THE NUT ON THE RACK
But we must return to M. de Saynthine. That evening when he left M.
Onésime Belon, with whom he had a long discussion, he passed through
the little door leading to the deserted street on the seafront, and
turned his steps towards the light of the town. He walked past the pier,
crossed the public gardens, stopped before Violette's shop and
exclaimed: "Hullo, Giselle is working late to-night!"
M. de Saynthine was in love. In reality M. de Saynthine was always in
love, on principle. He possessed the sentimental temperament of a
certain Arigonde, alias the Parisian, who, in his youth, had achieved
notoriety as a squire of dames.
We know that this notoriety had landed him in the Assize Court, and even
beyond that Court, as a result of irretrievable accidents which had
befallen the ladies to whom he paid court. The few years that he had
spent in the convict settlement had by no means extinguished his ardor.
In the early days this lady-killer was prodigal of his favors and not
very particular in the choice of his partners. But he had become tired
of so many commonplace adventures and victories won, as it were, before
a shot was fired, that he felt the longing for an affair which would be
more difficult to complete, more serious and more lasting. He had
encountered Giselle at Violette's shop in Paris, for Nina Noha was one
of its customers.
Nina Noha, to serve her own purposes, which may be
imagined--particularly if it is remembered that she was of Hungarian
descent and quite recently naturalized--never lost an opportunity of
introducing M. de Saynthine into society circles as an old friend, who
was interested in stock breeding in the Argentine, and who had come to
France on the declaration of war to discover the most effective means of
serving his country.
The truth--unfortunately only too obvious--was that enemy propaganda,
which was always on the lookout to increase its army of spies in the old
as well as the new world, had its ramifications even in the
gold-diggings in Guiana, and had enlisted the Parisian and his gang at a
moment, when, having escaped a second time from their prison, they
reached, in utter destitution, the frontier of Dutch Guiana.
Enemy agents had at once seen how to turn those miscreants to account,
and had supplied them with the necessary social status to enable them to
live in France.
Nina Noha had to take the Parisian in hand, and when she was entrusted
with the mission of organizing a system of espionage among the
fashionable crowd on the Riviera, she brought the Parisian with her, and
his gang followed.
The Parisian's first intention had been to make love to the dancer, but
she repressed him so remorselessly that he accepted his rejection
without demur.
"We are not here to amuse ourselves," she flung at him.
The consciousness that he was her subordinate was extremely distasteful
to M. de Saynthine. Until he had succeeded in striking the blow which he
was meditating against the Nut, he sought, therefore, to pass the time
and console himself for Nina Noha's contempt by engaging in one of those
little sentimental intrigues in which he was a past master. Giselle's
handsome face, with its touch of sadness, appealed to him from the
first--from the day on which he saw her when he accompanied Nina Noha on
one of her visits to Violette's.
While he was at Nice he happened to pass Violette's shop and he caught
sight of the young girl. After that he endeavored, without success, to
induce her to respond to his advances, and he was delighted with her.
Some degree of opposition was by no means unwelcome to him.
That evening again his footsteps led him quite naturally to Violette's
shop. And now he was watching Giselle, not without excitement, putting
things back in their proper places before her departure. He knew that
she lived in the Rue d'Angleterre, for he had followed her so far, and
he determined to make the same little trip that evening.
Accordingly it was with a feeling of great annoyance that, when the shop
door suddenly opened, he saw standing before him Nina Noha and her maid.
"What are you doing here, de Saynthine? I say, come along with me to my
place. I want to talk to you."
"But, my dear lady, I happen to have an appointment----"
"Tut, tut! You're waiting for Giselle, aren't you? Oh, you wonder how I
know what you're up to! Giselle made a complaint to the elder
Mademoiselle Violette, and she told me all about it But your love
affairs are no business of mine. Come with me. Someone is waiting to
have a chat with you."
He could not choose but obey. He was incensed. He thought that he might
even yet be able to meet Giselle before she reached the Rue
d'Angleterre.
When they were in Nina Noha's flat, she opened a door which, till then,
de Saynthine thought was permanently closed. The door connected her flat
with the adjoining flat. She went into it and he heard her say:
"Yes, my dress will be ready to-morrow evening."
And a voice, which he did not at once recognize, asked:
"Do you know whether the d'Haumonts will be at Madame d'Erlande's?"
"Yes, they'll be there. I heard so from Mdlle. Violette, who saw Madame
d'Haumont to-day."
A few words were exchanged in a whisper, and Nina Noha returned and
requested M. de Saynthine to go into the next flat. He saw a man with a
pallid face and feverish eyes lying on a sofa.
"Oh, Monsieur le Comte!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, it's I, come back to life again, or nearly so. I've had a narrow
escape. That Captain d'Haumont shoots like a duffer, but we shall be
even with him, don't you think, de Saynthine?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Comte."
"But who is the man? No d'Haumont has lived in France for the last fifty
years. Here's a man who came back from away in Guiana with millions. It
seems that he has a splendid business out there in the forest. All the
same, you can't keep a business like that secret. I have had inquiries
made. Who is d'Haumont? He is quite unknown in Guiana. Have you fellows
in your wanderings through the country ever heard of d'Haumont's
business?"
"No, certainly not. His business must be on the Upper Oyapok, and even
farther away. It's a very uncivilized place. People never go there. But
in those parts one stroke of luck is enough to make a man rich."
"It's very funny," interposed Nina Noha. "I saw Captain d'Haumont for
the first time at the fête at Valrose, and I had a sort of feeling that
his face was not unfamiliar to me."
"Oh, one often imagines such things," returned de Saynthine, shaking his
head.
"Listen to me, de Saynthine," went on de Gorbio. "I have had the closest
inquiries made about Captain d'Haumont. There is a gap in his life! We
must know what that gap means, my lad."
De Saynthine bowed.
"I will have a good try, Monsieur le Comte." Having said which, he took
his leave.
So they had sent for him in order to talk about d'Haumont! "You don't
catch me parting with that tit-bit to you," he growled, thinking of his
own schemes.
As he walked past Violette's shop his thoughts turned once again to
Giselle with a rancor which but immensely increased his longing to see
the handsome mannequin. But she was no longer there.
As a matter of fact, while he was submitting to the caprice of Nina
Noha, Giselle had been hastily sent for. Her mother was in an alarming
state, and the poor girl had set out distraught. A few minutes later
Captain and Madame d'Haumont came to the shop. Mdlle. Violette told them
of the blow which was threatening her assistant, and Didier at once
suggested that they should go and call on her. Somewhat surprised to see
her husband display so much anxiety, Françoise none the less expressed
her agreement with him; and Mdlle. Violette herself went with them to
the Rue d'Angleterre.
Five minutes later they knocked at the door of a small flat on the fifth
floor. A nurse asked them in, and they found themselves in a sort of
entrance-lobby which contained a folding bedstead. It was here that
Giselle slept.
Mlle. Violette had already slipped into the next room to see the mother,
who appeared to be a little better. She had had a fit, but, according to
the nurse, the doctor had given them a few words of hope. Mdlle.
Violette came back to say that they could see the invalid.
They entered a room which was quite tastefully furnished, and Giselle's
mother welcomed them with a smile on her pale face. She expressed her
gratitude to Didier for what he had done for her daughter and her self
in words which brought tears to Françoise's eyes. And she said a few
nice things about Françoise and her marriage which stirred the latter
to the depths of her being.
"But where is Giselle?" asked Didier.
"She went downstairs with the doctor. She probably wanted to go with him
to learn the truth, the poor child. She fears that I am really ill,
though we have done everything we can to hide the truth from her."
Françoise and Mlle. Violette assured her that the southern sun would do
wonders for her, but that she must not live in rooms where its light
never penetrated; and they made arrangements for Madame Anthenay, for
such was the mother's name, to take up her abode in a small but
comfortable flat on the Quay du Midi where she would be bathed in
sunshine from the rising to the setting of the sun.
Suddenly they heard loud knocks on the landing door; and when it was
opened Giselle flung herself into the room, her face convulsed and her
frame shaken with a fit of sobbing.
"What's happened? . . . What's the matter?"
She endeavored to restrain herself, asking pardon of those whom she had
not expected to see for giving way to such a silly exhibition of
emotion.
"It's nothing. I've had a great fright in the street."
"That's not true," exclaimed Mlle. Violette. "I bet it's that man again.
He has been following you."
"Well, yes, it is he. He has insulted me. He won't leave me alone."
Didier sprang from his chair, pale, and with a terrible lode on his face
that frightened Françoise.
"Who has insulted you?" he demanded in a smothered voice.
Mlle. Violette went to the window of the balcony on the roof which
looked out on to the street. And she pointed to a man wearing a soft hat
and an overcoat with the collar turned up, walking with his hands in his
pockets, his stick under his arm.
"Yes, that's the man!" she cried. "The wretch follows Giselle every day.
We shall have to lodge a complaint."
Declining to listen to his wife, who, greatly distressed, begged him to
stay where he was, Didier rushed wildly out of the room.
* * * * *
In truth, in our ordinary, prosaic life men of nobility of mind and
goodness of heart are ever eager to throw themselves into the cause of
virtue. We may say of these men that they are true knights, for they
never lose an opportunity of flying to the rescue of beauty in distress,
untouched by any selfish motive or even by the least thought of reward.
Such a man was Captain d'Haumont.
He had already "done enough" for Giselle by helping her to escape from
poverty and enter a good business; and he was entitled to consider that
any claim upon his charitable instincts had been fully met. He might
have rested content with that. Giselle was old enough to protect herself
from the annoyance of a chance wayfarer or even from the deep-laid plots
of a rascal.
Indifference or contempt on the one hand and a feeling of weariness and
wounded pride on the other are enough, as a general rule, to cool the
first ardor of a villain who, in his self-complacency, thinks that no
one is able to resist him.
Captain d'Haumont bounded wildly down the stairs, darted into the
street, and looked about for his man, or rather Giselle's man, with the
gestures of a bulldog longing for a bite, and it might almost seem as if
he had taken leave of his senses.
What was Françoise to think about it? She might very well say to
herself: "Well, if he gets into such a state of excitement over a
stranger to whom someone has been lacking in respect, what will he do
when any man looks at me askance? Good gracious, he couldn't possibly
show more righteous indignation!" She became quite dejected by the
reflection. But as she was, in her own way, inspired with sentiments
which did not fall short in generosity those entertained by Captain
d'Haumont, whom she loved more for himself than for herself--which is
the crowning test of love--she quickly discarded thoughts which she
regarded as selfish, and her sole apprehension was as to what lay in
store, in this attack, for the man for whom she would have given her
life.
Mlle. Giselle was no less anxious as to what might happen to her
protector, and she expressed aloud her regret for not keeping silent;
but she was not aware that Captain d'Haumont was in the room; and, in
particular, she had no idea that he would take the matter so much to
heart. Her agitation, her apologies, her sorrow, were so sincere and
expressed with such real candor that though Françoise might have felt
within her as a result of her husband's action--charitable, doubtless,
but of an exaggerated charity--a natural antipathy to Giselle, she was
the first to console her.
They both went downstairs to seek for news, in the same state of
agitation and with sinking hearts. Upstairs, Madame Anthenay was almost
fainting. Mdlle. Violette was the only person who retained any degree of
self-command.
"What do you expect to happen? Captain d'Haumont will give the
unmannerly brute a piece of his mind and the fellow will make off. You
may be certain that we shan't see that 'follower' again."
As a matter of fact, at the sight of the Captain waving his stick like a
madman, the man buried his face still deeper in the collar of his
overcoat, and led away along a street branching off at an angle, and
turned his hastening footsteps towards the light of one of the main
roads.
Captain d'Haumont soon came up to him, but the night was dark.
"Don't walk so fast, Monsieur," Captain d'Haumont threw at him. "I've
something to say to you."
At the sound of that voice the man gave a start but did not slacken his
pace.
"Wait a moment, if you don't mind," went on d'Haumont. "I want to tell
you that you are a coward, and if you don't stop tormenting that girl
you'll have me to deal with."
But the other made no attempt to halt. Far from it. He strode forward
with redoubled speed.
"Do you hear?" pursued the mad Didier. "If I catch you following Mlle.
Anthenay again I shall punch your head. Besides, you are not going to
get away until I've seen your face."
And as they came under the light of a street lamp, Captain d'Haumont
raised his walking stick and knocked the man's soft hat on to the
pavement, uncovering the upper part of his face.
At that moment d'Haumont ceased to wave his arms, and uttered a hollow
groan as though he had received a blow in the stomach. The man on the
other hand did not utter a word. He picked up his hat, rammed it on his
head, and went on his way.
"The Parisian!" cried Captain d'Haumont in a choking voice. "The
Parisian!"
And he retraced his steps staggering like a drunken man.