Verduret; "go on; what next?"
"Then, patron, we had a scene; what a scene! He ended by seizing me bythe throat, and shaking me like a plum-tree, saying he would shake meuntil I told him who I was, what I knew, and where I came from. As if Iknew, myself! I was obliged to account for every minute of my timesince I had been in his service. The devil was worse than a judge ofinstruction, in his questions. Then he sent for the hotel porter,who had charge of the front door, and questioned him closely, but inEnglish, so that I could not understand. After a while, he cooled down,and when the boy was gone, presented me with twenty francs, saying, 'Iam sorry I was so sharp with you; you are too stupid to have been guiltyof the offence.'"
"He said that, did he?"
"He used those very words to my face, patron."
"And you think he meant what he said?"
"Certainly I do."
The fat man smiled, and whistled a little tune expressive of contempt.
"If you think that," he said, "Clameran was right in his estimate ofyour brilliancy."
It was easy to see that Joseph Dubois was anxious to hear his patron'sgrounds for considering him stupid, but dared not ask.
"I suppose I am stupid, if you think so," said poor Fanferlot humbly."Well, after he had done blustering about the letters, M. le marquisdressed, and went out. He did not want his carriage, but I saw him hirea cab at the hotel door. I thought he had perhaps disappeared forever;but I was mistaken. About five o'clock he returned as gay as abull-finch. During his absence, I had telegraphed to you."
"What! did you not follow him?"
"I stayed on the spot in case of his return; but one of our friends keptwatch on him, and this friend gave me a report of my dandy's movements.First he went to a broker's, then to the bank and discount office: so hemust be collecting his money to take a little trip."
"Is that all he did?"
"That is all, patron. But I must tell you how the rascals
tried to shutup, 'administratively,' you understand, Mlle. Palmyre. Fortunately youhad anticipated something of the kind, and given orders to watch overher safety. But for you, she would now be in prison."
Joseph looked up to the ceiling by way of trying to remember somethingmore. Finding nothing there, he said:
"That is all. I rather think M. Patrigent will rub his hands withdelight when I carry him my report. He did not expect to see me anymore, and has no idea of the facts I have collected to swell the size ofhis FILE 113."
There was a long silence. Joseph was right in supposing that the crisishad come. M. Verduret was arranging his plan of battle while waitingfor the report of Nina--now Palmyre, upon which depended his point ofattack.
But Joseph Dubois began to grow restless and uneasy.
"What must I do now, patron?" he asked.
"Return to the hotel; probably your master had noticed your absence; buthe will say nothing about it, so continue--"
Here M. Verduret was interrupted by an exclamation from Prosper, who wasstanding near a window.
"What is the matter?" he inquired.
"There is Clameran!" cried Prosper, "over there."
M. Verduret and Joseph ran to the window.
"Where is he?" said Joseph, "I don't see him."
"There, at the corner of the bridge, behind that orange-woman's stall."
Prosper was right. It was the noble Marquis of Clameran, who, hid behindthe stall, was watching for his servant to come out of the Archangel.
At first the quick-sighted Verduret had some doubts whether it was themarquis, who, being skilled in these hazardous expeditions, managed toconceal himself behind a pillar so as to elude detection.
But a moment came, when, elbowed by the pressing crowd, he was obligedto come out on the pavement in full view of the window.
"Now don't you see I was right!" cried the cashier.
"Well," said the amazed Joseph, "I am amazed!"
M. Verduret seemed not in the least surprised, but quietly said:
"The game needs hunting. Well, Joseph, my boy, do you still think thatyour noble master was duped by your acting injured innocence?"
"You assured me to the contrary, patron," said Joseph in an humble tone;"and your opinion is more convincing than all the proofs in the world."
"This pretended outburst of rage was premeditated on the part of yournoble master. Knowing that he is being tracked, he naturally wishes todiscover who his adversaries are. You can imagine how uncomfortable hemust be at this uncertainty. Perhaps he thinks his pursuers are some ofhis old accomplices, who, being starved, want a piece of his cake. Hewill remain there until you come out: then he will come in to find outwho you are."
"But, patron, I can go home without his seeing me."
"Yes, I know. You will climb the little wall separating the Archangelfrom the wine-merchant's yard, and keep along the stationer's area,until you reach the Rue de la Huchette."
Poor Joseph looked as if he had just received a bucket of ice-water uponhis head.
"Exactly the way I was going, patron," he gasped out. "I heard that youknew every plank and door of all the houses in Paris, and it certainlymust be so."
The fat man made no reply to Joseph's admiring remarks. He was thinkinghow he could catch Clameran.
As to the cashier, he listened wonderingly, watching these strangers,who seemed determined to reinstate him in public opinion, and punish hisenemies, while he himself stood by powerless and bewildered. What theirmotives for befriending him could be, he vainly tried to discover.
"I will tell you what I can do," said Joseph after deep thought.
"What is it?"
"I can innocently walk out of the front door, and loaf along the streetuntil I reach the Hotel du Louvre."
"And then?"
"Dame! Clameran will come in and question Mme. Alexandre, whom you caninstruct beforehand; and she is smart enough to put any sharper off thetrack."
"Bad plan!" pronounced M. Verduret decidedly; "a scamp so compromisedas Clameran is not easily put off the track; now his eyes are opened, hewill be pretty hard to catch."
Suddenly, in a brief tone of authority which admitted of nocontradiction, the fat man said:
"I have a way. Has Clameran, since he found that his papers had beensearched, seen Lagors?"
"No, patron."
"Perhaps he has written to him?"
"I'll bet you my head he has not. Having your orders to watch hiscorrespondence, I invented a little system which informs me every timehe touches a pen; during the last twenty-four hours the pens have notbeen touched."
"Clameran went out yesterday."
"But the man who followed him says he wrote nothing on the way."
"Then we have time yet!" cried Verduret. "Hurry! Hurry! I give youfifteen minutes to make yourself a head; you know the sort; I will watchthe rascal until you come up."
The delighted Joseph disappeared in a twinkling; while Prosper and M.Verduret remained at the window observing Clameran, who, according tothe movements of the crowd, was sometimes lost to sight, and sometimesjust in front of the window, but was evidently determined not to quithis post until he had obtained the information he sought.
"Why do you devote yourself exclusively to the marquis?" asked Prosper.
"Because, my friend," replied M. Verduret, "because--that is mybusiness, and not yours."
Joseph Dubois had been granted a quarter of an hour in which tometamorphose himself; before ten minutes had elapsed he reappeared.
The dandified coachman with Bergami whiskers, red vest, and foppishmanners, was replaced by a sinister-looking individual, whose veryappearance was enough to scare any rogue.
His black cravat twisted around a paper collar, and ornamented by animitation diamond pin; his long-tailed black boots and heavy cane,revealed the employee of the Rue de Jerusalem, as plainly as theshoulder-straps mark a soldier.
Joseph Dubois had vanished forever; and from his livery, phoenix-likeand triumphant, arose the radiant Fanferlot, surnamed the Squirrel.
When Fanferlot entered the room, Prosper uttered a cry of surprise andalmost fright.
He recognized the man who had assisted the commissary of police toexamine the bank on the day of the robbery.
M. Verduret examined his aide with a satisfied look, and said:
"Not bad! There is enough of the police-court air about you to alarmeven an honest man. You understood me perfectly this time."
Fanferlot was transported with delight at this compliment.
"What must I do now, patron?" he inquired.
"Nothing difficult for an adroit man: but remember, upon the precisionof our movements depends the success of my plan. Before arrestingLagors, I wish to dispose of Clameran. Now that the rascals areseparated, the first thing to do is to prevent their coming together."
"I understand," said Fanferlot, snapping his little rat-like eyes; "I amto create a diversion."
"Exactly. Go out by the Rue de la Huchette, and hasten to St. Michel'sbridge; loaf along the bank, and finally sit on the steps of the quay,so that Clameran may know he is being watched. If he doesn't see you, dosomething to attract his attention."
"Parbleu! I will throw a stone into the water," said Fanferlot, rubbinghis hands with delight at his own brilliant idea.
"As soon as Clameran has seen you," continued M. Verduret, "he will bealarmed, and instantly decamp. Knowing there are reasons why the policeshould be after him, he will hasten to escape you; then comes the timefor you to keep wide awake; he is a slippery eel, and cunning as a rat."
"I know all that; I was not born yesterday."
"So much the better. You can convince him of that. Well, knowing youare at his heels, he will not dare to return to the Hotel du Louvre,for fear of being called on by troublesome visitors. Now, it is veryimportant that he should not return to the hotel."
"But suppose he does?" said Fanferlot.
M. Verduret thought for a minute, and then said:
"It is not probable that he will do so; but if he should, you must waituntil he comes out again, and continue to follow him. But he won't enterthe hotel; very likely he will take the cars: but in that event don'tlose sight of him, no matter if you have to follow him to Siberia. Haveyou money with you?"
"I will get some from Mme. Alexandre."
"Very good. Ah! one more word. If the rascal takes the cars, sendme word. If he beats about the bush until night, be on your guard,especially in lonely places; the desperado is capable of any enormity."
"If necessary, must I fire?"
"Don't be rash; but, if he attacks you, of course defend yourself. Come,'tis time you were gone."
Dubois-Fanferlot went out. Verduret and Prosper resumed their post ofobservation.
"Why all this secrecy?" inquired Prosper. "Clameran is charged with tentimes worse crimes than I was ever accused of, and yet my disgrace wasmade as public as possible."
"Don't you understand," replied the fat man, "that I wish to separatethe cause of Raoul from that of the marquis? But, sh! look!"
Clameran had left his place near the orange-woman's stand, andapproached the bridge, where he seemed to be trying to make out someunexpected object.
"Ah!" said M. Verduret; "he has just discovered our man."
Clameran's uneasiness was quite apparent; he walked forward a few steps,as if intending to cross the bridge; then, suddenly turning around,rapidly walked in the direction of the Rue St. Jacques.
"He is caught!" cried M. Verduret with delight.
At that moment the door opened, and Mme. Nina Gypsy, _alias_ PalmyreChocareille, entered.
Poor Nina! Each day spent in the service of Madeleine seemed to haveaged her a year.
Tears had dimmed the brilliancy of her beautiful black eyes; her rosycheeks were pale and hollow, and her merry smile was quite gone.
Poor Gypsy, once so gay and spirited, now crushed beneath the burden ofher sorrows, was the picture of misery.
Prosper thought that, wild with joy at seeing him, and proud of havingso nobly devoted herself to his interest, Nina would throw her armsaround his neck, and say how much she loved him. To his surprise, Ninascarcely spoke to him. Although his every thought had been devoted toMadeleine since he discovered the reasons for her cruelty, he was hurtby Nina's cold manner.
The girl stood looking at M. Verduret with a mixture of fear anddevotion, like a poor dog that has been cruelly treated by its master.
He, however, was kind and gentle in his manner toward her.
"Well, my dear," he said encouragingly, "what news do you bring me?"
"Something is going on at the house, monsieur, and I have been tryingto get here to tell you; at last, Mlle. Madeleine made an excuse forsending me out."
"You must thank Mlle. Madeleine for her confidence in me. I suppose shecarried out the plan we decided upon?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"She receives the Marquis of Clameran's visits?"
"Since the marriage has been decided upon, he comes every day, andmademoiselle receives him with kindness. He seems to be delighted."
These answers filled Prosper with anger and alarm. The poor young man,not comprehending the intricate moves of M. Verduret, felt as if hewere being tossed about from pillar to post, and made the tool andlaughing-stock of everybody.
"What!" he cried; "this worthless Marquis of Clameran, an assassin anda thief, allowed to visit at M. Fauvel's, and pay his addresses toMadeleine? Where are the promises, monsieur, which you have made? Haveyou merely been amusing yourself by raising my hopes, to dash them--"
"Enough!" interrupted M. Verduret harshly; "you are too green tounderstand anything, my friend. If you are incapable of helpingyourself, at least have sense enough to refrain from importuningthose who are working for you. Do you not think you have already donesufficient mischief?"
Having administered this rebuke, he turned to Gypsy, and said in softertones:
"Go on, my child: what have you discovered?"
"Nothing positive, monsieur; but enough to make me nervous, and fearfulof impending danger. I am not certain, but suspect from appearances,that some dreadful catastrophe is about to happen. It may only be apresentiment. I cannot get any information from Mme. Fauvel; she refusesto answer any hints, and moves about like a ghost, never opening herlips. She seems to be afraid of her niece, and to be trying to concealsomething from her."
"What about M. Fauvel?"
"I was just about to tell you, monsieur. Some fearful misfortune hashappened to him, you may depend upon it. He wanders about as if he hadlost his mind. Something certainly occurred yesterday; his voice evenis changed. He is so harsh and irritable that mademoiselle and M. Lucienwere wondering what could be the matter with him. He seems to be on theeve of giving way to a burst of anger; and there is a wild, strange lookabout his eyes, especially when he looks at madame. Yesterday evening,when M. de Clameran was announced, he jumped up, and hurried out of theroom, saying that he had some work to do in his study."
A triumphant exclamation from M. Verduret interrupted Mme. Gypsy. He wasradiant.
"Hein!" he said to Prosper, forgetting his bad humor of a few minutesbefore; "Hein! What did I tell you?"
"He has evidently----"
"Been afraid to give way to his first impulse; of course he has. He isnow seeking for proofs of your assertions. He must have them by thistime. Did the ladies go out yesterday?"
"Yes, a part of the day."
"What became of M. Fauvel?"
"The ladies took me with them; we left M. Fauvel at home."
"Not a doubt of it!" cried the fat man; "he looked for proofs, and foundthem, too! Your letter told him exactly where to go. Ah, Prosper, thatunfortunate letter gives more trouble than everything else together."
These words seemed to throw a sudden light on Mme. Gypsy's mind.
"I understand it now!" she exclaimed. "M. Fauvel knows everything."
"That is, he thinks he knows everything; and what he has been led tofear, and thinks he has discovered, is worse than the true state ofaffairs."
"That accounts for the order which M. Cavaillon overheard him give tohis servant-man, Evariste."
"What order?"
"He told Evariste to bring every letter that came to the house, nomatter to whom addressed, into his study, and hand them to him; sayingthat, if this order was disobeyed, he should be instantly discharged."
"At what time was this order given?" asked M. Verduret.
"Yesterday afternoon."
"That is what I was afraid of," cried M. Verduret. "He has clearly madeup his mind what course to pursue, and is keeping quiet so as tomake his vengeance more sure. The question is, Have we still time tocounteract his projects? Have we time to convince him that the anonymousletter was incorrect in some of its assertions?"
He tried to hit upon some plan for repairing the damage done byProsper's foolish letter.
"Thank you for your information, my dear child," he said after a longsilence. "I will decide at once what steps to take, for it will neverdo to sit quietly and let things go on in this way. Return home withoutdelay, and be careful of everything you say and do; for M. Fauvelsuspects you of being in the plot. Send me word of anything thathappens, no matter how insignificant it may be."
Nina, thus dismissed, did not move, but said timidly:
"What about Caldas, monsieur?"
This was the third time during the last fortnight that Prosper had heardthis name, Caldas.
The first time it had been whispered in his ear by arespectable-looking, middle-aged man, who offered his protection oneday, when passing through the police-office passage.
The second time, the judge of instruction had mentioned it in connectionwith Gypsy's history.
Prosper thought over all the men he had ever been connected with, butcould recall none named Caldas.
The impassable M. Verduret started and trembled at the mention of thisname, but, quickly recovering himself, said:
"I promised to fin
d him for you, and I will keep my promise. Now youmust go; good-morning."
It was twelve o'clock, and M. Verduret suddenly remembered that hewas hungry. He called Mme. Alexandre, and the beaming hostess of theArchangel soon placed a tempting breakfast before Prosper and hisfriend.
But the savory broiled oysters and flaky biscuit failed to smooth theperplexed brow of M. Verduret.
To the eager questions and complimentary remarks of Mme. Alexandre, heanswered:
"Chut, chut! let me alone; keep quiet."
For the first time since he had known the fat man, Prosper saw himbetray anxiety and hesitation.
He remained silent as long as he could, and then uneasily said:
"I am afraid I have embarrassed you very much, monsieur."
"Yes, you have dreadfully embarrassed me," replied M. Verduret. "What onearth to do now, I don't know! Shall I hasten matters, or keep quiet andwait for the next move? And I am bound by a sacred promise. Come, we hadbetter go and advise with the judge of instruction. He can assist me.Come with me; let us hurry."