CHAPTER XIX.
MASCARIN SPEAKS.
This was the conclusion of the manuscript handed by Mascarin to PaulViolaine, and the young man laid down the roll of paper with the remark,"And that is all."
He had consumed six hours in reading this sad account of the follies andcrimes of the owners of illustrious names.
Mascarin had listened with the complacency of an author who hears hisown work read aloud to him, but all the while he was keenly watching himbeneath his spectacles and the faces of his companions. The effect thatwas produced was immense, and exactly what he had anticipated. Paul,Hortebise, and Catenac gazed upon each other with faces in whichastonishment at the strange recital, and then at the power of the manwho had collected these facts together, were mingled, and Catenac wasthe first who spoke. The sound of his own voice seemed gradually todispel the vague sense of apprehension that hung about the office.
"Aha!" cried he, "I always said that our old friend Mascarin wouldmake his mark in literature. As soon as his pen touches the paper thebusiness man vanishes; we have no longer a collection of dry facts andproofs, but the stirring pages of a sensational novel."
"Do you really consider that as a mere romance?" asked Hortebise.
"It reads like one certainly; you must allow that."
"Catenac," remarked Mascarin in his bitterly sarcastic tone, "is bestable to pronounce upon the truth or falsehood of this narrative, as heis the professional adviser of this same Duke de Champdoce, the veryNorbert whose life has just been read to you."
"I do not deny that there is some slight foundation to it," returned thelawyer.
"Then what is it that you do deny?"
"Nothing, nothing; I merely objected, more in jest than otherwise, tothe sentimental manner in which you have set forward your case."
"Catenac," remarked Mascarin, addressing the others, "has received manyconfidential communications from his noble client, which he has notthought fit to communicate to us; and though he fancied that we weredrifting into quicksands and among breakers, he displayed no signal ofwarning to save us from our danger, hoping, like a true friend, that, bythis means, he might get rid of us."
Catenac began to utter protestations and denials, but Mascarin cut himshort with an imperative gesture, and, after a long pause, he againcommenced,--
"You must understand that my inquisitors have had but little to do inthis affair, for my work has chiefly consisted in putting fragmentstogether. It is not to me that you are indebted for the sensational(I think that that was the term used) part of my story, but rather toMadame de Mussidan and Norbert de Champdoce. I am sure that some of thephrases must have struck you considerably."
"It seems to me," objected Catenac--
"Perhaps," broke in Mascarin, "you have forgotten the correspondencewhich the Countess de Mussidan preserved so carefully--both his lettersand her own, which Norbert returned to her."
"And we have those?"
"Of course we have, only there is a perfect romance contained in theseletters. What I have read is a mere bald extract from them; and thisis not all. The man who assisted me in the unravelling of this darkintrigue was the original promoter--Daumon."
"What, is the Counsellor still alive?"
"Certainly, and you know him. He is not quite in his first youth, andhas aged somewhat, but his intellect is as brilliant as ever."
Catenac grew serious. "You tell me a great deal," said he.
"I can tell you even more. I can tell you that the account of thedeed was written under the dictation of Caroline Schimmel," broke inMascarin. "This unlucky woman started for Havre, intending to sail forthe United States, but she got no further than that seaport town, forthe good looks and the persuasive tongue of a sailor induced her toalter her plans. As long as her money lasted he remained an ardentlover, but vanished with the disappearance of her last thousand-francnote. Starving and poverty-stricken, Caroline returned to Paris and tothe Duke de Champdoce, who accepted her constant demands for money as apenitent expiation of his crime. But she remained faithful to her oath;and had it not been for her terrible propensity for drink, Tantainewould never have succeeded in extracting her secret from her. If, onher recovery from her fit of drunk coma, she recollects what has takenplace, she will, if I read her character right, go straight to the Dukede Champdoce and tell him that his secret has passed into better hands."
At this idea being promulgated, Catenac started from his chair with aloud oath.
"Did you think," asked Mascarin, "that I should feel so much at my easeif I found that there was the slightest risk? Let us consider what itis that Caroline can say. Who is it that she can accuse of having stolenher secret from her? Why, only a poor old wretch named Tantaine. How canthe Duke possibly trace any connection between this miserable writer andCatenac?"
"Yes, I think that it would be a difficult task."
"Besides," pursued Mascarin, "what have we to fear from the Duke deChampdoce? Nothing, as far as I can see. Is he not as much in our poweras the woman he formerly loved--Diana de Mussidan? Do we not hold theletters of both of them, and do we not know in what corner of his gardento dig to discover a damning piece of evidence? Remember that there willbe no difficulty in identifying the skeleton, for at the time of hisdisappearance, Croisenois had about him several Spanish doubloons, afact which was given to the police."
"Well," said Catenac, "I will act faithfully. Tell me your plans, and Iwill let you know all that I hear from the Duke."
For a moment a smile hovered upon Mascarin's lips, for this time heplaced firm reliance upon the good faith of the lawyer.
"Before we go further," said he, "let me conclude this narrative whichPaul has just read. It is sad and simple. The united ages of the Dukeand Duchess did not exceed fifty years; they had unlimited wealth, andbore one of the grandest historic names of France; they were surroundedwith every appliance of luxury, and yet their lives were a perfectwreck. They simply dragged on an existence and had lost all hopes ofhappiness, but they made up their minds to conceal the skeleton of theirhouse in the darkest cupboard, and the world knew nothing of their innerlife. The Duchess suffered much in health, and merely went out to visitthe sick and poor. The Duke worked hard to make up for the deficienciesof his early education, and made a name and reputation throughoutEurope."
"And how about Madame de Mussidan?" asked Catenac.
"I am coming to that," returned Mascarin. "With that strangedetermination that fills the hearts of our women, she did not considerher revenge complete until Norbert learned that she was the soleinstrument in heaping the crowning sorrow of his life on his head; andon her return from Italy, she sent for him and told him everything. Yes,she absolutely had the audacity to tell him that it was she who had doneher best to throw his wife into De Croisenois' arms. She told him thatit was she who had worked the arrangements for the meeting, and hadwritten the anonymous letter."
"Why did he not kill her?" cried Hortebise. "Had she not all hisletters, and taunted him with the production of them? Ah, my dearfriends, do not let us flatter ourselves that we have the sole monopolyof blackmailing. The high-born Countess plunged her hand into the Duke'scoffers just as if she had been a mere adventuress. It is only ten daysago that she borrowed--you will observe the entry of it as a loan--alarge sum to settle an account of Van Klopen's. But let us now speak ofthe child who took the place of the boy whom the Duchess brought intothe world. You know him, doctor?"
"Yes, I have often seen him. He was a good-looking young fellow."
"He was, but he was a degraded scoundrel, after all. He was educatedand brought up without regard to expense, but he always displayed lowtastes, and, had he lived, would have brought discredit on the name hebore. He was a thorn in the side of the Duke and Duchess, and I believethat they felt great relief when he died of brain fever, brought on by adrunken debauch. His parents, or those whom he supposed to be such, werepresent at his death-bed, for they had learned to consider their sorrowsas the just chastisement of heaven. The bo
y having died, the family ofChampdoce seemed likely to become extinct, and then it was that Norbertdecided to do what his wife had long urged upon him, to seek for andreclaim the child which he had caused to be placed in the FoundlingHospital at Vendome. It went against his pride to diverge from thecourse he had determined on as best, but doubts had arisen in his mindas to his wife's guilt, and Diana's confessions had reassured him as tothe paternity of the missing boy. It was thus with hope in his heart,and furnished with every necessary document, that he started forVendome; but there a terrible disappointment awaited him. Theauthorities of the hospital, on consulting the register, found that achild had been admitted on the day and hour mentioned by Norbert, andthat his description of the infant's clothing tallied exactly with theentries. But the child was no longer in the hospital, and there was noclue to his whereabouts. He had, at the age of twelve, been apprenticedto a tanner, but he had run away from his master, and the most activeand energetic search had failed to arrest the fugitive."
Catenac listened to all these exact details with an unpleasant feelinggnawing at his heart, for he saw that his associates knew everything,and he had relied upon again securing their confidence by furnishingthem with those details which were evidently already known to them.Mascarin, however, affected not to notice his surprise, and went on withhis narrative.
"This terrible disappointment will certainly kill the Duke de Champdoce.It seemed to him that after having so bitterly expiated the crimes andfollies of his youth, he might hope to have his old age in peaceand quiet, with a son who might cheer the loneliness of his desolatefireside. His countenance, as soon as he appeared before the Duchess,who had been expecting his return in an agony of anguish and suspense,told her at once that all hope had fled. In a few days, however, theDuke had perfectly recovered from the shock, and had decided that togive up the search would be an act of madness. The world is wide, anda friendless boy, without a name, difficult to trace; but, with amplefunds, almost anything can be done, and he was willing to sacrifice bothlife and fortune to attain his object. So immense were his resources,that it was easy for him to employ the most skilful detectives; andwhatever the result might be, he had come to look upon this task as asacred duty to which he ought to devote all the remaining years of hislife. He swore that he would never rest or cease from his search untilhe had been furnished with the indisputable proofs of the existenceor the death of his son. He did not confide all this project to theDuchess; for he feared--and he had by this time learned to have someconsideration for her enfeebled frame--her health had given way socompletely that any extra degree of excitement might prove fatal to her.He, therefore, as a preliminary, applied to that element which in theRue de Jerusalem acts as the terrestrial guardians of society. But thepolice could do nothing for the Duke. They heard what he had to saygravely, took notes, told him to call again later on, and there was anend to their proceedings. It can easily be understood that the rank andposition of the Duke prevented him from making his name known in hisinquiries; and as he dared not divulge the whole truth, he gave such abald version of the case, that it excited no deep feelings of interest.At last he was sent to a certain M. Lecoq."
To Paul's utter astonishment, the name produced a sudden and terribleeffect upon Doctor Hortebise, who started to his feet as if propelledfrom his chair by the unexpected application of some hidden motivepower, and, fingering the locket that hung from his chain, gazed roundupon his associates with wild and excited eyes.
"Stop!" cried he. "If that fellow Lecoq is to put his nose into yourcase, I withdraw; I will have nothing to do with it, for it is certainto be a failure."
He appeared to be so thoroughly frightened, that Catenac condescended tosmile.
"Yes, yes," said he, "I can understand your alarm; but be at ease; Lecoqhas nothing to do with us."
But Hortebise was not satisfied with Catenac's assurance, and looked forconfirmation from Mascarin.
"Lecoq has nothing to do with us," repeated his friend. "The foolsaid that his position prevented him from giving his time to anyinvestigation of a private nature, which, by the way, is quite true.The Duke offered him a heavy sum to throw up his appointment, buthe refused, saying he did not work for money, but from love for hisprofession."
"Which is quite true," interrupted Catenac.
"However," continued Mascarin, "to cut short my narrative, the Duke, onthe refusal of Lecoq to act, applied to Catenac."
"Yes," answered the lawyer, "and the Duke has placed the conduct of thesearch in my hands."
"Have you formed any plan of action?"
"Not at present. The Duke said, 'Ask every living soul in the world,if you can succeed in no other way'; this is all the instruction he hasgiven me; and," added he, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, "I amalmost of Perpignan's opinion, that the search will be a fruitless one."
"Lecoq did not think so."
"He only said that he believed he should succeed if he were to take itin hand."
"Well," answered Mascarin coldly, "I have been certain of success fromthe very commencement."
"Have you been to Vendome?" asked Catenac.
"Never mind, I have been somewhere, and at this very moment could placemy hand upon the shoulder of the heir to the dukedom of Champdoce."
"Are you in earnest?"
"I was never more in earnest in my life. I have found him; only as it isimpossible for me to appear in the matter, I shall delegate to you andPerpignan the happiness of restoring the lost son to his father's arms."
Catenac glanced from Mascarin to Hortebise, and from them to Paul, andseemed to wish to be certain that he was not being made an object ofridicule.
"And why do you not wish to appear in the matter?" asked he at last, ina suspicious tone of voice. "Do you foresee some risk, and want me tobear the brunt?"
Mascarin shrugged his shoulders.
"First," said he, "I am not a traitor, as you know well enough; andthen the interests of all of us depend on your safety. Can one of us becompromised without endangering his associates? You know that thisis impossible. All you have to do is to point out where the tracescommence; others will follow them at their own risk, and all you willhave to do will be to look calmly on."
"But--"
Mascarin lost his patience, and with a deep frown, replied,--
"That is enough. We require no more argument, I am the master, and it isfor you to obey."
When Mascarin adopted this tone, resistance was out of the question; andas he invariably made all yield to him, it was best to obey with a goodgrace, and Catenac relapsed into silence, completely subjugated and verymuch puzzled.
"Sit down at my desk," continued Mascarin, "and take careful notes ofwhat I now say. Success is, as I have told you, inevitable, but I mustbe ably backed. All now depends upon your exactitude in obeying myorders; one false step may ruin us all. You have heard this, and cannotsay that you are not fully warned."