The Champdoce Mystery, Emile Gaboriau [ebooks that read to you .TXT] 📗
- Author: Emile Gaboriau
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“I want to speak to M. Paul,” said the old man in a low, hoarse whisper; “he is expecting me.”
“Then come in; but just now his doctor is with him.”
She threw open the door more widely, and stepped back, so that the greasy garments of the visitor might not touch her dress. He passed her with an abject bow, and crossed the little sitting-room with the air of a man who perfectly understands his way. He did not knock at the door of the bedroom, but went straight in; there a singular spectacle at once arrested his attention. Paul, with a very pale face, was seated on the bed, while Hortebise was attentively examining his bare shoulder. The whole of Paul’s right arm and shoulder was a large open wound, which seemed to have been caused by a burn or scald, and must have been extremely painful. The doctor was bending over him, applying a cooling lotion to the injured place with a small piece of sponge. He turned sharply round on Daddy Tantaine’s entrance; and so accustomed were these men to read each other’s faces at a glance that Hortebise saw at once what had happened; for Tantaine’s expression plainly said, “Is Flavia mad to be here?” while the eyes of Hortebise answered, “She may be, but I could not help it.”
Paul turned, too, and greeted the old man with an exclamation of delight.
“Come here,” said he merrily, “and just see to what a wretched state I have been reduced between the doctor and M. Mascarin.”
Tantaine examined the wound carefully. “Are you quite sure,” asked he, “that not only will it deceive the Duke, who will see but with our eyes, but also those of his wife, and perhaps of his medical man?”
“We will hoodwink the lot of them.”
“And how long must we wait,” asked the old man, “until the place skins over, and assumes the appearance of having been there from childhood?”
“In a month’s time Paul can be introduced to the Duke de Champdoce.”
“Are you speaking seriously?”
“Listen to me. The scar will not be quite natural then, but I intend to subject it to various other modes of treatment.”
The dressing was now over, and Paul’s shirt being readjusted, he was permitted to lie down again.
“I am quite willing to remain here forever,” said he, “as long as I am allowed to retain the services of the nurse that I have in the next room, and who, I am sure, is waiting with the greatest eagerness for your departure.”
Hortebise fumed, and cast a glance at Paul which seemed to say, “Be silent;” but the conceited young man paid no heed to it.
“How long has this charming nurse been with you?” asked Tantaine in an unnatural voice.
“Ever since I have been in bed,” returned Paul with the air of a gay young fellow. “I wrote a note that I was unable to go over to her, so she came to me. I sent my letter at nine o’clock, and at ten minutes past she was with me.”
The diplomatic doctor slipped behind Tantaine, and made violent gestures to endeavor to persuade Paul to keep silence, but all was in vain.
“M. Martin Rigal,” continued the vain young fool, “passes the greater part of his life in his private office. As soon as he gets up he goes there, and is not seen for the rest of the day. Flavia can therefore do entirely as she likes. As soon as she knows that her worthy father is deep in his ledgers, she puts on her hat and runs round to me, and no one could have a kinder and a prettier visitor than she is.”
The doctor was hard at work at his danger signals, but it was useless. Paul saw them, but did not comprehend their meaning; and Tantaine rubbed his glasses savagely.
“You are perhaps deceiving yourself a little,” said he at last.
“And why? You know that Flavia loves me, poor girl. I ought to marry her, and of course I shall; but still, if I do not do so—well, you know, I need say no more.”
“You wretched scoundrel!” exclaimed the usually placid Tantaine. His manner was so fierce and threatening that Paul shifted his position to one nearer the wall.
It was impossible for Tantaine to say another word, for Hortebise placed his hand upon his lips, and dragged him from the room.
CHAPTER XXIX. THE TAFILA COPPER MINES, LIMITED.
Paul could not for the life of him imagine why Tantaine had left the room in apparently so angry a mood. He had certainly spoken of Flavia in a most improper manner; for the very weakness of which she had been guilty should have caused him to treat her with tender deference and respect. He could understand the anger of Hortebise, who was Rigal’s friend; but what on earth had Tantaine in common with the wealthy banker and his daughter? Forgetful of the pain which the smallest movement upon his part produced, Paul sat up in his bed, and listened with intense eagerness, hoping to catch what was going on in the next room; but he could hear nothing through the thick walls and the closed door.
“What can they be doing?” asked he. “What fresh plot are they contriving?”
Daddy Tantaine and Hortebise passed out of the room hastily, but when they reached the staircase they stood still. The doctor wore the same smiling expression of face, and he endeavored to calm his companion, who appeared to be on the verge of desperation.
“Have courage,” whispered he; “what is the use of giving way to passion? You cannot help this; it is too late now. Besides, even if you could, you would not, as you know very well, indeed!”
The old man was moving his spectacles, not to wipe his glasses, but his eyes.
“Ah!” moaned he, “now I can enter into the feelings of M. de Mussidan when I proved to him that his daughter had a lover. I have been hard and pitiless, and I am cruelly punished.”
“My old friend, you must not attach too much importance to what you have heard. Paul is a mere boy, and, of course, a boaster.”
“Paul is a miserably cowardly dog,” answered the old man in a fierce undertone. “Paul does not love the girl as she loves him; but what he says is true, only too true, I can feel. Between her father and her lover she would not hesitate for a moment. Ah! unhappy girl, what a terrible future lies before her.”
He stopped himself abruptly.
“I cannot speak to her myself,” resumed he; “do you, doctor, strive and make her have reason.”
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