IN WHICH M. DUCORNEAU UNDERSTANDS NOTHING OF WHAT IS PASSING.
Don Manoël was less yellow than usual, that is to say, he was more red.
He had just been having a fierce altercation with his valet, and they
were still disputing when Beausire entered.
“Come, M. Beausire, and set us right,” said the valet.
“About what?”
“This 100,000 francs. It is the property of the association, is it
not?”
“Certainly.”
“Ah, M. Beausire agrees with me.”
“Wait,” said Don Manoël.
“Well, then,” continued the valet, “the chest ought not to be kept
close to the ambassador’s room.”
“Why not?” asked Beausire.
“M. Manoël ought to give us each a key to it.”
“Not so,” said Manoël; “do you suspect me of wishing to rob the
association? I may equally suspect you, when you ask for a key.”
“But,” said the valet, “we have all equal rights.”
“Really, monsieur, if you wish to make us all equal, we ought to have
played the ambassador in turn. It would have been less plausible in the
eyes of the public, but it would have satisfied you.”
“And besides,” said Beausire, “M. Manoël has the incontestable
privilege of the inventor.”
“Oh,” replied the valet, “the thing once started, there are no more
privileges. I do not speak for myself only; all our comrades think the
same.”
“They are wrong,” said both Manoël and Beausire.
“I was wrong myself to take the opinion of M. Beausire; of course the
secretary supports the ambassador.”
“Monsieur,” replied Beausire, “you are a knave, whose ears I would
slit, if it had not already been done too often. You insult me by
saying that I have an understanding with Manoël.”
“And me also,” said Manoël.
“And I demand satisfaction,” added Beausire.
“Oh, I am no fighter.”
“So I see,” said Beausire, seizing hold of him.
“Help! help!” cried the valet, attacked at once by both of them. But
just then they heard a bell ring.
“Leave him, and let him open the door,” said Manoël.
“Our comrades shall hear all this,” replied the valet.
“Tell them what you please; we will answer for our conduct.”
“M. Bœhmer!” cried the porter from below.
“Well, we shall have no more contests about the 100,000 francs,” said
Manoël; “for they will disappear with M. Bœhmer.”
M. Bœhmer entered, followed by Bossange. Both looked humble and
embarrassed. Bœhmer began, and explained that political reasons would
prevent their fulfilling their contract.
Manoël cried out angrily; Beausire looked fierce.
Manoël said “that the bargain was completed, and the money ready.”
Bœhmer persisted.
Manoël, always through Beausire, replied, “that his Government had been
apprised of the conclusion of the bargain, and that it was an insult to
his queen to break it off.”
M. Bœhmer was very sorry, but it was impossible to act otherwise.
Beausire, in Manoël’s name, refused to accept the retractation, and
abused M. Bœhmer as a man without faith, and ended by saying, “You have
found some one to pay more for it.”
The jewelers colored.
Beausire saw that he was right, and feigned to consult his ambassador.
“Well,” said he at length, “if another will give you more for your
diamonds, we would do the same, rather than have this affront offered
to our queen. Will you take 50,000 francs more?”
Bœhmer shook his head.
“100,000, or even 150,000,” continued Beausire, willing to offer
anything rather than lose the booty.
The jewelers looked dazzled for a moment, consulted together, and then
said, “No, monsieur, it is useless to tempt us. A will more powerful
than our own compels us to decline. You understand, no doubt, that it
is not we who refuse. We only obey the orders of one greater than any
of us.”
Beausire and Manoël saw that it was useless to say more, and tried to
look and speak indifferently on the matter.
Meanwhile the valet had been listening attentively, and just then
making an unlucky movement, stumbled against the door. Beausire ran to
the ante-chamber. “What on earth are you about?” cried he.
“Monsieur, I bring the morning despatches.”
“Good,” said Beausire, taking them from him, “now go.”
They were letters from Portugal, generally very insignificant, but
which, passing through their hands before going to Ducorneau, often
gave them useful information about the affairs of the embassy.
The jewelers, hearing the word despatches, rose to leave like men who
had received their congé.
“Well,” said Manoël, when they were gone, “we are completely beaten.
Only 100,000 francs, a poor spoil; we shall have but 8,000 each.”
“It is not worth the trouble. But it might be 50,000 each.”
“Good,” replied Manoël, “but the valet will never leave us now he knows
the affair has failed.”
“Oh, I know how we will manage him. He will return immediately, and
claim his share and that of his comrades, and we shall have the whole
house on our hands. Well, I will call him first to a secret conference;
then leave me to act.”
“I think I understand,” said Manoël.
Neither, however, would leave his friend alone with the chest while he
went to call him.
Manoël said “that his dignity as ambassador prevented him from taking
such a step.”
“You are not ambassador to him,” said Beausire; “however, I will call
through the window.”
The valet, who was just beginning a conversation with the porter,
hearing himself called, came up.
Beausire said to him, with a smiling air, “I suppose you were telling
this business to the porter?”
“Oh, no.”
“Are you sure?”
“I swear!”
“For if you were, you were committing a great folly, and have lost a
great deal of money.”
“How so?”
“Why, at present only we three know the secret, and could divide the
100,000 francs between us, as they all now think we have given it to M.
Bœhmer.”
“Morbleu!” cried the valet, “it is true: 33,300 francs each.”
“Then you accept?”
“I should think so.”
“I said you were a rogue,” said Beausire, in a thundering voice; “come,
Don Manoël, help me to seize this man, and give him up to our
associates.”
“Pardon! pardon!” cried the unfortunate, “I did but jest.”
“Shut him up until we can devise his punishment.”
The man began to cry out.
“Take care,” said Beausire, “that Ducorneau does not hear us.”
“If you do not leave me alone,” said the valet, “I will denounce you
all.”
“And I will strangle you,” said Don Manoël, trying to push him into a
neighboring closet.
“Send away Ducorneau somewhere, Beausire, while I finish this fellow.”
When he had locked him up, he returned to the room. Beausire was not
there; Don Manoël felt tempted. He was alone, and Beausire might be
some little time; he could open the chest, take out all the bank-notes,
and be off in two minutes. He ran to the room where it was: the door
was locked. “Ah,” thought he, “Beausire distrusted me, and locked the
door before he went.” He forced back the lock with his sword, and then
uttered a terrible cry. The chest was opened and empty. Beausire had
got, as we know, a second key; he had forestalled Manoël.
Manoël ran down like a madman; the porter was singing at the door—he
asked if Beausire had passed.
“Yes, some ten minutes ago.”
Manoël became furious, summoned them all, and ran to release the
unfortunate valet. But when he told his story, Manoël was accused of
being an accomplice of Beausire, and they all turned against him.
M. Ducorneau felt ready to faint, when he entered and saw the men
preparing to hang M. de Souza. “Hang M. de Souza!” cried he. “It is
high treason.”
At last they threw him into a cellar, fearing his cries would arouse
the neighborhood.
At that moment loud knocks at the door disturbed them,—they looked at
each other in dismay. The knocks were repeated, and some one cried,
“Open in the name of the Portuguese ambassador.”
On hearing this, each made his escape in terror, as he best could,
scrambling over walls and roofs. The true ambassador could only enter
by the help of the police.
They found and arrested M. Ducorneau, who slept that night in the
Châtelet.
Thus ended the adventure of the sham embassy from the Portugal.