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

“Bless me! I think I had cause for alarm when I could not find you anywhere. Yesterday afternoon I sent you three despatches, to the addresses you gave me, Lyons, Beaucaire, and Oloron, but received no answer. I was almost crazy with anxiety when your message reached me just 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 disarranged by lying down.

When he had finished, he threw himself in an easy-chair, and said to Joseph Dubois, who remained respectfully standing, cap in hand, like a soldier awaiting orders:

“Explain yourself, my boy, and quickly, if you please; no circumlocution.”

“It is just this, patron. I don’t know what your plans are, or what line you are taking now; but I can just tell you this: that you will have to wind up the affair pretty quickly.”

“That is your opinion, Master Joseph?”

“Yes, patron, because if you wait any longer, good-by to our covey: you will certainly find an empty cage, and the birds flown. You smile? Yes, I know you are clever, and can accomplish anything; but they are cunning blades, and as slippery as eels. They know that they are watched, too.”

“The devil they do!” cried M. Verduret. “Who has been committing blunders?”

“Oh! nobody has done anything wrong,” replied Joseph. “You know, patron, that they suspected something long ago. They gave you a proof of it, the night 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 to feel easier, when all of a sudden, yesterday, ma foi, they began to smell a rat!”

“Was that the cause of your telegrams?”

“Of course. Now listen: yesterday morning when my master got up, about ten 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 of trouble. Meanwhile, I pretended to be fixing the fire, so as to remain in the room to watch him. Patron, the man has an eye like a Yankee! At the first glance he saw, or rather divined, that his papers had been meddled 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 to his letters, I can’t imagine. You know how careful I am. I had put everything 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 a magnifying-glass, when all of a sudden he sprang up, and with one kick sent his chair across the room, and flew at me with his eyes flashing like two pistols. ‘Somebody has been at my papers,’ he shrieked; ‘this letter has been photographed!’ B-r-r-r! I am not a coward, but I can tell you that my heart stood perfectly still; I saw myself as dead as Caesar, cut into mince-meat; and says I to myself, ‘Fanfer—excuse me—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 worthy Joseph’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 not even dare to touch me. To be sure, I had taken the precaution to get out of his reach; we talked with a large table between us. While wondering what could have enabled him to discover the secret, I defended myself with virtuous indignation. I said:

“‘It cannot be; M. le marquis is mistaken. Who would dare touch his papers?’

“Bast! Instead of listening to me, he flourished an open letter, and said:

“‘This letter has been photographed! here is proof of it!’ and he pointed 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, but some 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 by the throat, and shaking me like a plum-tree, saying he would shake me until I told him who I was, what I knew, and where I came from. As if I knew, myself! I was obliged to account for every minute of my time since I had been in his service. The devil was worse than a judge of instruction, in his questions. Then he sent for the hotel porter, who had charge of the front door, and questioned him closely, but in English, so that I could not understand. After a while, he cooled down, and when the boy was gone, presented me with twenty francs, saying, ‘I am sorry I was so sharp with you; you are too stupid to have been guilty of 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 of your brilliancy.”

It was easy to see that Joseph Dubois was anxious to hear his patron’s grounds 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 marquis dressed, and went out. He did not want his carriage, but I saw him hire a 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 a bull-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 kept watch 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 he must 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 shut up, ‘administratively,’ you understand, Mlle. Palmyre. Fortunately you had anticipated something of the kind, and given orders to watch over her safety. But for you, she would now be in prison.”

Joseph looked up to the ceiling by way of trying to remember something more. Finding nothing there, he said: