File No. 113, Emile Gaboriau [ink book reader TXT] 📗

improvement in Raoul, asked her husband to give him some employment.

M. Fauvel was delighted to please his wife, and at once offered Raoul the place of corresponding clerk with a salary of five hundred francs a month.

The appointment pleased Raoul; but, in obedience to Clameran’s command, he refused it, saying his vocation was not banking.

This refusal so provoked the banker, that he told Raoul, if he was so idle and lazy, not to call on him for money again, or expect him to do anything to assist him. Raoul seized this pretext for ostensibly ceasing his visits.

When he wanted to see his mother, he would come in the afternoon, when he knew that M. Fauvel would be from home; and he only came often enough to keep informed of what was going on in the household.

This sudden lull after so many storms appeared ominous to Madeleine. She was more certain that ever that the plot was now ripe, and would suddenly burst upon them, without warning. She did not impart her presentiment to her aunt, but prepared herself for the worst.

“What can they be doing?” Mme. Fauvel would say; “can they have ceased to persecute us?”

“Yes: what can they be doing?” Madeleine would murmur.

Louis and Raoul gave no signs of life, because, like expert hunters, they were silently hiding, and watching for a favorable opportunity of pouncing upon their victims.

Never losing sight of Prosper for a day, Raoul had exhausted every effort of his fertile mind to compromise his honor, to insnare him into some inextricable entanglement. But, as he had foreseen, the cashier’s indifference offered little hope of success.

Clameran began to grow impatient at this delay, and had fully determined to bring matters to a crisis himself, when one morning, about three o’clock, he was aroused by Raoul.

He knew that some event of great importance must have happened, to make his nephew come to his house at this hour of the morning.

“What is the matter?” he anxiously inquired.

“Perhaps nothing; perhaps everything. I have just left Prosper.”

“Well?”

“I had him, Mme. Gypsy, and three other friends to dine with me. After dinner, I made up a game of baccarat, but Prosper took no interest in it, although he was quite tipsy.”

“You must be drunk yourself to come here waking me up in the middle of the night, to hear this idle gabble,” said Louis angrily. “What the devil do you mean by it?”

“Now, don’t be in a hurry; wait until you hear the rest.”

“Morbleu! speak, then!”

“After the game was over, we went to supper; Prosper became intoxicated, and betrayed the secret name with which he closes the money-safe.”

At these words Clameran uttered a cry of triumph.

“What was the word?”

“The name of his friend.”

“Gypsy! Yes, that would be five letters.”

Louis was so excited that he jumped out of bed, slipped on his dressing-gown, and began to stride up and down the chamber.

“Now we have got him!” he said with vindictive satisfaction. “There’s no chance of escape for him now! Ah, the virtuous cashier won’t touch the money confided to him: so we must touch it for him. The disgrace will be just as great, no matter who opens the safe. We have the word; you know where the key is kept.”

“Yes; when M. Fauvel goes out he always leaves the key in the drawer of his secretary, in his chamber.”

“Very good. Go and get this key from Mme. Fauvel. If she does not give it up willingly, use force: so that you get it, that is the point; then open the safe, and take out every franc it contains. Ah, Master Bertomy, you shall pay dear for being loved by the woman whom I love!”

For five minutes Clameran indulged in such a tirade of abuse against Prosper, mingled with rhapsodies of love for Madeleine, that Raoul thought him almost out of his mind.

“Before crying victory,” he said, “you had better consider the drawbacks and difficulties. Prosper might change the word to-morrow.”

“Yes, he might; but it is not probable he will; he will forget what he said while drunk; besides, we can hasten matters.”

“That is not all. M. Fauvel has given orders that no large sum shall be kept in the safe over-night; before closing the bank everything is sent to the Bank of France.”

“A large sum will be kept there the night I choose.”

“You think so?”

“I think this: I have a hundred thousand crowns deposited with M. Fauvel: and if I desire the money to be paid over to me early some morning, directly the bank is opened, of course the money will be kept in the safe the previous night.”

“A splendid idea!” cried Raoul admiringly.

It was a good idea; and the plotters spent several hours in studying its strong and weak points.

Raoul feared that he would never be able to overcome Mme. Fauvel’s resistance. And, even if she yielded the key, would she not go directly and confess everything to her husband? She was fond of Prosper, and would hesitate a long time before sacrificing him.

But Louis felt no uneasiness on this score.

“One sacrifice necessitates another,” he said: “she has made too many to draw back at the last one. She sacrificed her adopted daughter; therefore she will sacrifice a young man, who is, after all, a comparative stranger to her.”

“But madame will never believe any harm of Prosper; she will always have faith in his honor; therefore—”

“You talk like an idiot, my verdant nephew!”

Before the conversation had ended, the plan seemed feasible. The scoundrels made all their arrangements, and fixed the day for committing the crime.

They selected the evening of the 7th of February, because Raoul knew that M. Fauvel would be at a bank-director’s dinner, and Madeleine was invited to a party on that evening.

Unless something unforeseen should occur, Raoul knew that he would find Mme. Fauvel alone at half-past eight o’clock.

“I will ask M. Fauvel this very day,” said Clameran, “to have my money on hand for Tuesday.”

“That is a very short notice, uncle,” objected Raoul. “You know there are certain forms to be gone through, and he can claim a longer time wherein to pay it over.”

“That is true,