But no feeling of discomfort ever lasted very long with citizen
Tournefort. He was a person of vast resource and great buoyancy of
temperament.
True, he had not apprehended two exceedingly noxious aristos, as he had
hoped to do; but he held the threads of an abominable conspiracy in his
hands, and the question of catching both Bertin and Madame la Comtesse
red-handed was only a question of time. But little time had been lost.
There was always someone to be found at the offices of the Committee of
Public Safety, which were open all night. It was possible that citizen
Chauvelin would be still there, for he often took on the night shift, or
else citizen Gourdon.
It was Gourdon who greeted his subordinate, somewhat ill-humouredly, for
he was indulging in a little sleep, with his toes turned to the fire, as
the night was so damp and cold. But when he heard Tournefort's story, he
was all eagerness and zeal.
"It is, of course, too late to do anything now," he said finally, after
he had mastered every detail of the man's adventures in the Ruelle du
Paradis; "but get together half a dozen men upon whom you can rely, and
by six o'clock in the morning, or even five, we'll be on our way to
Gentilly. Citizen Chauvelin was only saying to-day that he strongly
suspected the ci-devant Comtesse de Sucy of having left the bulk of her
valuable jewellery at the chateau, and that she would make some effort
to get possession of it. It would be rather fine, citizen Tournefort,"
he added with a chuckle, "if you and I could steal a march on citizen
Chauvelin over this affair, what? He has been extraordinarily arrogant
of late and marvellously in favour, not only with the Committee, but
with citizen Robespierre himself."
"They say," commented Tournefort, "that he succeeded in getting hold of
some papers which were of great value to the members of the Committee."
"He never succeeded in getting hold of that meddlesome Englishman whom
they call the Scarlet Pimpernel," was Gourdon's final dry comment.
Thus was the matter decided on. And the following morning at daybreak,
Gourdon, who was only a subordinate officer on the Committee of Public
Safety, took it upon himself to institute a perquisition in the chateau
of Gentilly, which is situated close to the commune of that name. He was
accompanied by his friend Tournefort and a gang of half a dozen ruffians
recruited from the most disreputable cabarets of Paris.
The intention had been to steal a march on citizen Chauvelin, who had
been over arrogant of late; but the result did not come up to
expectations. By midday the chateau had been ransacked from attic to
cellar; every kind of valuable property had been destroyed, priceless
works of art irretrievably damaged. But priceless works of art had no
market in Paris these days; and the property of real value--the Sucy
diamonds namely--which had excited the cupidity or the patriotic wrath
of citizens Gourdon and Tournefort could nowhere be found.
To make the situation more deplorable still, the Committee of Public
Safety had in some unexplainable way got wind of the affair, and the two
worthies had the mortification of seeing citizen Chauvelin presently
appear upon the scene.
It was then two o'clock in the afternoon. Gourdon, after he had snatched
a hasty dinner at a neighbouring cabaret, had returned to the task of
pulling the chateau of Gentilly about his own ears if need be, with a
view to finding the concealed treasure.
For the nonce he was standing in the centre of the finely proportioned
hall. The rich ormolu and crystal chandelier lay in a tangled, broken
heap of scraps at his feet, and all around there was a confused medley
of pictures, statuettes, silver ornaments, tapestry and brocade
hangings, all piled up in disorder, smashed, tattered, kicked at now and
again by Gourdon, to the accompaniment of a savage oath.
The house itself was full of noises; heavy footsteps tramping up and
down the stairs, furniture turned over, curtains torn from their poles,
doors and windows battered in. And through it all the ceaseless
hammering of pick and axe, attacking these stately walls which had
withstood the wars and sieges of centuries.
Every now and then Tournefort, his face perspiring and crimson with
exertion, would present himself at the door of the hall. Gourdon would
query gruffly: "Well?"