VIII
In the Rue St. Gilles the hours were dragging, slow and gloomy.After Maxence had left to go and meet M. de Tregars, Mme. Favoraland her daughter had remained alone with M. Chapelain, and had beencompelled to bear the brunt of his wrath, and to hear hisinterminable complaints.
He was certainly an excellent man, that old lawyer, and too just tohold Mlle. Gilberte or her mother responsible for Vincent Favoral'sacts. He spoke the truth when he assured them that he had for thema sincere affection, and that they might rely upon his devotion.But he was losing a hundred and sixty thousand francs; and a manwho loses such a large sum is naturally in bad humor, and not muchdisposed to optimism.
The cruellest enemies of the poor women would not have torturedthem so mercilessly as this devoted friend.
He spared them not one sad detail of that meeting at the MutualCredit office, from which he had just come. He exaggerated theproud assurance of the manager, and the confiding simplicity of thestockholders. "That Baron de Thaller," he said to them, "iscertainly the most impudent scoundrel and the cleverest rascal Ihave ever seen. You'll see that he'll get out of it with cleanhands and full pockets. Whether or not he has accomplices, Vincentwill be the scapegoat. We must make up our mind to that."
His positive intention was to console Mme. Favoral and Gilberte.Had he sworn to drive them to distraction, he could not havesucceeded better.
"Poor woman!" he said, "what is to become of you? Maxence is agood and honest fellow, I am sure, but so weak, so thoughtless, sofond of pleasure! He finds it difficult enough to get along byhimself. Of what assistance will he be to you?"
Then came advice.
Mme. Favoral, he declared, should not hesitate to ask for aseparation, which the tribunal would certainly grant. For wantof this precaution, she would remain all her life under the burdenof her husband's debts, and constantly exposed to the annoyances ofthe creditors.
And always he wound up by saying,
"Who could ever have expected such a thing from Vincent,--a friendof twenty years' standing! A hundred and sixty thousand francs!Who in the world can be trusted hereafter?"
Big tears were rolling slowly down Mme. Favoral's withered cheeks.But Mlle. Gilberte was of those for whom the pity of others is theworst misfortune and the most acute suffering.
Twenty times she was on the point of exclaiming,
"Keep your compassion, sir: we are neither so much to be pitied norso much forsaken as you think. Our misfortune has revealed to us atrue friend,--one who does not speak, but acts."
At last, as twelve o'clock struck, M. Chapelain withdrew, announcingthat he would return the next day to get the news, and to bringfurther consolation.
"Thank Heaven, we are alone at last!" said Mlle. Gilberte.
But they had not much peace, for all that.
Great as had been the noise of Vincent Favoral's disaster, it hadnot reached at once all those who had intrusted their savings to him.All day long, the belated creditors kept coming in; and the scenesof the morning were renewed on a smaller scale. Then legal summonsesbegan to pour in, three or four at a time. Mme. Favoral was losingall courage.
"What disgrace!" she groaned. "Will it always be so hereafter?"
And she exhausted herself in useless conjectures upon the causes ofthe catastrophe; and such was the disorder of her mind, that sheknew not what to hope and what to fear, and that from one minute toanother she wished for the most contradictory things.
She would have been glad to hear that her husband was safe out ofthe country, and yet she would have deemed herself less miserable,had she known that he was hid somewhere in Paris.
And obstinately the same questions returned to her lips,
"Where is he now? What is he doing? What is he thinking about?How can he leave us without news? Is it possible that it is awoman who has driven him into the precipice? And, if so, who isthat woman?"
Very different were Mlle. Gilberte's thoughts.
The great calamity that befell her family had brought about thesudden realization of her hopes. Her father's disaster had givenher an opportunity to test the man she loved; and she had foundhim even superior to all that she could have dared to dream. Thename of Favoral was forever disgraced; but she was going to bethe wife of Marius, Marquise de Tregars.
And, in the candor of her loyal soul, she accused herself of nottaking enough interest in her mother's grief, and reproachedherself for the quivers of joy which she felt within her.
"Where is Maxence?" asked Mme. Favoral.
"Where is M. de Tregars? Why have they told us nothing of theirprojects?"
"They will, no doubt, come home to dinner," replied Mlle. Gilberte.
So well was she convinced of this, that she had given orders to theservant to have a somewhat better dinner than usual; and her heartwas beating at the thought of being seated near Marius, between hermother and her brother.
At about six o'clock, the bell rang violently.
"There he is!" said the young girl, rising to her feet.
But no: it was only the porter, bringing up a summons ordering Mme.Favoral, under penalty of the law, to appear the next day, at oneo'clock precisely, before the examining judge, Barban d'Avranchel,at his office in the Palace of Justice.
The poor woman came near fainting.
"What can this judge want with me? It ought to be forbidden tocall a wife to testify against her husband," she said.
"M. de Tregars will tell you what to answer, mamma," said Mlle.Gilberte.
Meantime, seven o'clock came, then eight, and still neither Maxencenor M. de Tregars had come.
Both mother and daughter were becoming anxious, when at last, alittle before nine, they heard steps in the hall.
Marius de Tregars appeared almost immediately.
He was pale; and his face bore the trace of the crushing fatigues ofthe day, of the cares which oppressed him, of the reflections whichhad been suggested to his mind by the quarrel of which he had nearlybeen the victim a few moments since.
"Maxence is not here?" he asked at once.
"We have not seen him," answered Mlle. Gilberte.
He seemed so much surprised, that Mme. Favoral was frightened.
"What is the matter again, good God!" she exclaimed.
"Nothing, madame," said M. de Tregars,--"nothing that should alarmyou. Compelled, about two hours ago, to part from Maxence, I was tohave met him here. Since he has not come, he must have beendetained. I know where; and I will ask your permission to run andjoin him."
He went out; but Mlle. Gilberte followed him in the hall, and,taking his hand,
"How kind of you!" she began, "and how can we ever sufficientlythank you?"
He interrupted her.
"You owe me no thanks, my beloved; for, in what I am doing, thereis more selfishness than you think. It is my own cause, more thanyours, that I am defending. Any way, every thing is going on well."
And, without giving any more explanations, he started again. Hehad no doubt that Maxence, after leaving him, had run to the Hoteldes Folies to give to Mlle. Lucienne an account of the day's work.And, though somewhat annoyed that he had tarried so long, on secondthought, he was not surprised.
It was, therefore, to the Hotel des Folies that he was going. Nowthat he had unmasked his batteries and begun the struggle, he wasnot sorry to meet Mlle. Lucienne.
In less than five minutes he had reached the Boulevard du Temple.In front of the Fortins' narrow corridor a dozen idlers werestanding, talking.
M. de Tregars was listening as he went along.
"It is a frightful accident," said one,--"such a pretty girl, andso young too!"
"As to me," said another, "it is the driver that I pity the most;for after all, if that pretty miss was in that carriage, it was forher own pleasure; whereas, the poor coachman was only attending tohis business."
A confused presentiment oppressed M. de Tregars' heart. Addressinghimself to one of those worthy citizens,
&n
bsp; "Have you heard any particulars?"
Flattered by the confidence,
"Certainly I have," he replied. "I didn't see the thing with myown proper eyes; but my wife did. It was terrible. The carriage,a magnificent private carriage too, came from the direction of theMadeleine. The horses had run away; and already there had been anaccident in the Place du Chateau d'Eau, where an old woman had beenknocked down. Suddenly, here, over there, opposite the toy-shop,which is mine, by the way, the wheel of the carriage catches intothe wheel of an enormous truck; and at once, palata! the coachmanis thrown down, and so is the lady, who was inside,--a verypretty girl, who lives in this hotel."
Leaving there the obliging narrator, M. de Tregars rushed throughthe narrow corridor of the Hotel des Folies. At the moment whenhe reached the yard, he found himself in presence of Maxence.
Pale, his head bare, his eyes wild, shaking with a nervous chill,the poor fellow looked like a madman. Noticing M. de Tregars,
"Ah, my friend!" he exclaimed, "what misfortune!"
"Lucienne?"
"Dead, perhaps. The doctor will not answer for her recovery. Iam going to the druggist's to get a prescription."
He was interrupted by the commissary of police, whose kindprotection had hitherto preserved Mlle. Lucienne. He was comingout of the little room on the ground-floor, which the Fortins usedfor an office, bedroom, and dining-room.
He had recognized Marius de Tregars, and, coming up to him, hepressed his hand, saying, "Well, you know?"
"Yes."
"It is my fault, M. le Marquis; for we were fully notified. I knewso well that Mlle. Lucienne's existence was threatened, I was sofully expecting a new attempt upon her life, that, whenever she wentout riding, it was one of my men, wearing a footman's livery, whotook his seat by the side of the coachman. To-day my man was sobusy, that I said to myself, 'Bash, for once!' And behold theconsequences!"
It was with inexpressible astonishment that Maxence was listening.It was with a profound stupor that he discovered between Marius andthe commissary that serious intimacy which is the result of longintercourse, real esteem, and common hopes.
"It is not an accident, then," remarked M. de Tregars.
"The coachman has spoken, doubtless?"
"No: the wretch was killed on the spot."
And, without waiting for another question,
"But don't let us stay here," said the commissary.
"Whilst Maxence runs to the drug-store, let us go into the Fortins'office."
The husband was alone there, the wife being at that moment withMlle. Lucienne.
"Do me the favor to go and take a walk for about fifteen minutes,"said the commissary to him. "We have to talk, this gentleman andmyself."
Humbly, without a word, and like a man who does himself justice,M. Fortin slipped off.
And at once,--"It is clear, M. le Marquis, it is manifest, that acrime has been committed. Listen, and judge for yourself. I wasjust rising from dinner, when I was notified of what was calledour poor Lucienne's accident. Without even changing my clothes, Iran. The carriage was lying in the street, broken to pieces. Twopolicemen were holding the horses, which had been stopped. Iinquire. I learn that Lucienne, picked up by Maxence, has been ableto drag herself as far as the Hotel des Folies, and that the driverhas been taken to the nearest drug-store. Furious at my ownnegligence, and tormented by vague suspicions, it is to the druggist'sthat I go first, and in all haste. The driver was in a backroom,stretched on a mattress.
"His head having struck the angle of the curbstone, his skull wasbroken; and he had just breathed his last. It was, apparently, theannihilation of the hope which I had, of enlightening myself byquestioning this man. Nevertheless, I give orders to have himsearched. No paper is discovered upon him to establish his identity;but, in one of the pockets of his pantaloons, do you know what theyfind? Two bank-notes of a thousand francs each, carefully wrappedup in a fragment of newspaper."
M. de Tregars had shuddered.
"What a revelation!" he murmured.
It was not to the present circumstance that he applied that word.But the commissary naturally mistook him.
"Yes," he went on, "it was a revelation. To me these two thousandfrancs were worth a confession: they could only be the wages of acrime. So, without losing a moment, I jump into a cab, and drive toBrion's. Everybody was upside down, because the horses had justbeen brought back. I question; and, from the very first words, thecorrectness of my presumption is demonstrated to me. The wretch whohad just died was not one of Brion's coachmen. This is what hadhappened. At two o'clock, when the carriage ordered by M. VanKlopen was ready to go for Mlle. Lucienne, they had been compelledto send for the driver and the footman, who had forgotten themselvesdrinking in a neighboring wine-shop, with a man who had called tosee them in the morning. They were slightly under the influence ofwine, but not enough so to make it imprudent to trust them withhorses; and it was even probable that the fresh air would sober themcompletely. They had then started; but, they had not gone very far,for one of their comrades had seen them stop the carriage in frontof a wine-shop, and join there the same individual with whom theyhad been drinking all the morning."
"And who was no other than the man who was killed?"
"Wait. Having obtained this information, I get some one to take meto the wine-shop; and I ask for the coachman and the footman fromBrion's. They were there still; and they are shown to me in aprivate room, lying on the floor, fast asleep. I try to wake themup, but in vain. I order to water them freely; but a pitcher ofwater thrown on their faces has no effect, save to make them utteran inarticulate groan. I guess at once what they have taken. Isend for a physician, and I call on the wine-merchant forexplanations. It is his wife and his barkeeper who answer me.They tell me, that, at about two o'clock, a man came in the shop,who stated that he was employed at Brion's, and who ordered threeglasses for himself and two comrades, whom he was expecting.
"A few moments later, a carriage stops at the door; and the driverand the footman leave it to come in. They were in a great hurry,they said, and only wished to take one glass. They do take three,one after another; then they order a bottle. They were evidentlyforgetting their horses, which they had given to hold to acommissionaire. Soon the man proposes a game. The others accept;and here they are, settled in the back-room, knocking on the tablefor sealed wine. The game must have lasted at least twenty minutes.At the end of that time, the man who had come in first appeared,looking very much annoyed, saying that it was very unpleasant, thathis comrades were dead drunk, that they will miss their work, andthat the boss, who is anxious to please his customers, willcertainly dismiss them. Although he had taken as much, and morethan the rest, he was perfectly steady; and, after reflecting fora moment,--'I have an idea,' he says. 'Friends should help eachother, shouldn't they? I am going to take the coachman's livery,and drive in his stead. I happen to know the customer they weregoing after. She is a very kind old lady, and I'll tell her astory to explain the absence of the footman.'
"Convinced that the man is in Brion's employment, they have noobjection to offer to this fine project.
"The brigand puts on the livery of the sleeping coachman, gets upon the box, and starts off, after stating that he will return forhis comrades as soon as he has got through the job, and thatdoubtless they will be sober by that time."
M. de Tregars knew well enough the savoir-faire of the commissarynot to be surprised at his promptness in obtaining precise information.
Already he was going on,
"Just as I was closing my examination, the doctor arrived. I showhim my drunkards; and at once he recognizes that I have guessedcorrectly, and that these men have been put asleep by means of oneof those narcotics of which certain thieves make use to rob theirvictims. A potion, which he administers to them by forcing theirteeth open with a knife, draws them from this lethargy. They opentheir eyes, and soon are in condition to reply to my questions.They are furious at
the trick that has been played upon them; butthey do not know the man. They saw him, they swear to me, for thefirst time that very morning; and they are ignorant even of hisname."
There was no doubt possible after such complete explanations. Thecommissary had seen correctly, and he proved it.
It was not of a vulgar accident that Mlle. Lucienne had just beenthe victim, but of a crime laboriously conceived, and executed withunheard-of audacity,--of one of those crimes such as too many arecommitted, whose combinations, nine times out of ten, set asideeven a suspicion, and foil all the efforts of human justice.
M. de Tregars knew now what had taken place, as clearly as if hehad himself received the confession of the guilty parties.
A man had been found to execute that perilous programme,--to makethe horses run away, and then to run into some heavy wagon. Thewretch was staking his life on that game; it being evident thatthe light carriage must be smashed in a thousand pieces. But hemust have relied upon his skill and his presence of mind, to avoidthe shock, to jump off safe and sound; whilst Mlle. Lucienne,thrown upon the pavement, would probably be killed on the spot.The event had deceived his expectations, and he had been the victimof his rascality; but his death was a misfortune.
"Because now," resumed the commissary, "the thread is broken in ourhands which would infallibly have led us to the truth. Who is itthat ordered the crime, and paid for it? We know it, since we knowwho benefits by the crime. But that is not sufficient. Justicerequires something more than moral proofs. Living, this banditwould have spoken. His death insures the impunity of the wretchesof whom he was but the instrument."
"Perhaps," said M. Tregars.
And at the same time he took out of his pocket, and showed the notefound in Vincent Favoral's pocket-book,--that note, so obscure theday before, now so terribly clear.
"I cannot understand your negligence. You should get through withthat Van Klopen affair: there is the danger."
The commissary of police cast but a glance upon it, and, replyingto the objections of his old experience rather more than addressinghimself to M. de Tregars,
"There can be no doubt about it," he murmured. "It is to the crimecommitted to-day that these pressing recommendations relate; and,directed as they are to Vincent Favoral, they attest his complicity.It was he who had charge of finishing the Van Klopen affair; in otherwords, to get rid of Lucienne. It was he, I'd wager my head, whohad treated with the false coachman."
He remained for over a minute absorbed in his own thoughts, then,
"But who is the author of these recommendations to Vincent Favoral?Do you know that, M. le Marquis?" he said.
They looked at each other; and the same name rose to their lips,
"The Baroness de Thaller!"
This name, however, they did not utter.
The commissary had placed himself under the gasburner which gavelight to the Fortin's office; and, adjusting his glasses, he wasscrutinizing the note with the most minute attention, studying thegrain and the transparency of the paper, the ink, and thehandwriting. And at last,
"This note," he declared, "cannot constitute a proof against itsauthor: I mean an evident, material proof, such as we require toobtain from a judge an order of arrest."
And, as Marius was protesting,
"This note," he insisted, "is written with the left hand, withcommon ink, on ordinary foolscap paper, such as is found everywhere.Now all left-hand writings look alike. Draw your own conclusions."
But M. de Tregars did not give it up yet.
"Wait a moment," he interrupted.
And briefly, though with the utmost exactness, he began telling hisvisit to the Thaller mansion, his conversation with Mlle. Cesarine,then with the baroness, and finally with the baron himself.
He described in the most graphic manner the scene which had takenplace in the grand parlor between Mme. de Thaller and a worse thansuspicious-looking man,--that scene, the secret of which had beenrevealed to him in its minutest details by the looking-glass. Itsmeaning was now as clear as day.
This suspicious-looking man had been one of the agents in arrangingthe intended murder: hence the agitation of the baroness when shehad received his card, and her haste to join him. If she hadstarted when he first spoke to her, it was because he was tellingher of the successful execution of the crime. If she had afterwardsmade a gesture of joy, it was because he had just informed her thatthe coachman had been killed at the same time, and that she foundherself thus rid of a dangerous accomplice.
The commissary of police shook his head.
"All this is quite probable," he murmured; "but that's all."
Again M. de Tregars stopped him.
"I have not done yet," he said.
And he went on saying how he had been suddenly and brutallyassaulted by an unknown man in a restaurant; how he had collaredthis abject scoundrel, and taken out of his pocket a crushing letter,which left no doubt as to the nature of his mission.
The commissary's eyes were sparkling,
"That letter!" he exclaimed, "that letter!" And, as soon as he hadlooked over it,
"Ah! This time," he resumed, "I think that we have somethingtangible. 'A troublesome gentleman to keep quiet,'--the Marquisde Tregars, of course, who is on the right track. 'It will be foryou the matter of a sword-thrust.' Naturally, dead men tell notales. 'It will be for us the occasion of dividing a round amount.'An honest trade, indeed!"
The good man was rubbing his hand with all his might.
"At last we have a positive fact," he went on,--"a foundation uponwhich to base our accusations. Don't be uneasy. That letter isgoing to place into our hands the scoundrel who assaulted you,--whowill make known the go-between, who himself will not fail tosurrender the Baroness de Thaller. Lucienne shall be avenged. Ifwe could only now lay our hands on Vincent Favoral! But we'll findhim yet. I set two fellows after him this afternoon, who have asuperior scent, and understand their business."
He was here interrupted by Maxence, who was returning all out ofbreath, holding in his hand the medicines which he had gone after.
"I thought that druggist would never get through," he said.
And regretting to have remained away so long, feeling uneasy, andanxious to return up stairs,
"Don't you wish to see Lucienne?" he added, addressing himself to M.de Tregars rather more than to the commissary.
For all answer, they followed him at once.
A cheerless-looking place was Mlle. Lucienne's room, without anyfurniture but a narrow iron bedstead, a dilapidated bureau, fourstraw-bottomed chairs, and a small table. Over the bed, and atthe windows, were white muslin curtains, with an edging that hadonce been blue, but had become yellow from repeated washings.
Often Maxence had begged his friend to take a more comfortablelodging, and always she had refused.
"We must economize," she would say. "This room does well enoughfor me; and, besides, I am accustomed to it."
When M. de Tregars and the commissary walked in, the estimablehostess of the Hotel des Folies was kneeling in front of the fire,preparing some medicine.
Hearing the footsteps, she got up, and, with a finger upon herlips,
"Hush!" she said. "Take care not to wake her up!" The precautionwas useless.
"I am not asleep," said Mlle. Lucienne in a feeble voice. "Whois there?"
"I," replied Maxence, advancing towards the bed.
It was only necessary to see the poor girl in order to understandMaxence's frightful anxiety. She was whiter than the sheet; andfever, that horrible fever which follows severe wounds, gave to hereyes a sinister lustre.
"But you are not alone," she said again.
"I am with him, my child," replied the commissary. "I come to begyour pardon for having so badly protected you."
She shook her head with a sad and gentle motion.
"It was myself who lacked prudence," she said; "for to-day, whileout, I thought I noticed something wrong; but it looked so foolishto be af
raid! If it had not happened to-day, it would have happenedsome other day. The villains who have been pursuing me for yearsmust be satisfied now. They will soon be rid of me."
"Lucienne," said Maxence in a sorrowful tone.
M. de Tregars now stepped forward.
"You shall live, mademoiselle," he uttered in a grave voice. "Youshall live to learn to love life."
And, as she was looking at him in surprise,
"You do not know me," he added.
Timidly, and as if doubting the reality,
"You," she said, "the Marquis de Tregars!"
"Yes, mademoiselle, your brother."
Had he had the control of events, Marius de Tregars would probablynot have been in such haste to reveal this fact.
But how could he control himself in presence of that bed where apoor girl was, perhaps, about to die, sacrificed to the terrorsand to the cravings of the miserable woman who was her mother,--todie at twenty, victim of the basest and most odious of crimes? Howcould he help feeling an intense pity at the sight of thisunfortunate young woman who had endured every thing that a humanbeing can suffer, whose life had been but a long and painfulstruggle, whose courage had risen above all the woes of adversity,and who had been able to pass without a stain through the mud andmire of Paris.
Besides, Marius was not one of those men who mistrust their firstimpulse, who manifest their emotion only for a purpose, who reflectand calculate before giving themselves up to the inspirations oftheir heart.
Lucienne was the daughter of the Marquis de Tregars: of that he wasabsolutely certain. He knew that the same blood flowed in his veinsand in hers; and he told her so.
He told her so, above all, because he believed her in danger; andhe wished, were she to die, that she should have, at least, thatsupreme joy. Poor Lucienne! Never had she dared to dream of suchhappiness. All her blood rushed to her cheeks; and, in a voicevibrating with the most intense emotion,
"Ah, now, yes," she uttered, "I would like to live."
The commissary of police, also, felt moved.
"Do not be alarmed, my child," he said in his kindest tone."Before two weeks you will be up. M. de Tregars is a greatphysician."
In the mean time, she had attempted to raise herself on her pillow;and that simple effort had wrung from her a cry of anguish.
"Dear me! How I do suffer!"
"That's because you won't keep quiet, my darling," said Mme. Fortinin a tone of gentle scolding. "Have you forgotten that the doctorhas expressly forbidden you to stir?"
Then taking aside the commissary, Maxence, and M. de Tregars, sheexplained to them how imprudent it was to disturb Mlle. Lucienne'srest. She was very ill, affirmed the worthy hostess; and her advicewas, that they should send for a sick-nurse as soon as possible.
She would have been extremely happy, of course, to spend the nightby the side of her dear lodger; but, unfortunately, she could notthink of it, the hotel requiring all her time and attention.Fortunately, however, she knew in the neighborhood a widow, a veryhonest woman, and without her equal in taking care of the sick.
With an anxious and beseeching look, Maxence was consulting M. deTregars. In his eyes could be read the proposition that was burningupon his lips,
"Shall I not go for Gilberte?"
But that proposition he had no time to express. Though they hadbeen speaking very low, Mlle. Lucienne had heard.
"I have a friend," she said, "who would certainly be willing to situp with me."
They all went up to her.
"What friend," inquired the commissary of police.
"You know her very well, sir. It is that poor girl who had takenme home with her at Batignolles when I left the hospital, who cameto my assistance during the Commune, and whom you helped to getout of the Versailles prisons."
"Do you know what has become of her?"
"Only since yesterday, when I received a letter from her, a veryfriendly letter. She writes that she has found money to set up adressmaking establishment, and that she is relying upon me to beher forewoman. She is going to open in the Rue St. Lazare; but,in the mean time, she is stopping in the Rue du Cirque."
M. de Tregars and Maxence had started slightly.
"What is your friend's name?" they inquired at once.
Not being aware of the particulars of the two young men's visit tothe Rue du Cirque, the commissary of police could not understandthe cause of their agitation.
"I think," he said, "that it would hardly be proper now to send forthat girl."
"It is to her alone, on the contrary, that we must resort,"interrupted M. de Tregars.
And, as he had good reasons to mistrust Mme. Fortin, he took thecommissary outside the room, on the landing; and there, in a fewwords, he explained to him that this Zelie was precisely the samewoman whom they had found in the Rue du Cirque, in that sumptuousmansion where Vincent Favoral, under the simple name of Vincent, hadbeen living, according to the neighbors, in such a princely style.
The commissary of police was astounded. Why had he not known allthis sooner? Better late than never, however.
"Ah! you are right, M. le Marquis, a hundred times right!" hedeclared. "This girl must evidently know Vincent Favoral's secret,the key of the enigma that we are vainly trying to solve. Whatshe would not tell to you, a stranger, she will tell to Lucienne,her friend."
Maxence offered to go himself for Zelie Cadelle.
"No," answered Marius. "If she should happen to know you, shewould mistrust you, and would refuse to come."
It was, therefore, M. Fortin who was despatched to the Rue duCirque, and who went off muttering, though he had received fivefrancs to take a carriage, and five francs for his trouble.
"And now," said the commissary of police to Maxence, "we must bothof us get out of the way. I, because the fact of my being acommissary would frighten Mme. Cadelle; you because, being VincentFavoral's son, your presence would certainly prove embarrassingto her."
And so they went out; but M. de Tregars did not remain long alonewith Mlle. Lucienne. M. Fortin had had the delicacy not to tarryon the way.
Eleven o'clock struck as Zelie Cadelle rushed like a whirlwindinto her friend's room.
Such had been his haste, that she had given no thought whatever toher dress. She had stuck upon her uncombed hair the first bonnetshe had laid her hand upon, and thrown an old shawl over thewrapper in which she had received Marius in the afternoon.
"What, my poor Lucienne!" she exclaimed. "Are you so sick as allthat?"
But she stopped short as she recognized M. de Tregars; and, in asuspicious tone,
"What a singular meeting!" she said.
Marius bowed.
"You know Lucienne?"
What she meant by that he understood perfectly. "Lucienne is mysister, madame," he said coldly.
She shrugged her shoulders. "What humbug!"
"It's the truth," affirmed Mlle. Lucienne; "and you know that Inever lie."
Mme. Zelie was dumbfounded.
"If you say so," she muttered. "But no matter: that's queer."
M. de Tregars interrupted her with a gesture,
"And, what's more, it is because Lucienne is my sister that you seeher there lying upon that bed. They attempted to murder her to-day!"
"Oh!"
"It was her mother who tried to get rid of her, so as to possessherself of the fortune which my father had left her; and there isevery reason to believe that the snare was contrived by VincentFavoral."
Mme. Zelie did not understand very well; but, when Marius and Mlle.Lucienne had informed her of all that it was useful for her to know,
"Why," she exclaimed, "what a horrid rascal that old Vincent mustbe!"
And, as M. de Tregars remained dumb,
"This afternoon," she went on, "I didn't tell you any stories; butI didn't tell you every thing, either." She stopped; and, after amoment of deliberation,
"Well, I don't care for old Vincent," she said. "Ah! he tried tohave Lucienne
killed, did he? Well, then, I am going to tell everything I know. First of all, he wasn't any thing to me. It isn'tvery flattering; but it is so. He has never kissed so much as theend of my finger. He used to say that he loved me, but that herespected me still more, because I looked so much like a daughterhe had lost. Old humbug! And I believed him too! I did, upon myword, at least in the beginning. But I am not such a fool as Ilook. I found out very soon that he was making fun of me; and thathe was only using me as a blind to keep suspicion away from anotherwoman."
"From what woman?"
"Ah! now, I do not know! All I know is that she is married, thathe is crazy about her, and that they are to run away together."
"Hasn't he gone, then?"
Mme. Cadelle's face had become somewhat anxious, and for over aminute she seemed to hesitate.
"Do you know," she said at last, "that my answer is going to costme a lot? They have promised me a pile of money; but I haven't gotit yet. And, if I say any thing, good-by! I sha'n't have any thing."
M. de Tregars was opening his lips to tell her that she might resteasy on that score; but she cut him short.
"Well, no," she said: "Old Vincent hasn't gone. He got up a comedy,so he told me, to throw the lady's husband off the track. He sentoff a whole lot of baggage by the railroad; but he staid in Paris."
"And do you know where he is hid?"
"In the Rue St. Lazare, of course: in the apartment that I hiredtwo weeks ago."
In a voice trembling with the excitement of almost certain success,"Would you consent to take me there?" asked M. de Tregars.
"Whenever you like,--to-morrow."