"Hold thy tongue! Search him."
"_Ma foi_, marquis," said the thief, later, "they did it well. They
even chopped up the heels of my shoes. And my coat! _Sacre_! The good
keeper gave me another. In our cell, as I learned, they went through
the beds and Heaven knows what else. I was well pleased, I can tell
thee, when it was all over."
The commissioner had now cooled down. "Put on thy clothes," said
Gregoire, and himself shut the door. It was Francois's turn.
"Citizen," he said, "didst thou think me fool enough to leave within
reach that little letter of thine to the good citizen of the
committee--to--ah, yes, La Vicomterie is his name. I am not an
_emigre_, only a poor devil of a thief and a juggler. I do not love
Citizen Robespierre any better than some others love him--some I could
name. But one must live, and the day I go out to thy infernal tribunal,
Robespierre will have thy letter. A friend will go himself and lay it
before the committee."
Gregoire grew deadly pale, all but the wart, which remained red. "I am
betrayed!"
"Wait a little. Thou art not quite lost, but thou wilt be unless--"
"Unless what?"
"Unless thou wilt open that door and set me free. I have no grudge
against thee. I will arrange to have for thee the letter, and must
receive from thee a new _carte de surete_, and a good passport on
business of the Committee of Safety."
The commissioner was partly sobered. "How shall I know that thou wilt
keep thy word?"
"Thou wilt not know until I do. Why should I not?"
"But the letter may be lost."
"Well, what then? Thou wilt be safe, and have one less life to answer
for to the devil when he gets thee."
"Talk business. There is no devil."
"I don't agree with thee. His name is Robespierre. The mischief is that
it is I who do not trust thee. Thou hast a wart, citizen. Men who have
warts are unlucky to meet. But take care, because I am a desperate man,
and most extremely value my head. If thou shouldst fail to--"
"No, no; I promise."
"Good, then."
"Wait; I will write out the papers."
"I shall not hurry thee. I must pack up. I will be back in half an
hour. Be so kind as to arrange that I may return without hindrance."
Francois went at once to the garden, and called Toto. Then he hastened
to his _cachot_, or cell, and, finding himself alone, shut the door,
took the little packet from Toto's mouth, and gave him the promised
bone. He placed the paper inside his stocking, and secured it with a
pin. Next he gathered up his small effects, left his mangled coat on
the bed of a fellow-prisoner, and descended thoughtfully to the office.
He was glad to see that the man of the wart was sitting apparently
inattentive to the piles of accounts before him. "Clearly, the citizen
is worried," said Francois to himself.
"I have thy papers. One had to be sent out for a signature. Here is
thy card of safety, and reapproved as that of a citizen who has
denounced an _ex-emigre_. Also, behold a passport, and an order from
the Committee of Safety to leave Paris on business of the republic. All
are in the name of Citizen Francois, juggler."
"The citizen has been thoughtful."
"_Sacre_! I never do things by halves; I am thorough. And now, as to
the paper?"
"It will be best for thee to come, at twelve to-day, to No. 33 _bis_ Rue
Perpignan. There I will take thee to my old room, or another, and make
good my side of the bargain. After that, I have the agreeable hope
never to meet thee again."
"I will be there at noon."
Francois's watchful ear detected a certain emphasis on the "I" of this
phrase, which made him suspicious. He said quietly:
"Citizen, thou hast sold me my head. I shall give thee thine.
Afterward I shall be in thy power."
"Yes, yes; that might be so with Amar or Couthon, but not with Andre
Gregoire."
"_Tiens!_" said the thief, "what is this? 'Andre'? This order is signed
'Alphonse Gregoire.' The citizen must have been absent-minded. Look!"
Gregoire flushed. "True, true. I will write a second. I was
troubled."
Francois stood still, received the second order, and, saying, "_Au
revoir_, citizen," was about to leave, when a thought seemed to strike
him. He paused. "There is here a _ci-devant_ marquis you may
recall--Ste. Luce."
"Well?"
"Put his name at the foot of the file of the accused and keep it there.
Get a clerk to do it. The citizen is aware that it is done every day."
"Impossible! Art thou insane? I run risk enough with thy order and
passport. But this I dare not do. There are limits."
"Do it, or I throw up my bargain. By Heaven, I am in earnest! Come,
what will it cost? Will one hundred louis d'or do the business?"
Gregoire reflected. What more simple than to say yes, pocket the money,
and let things take their course?
"I will do it for that--I mean I can have it done."
"Then give me ten minutes."
"I will wait."
The rich throughout these evil days were allowed to have in prison as
much money as they could get from without. About March of this sad year
they were told that they must feed the poorer captives, and were
regularly assessed. Francois was aware that the marquis was well
provided. He found him in the garden, and asked him to step aside.
"I am free, monsieur," he said. "No matter how. And I have bargained
for your own head." He briefly related so much of his talk with
Gregoire as concerned the marquis.
Ste. Luce looked at him. "_Pardie_! You are an unusual type of
thief--or man. I would thank you if I considered my head worth much.
But, after all, it is a natural attachment one's body has for one's
head, or one's head for one's body, to put it correctly. Will it be
wasted money, my admirable thief, or will the rascal keep his word?"
"Yes; he will keep his word--after we get through with the affair."
"You are a great man, Francois, but I have not the money. I lost it
last night to Delavigne. I will get the loan of it. Rather a new idea
to borrow one's head! Wait a little." He came back in a few minutes.
"It pretty well cleaned out two of them. Good luck to you; and if ever
we are out of this hole, we must fence a little. By the way, I hear
they took that poor devil Despard to-day. It is a relief. He bored me
atrociously."
"Yes; they took him in your place, monsieur. It was to have been
to-day--"
"To-day! In my place? _Tiens!_ that is droll."
"Yes."
"But how--why?"
"No matter now. I will tell monsieur some day."
"Are you a magician, Master Francois?"
"I was. But I did not desire this man's death."
"And the guillotine will have him, and he will not be on hand to see me
scared. _Ciel!_ but it is strange. Alas! the disappointments of this
mortal life! Good luck to you, and _au revoir_. I thank you."
A few minutes later, Gregoire, having carefully disposed of the gold
about his ample person, escorted Citizen Francois to the outer door.
The look with which the commissioner with the wart regarded the
retreating back and the big ears of Francois was unfriendly, to say the
least.
*XXII*
_Wherein is told how Francois baits a crab-trap with the man of the
wart._
Francois understood the risks of his position. For a time he was safe.
After he gave up that precious paper he would be at Gregoire's mercy.
"More or less," muttered the thief, with a laugh which set Toto to
capering. He went toward the Seine, looked in the shop-windows, and had
a bite and a good bottle of wine, for the marquis had insisted on giving
him ten louis for his own use. About half-past eleven he turned into
the Rue Perpignan, and rang the bell at No. 33 bis.
"Come, Toto," he said, as he went in. "We owe Mme. Quatre Pattes a
little debt. Let us be honest and pay." He closed the door behind him,
and heard the sharp voice of the concierge: "Who goes there? Speak, or I
will be after thee." He drew back, and looked in through the glassed
door of the Crab's room. He knew she would not sally out. Why should
she? Her house was only a hive of thieves and low women, who were driven
away when they could not pay, and who rarely plundered one another.
He had never before so carefully inspected his landlady. She was seated
at a table, about to drink a cup of cocoa. The room, the table, the
little well-swept hearth, were all as clean as care and work could keep
them. The woman herself was no less neat than her surroundings, yet she
seemed one who belonged to the sties of the Cite's lowest life. There
was something strangely feline in the combination of animal appearance
with the notable cleanliness of her patched clothes, her person, and her
abode. Her back, bent forward from the waist, and rigid, forced her to
turn her head up and to one side to attain a view of the face of man.
The same need kept her red eyes wide open. The malady which caused this
distortion had ceased to be active. It had scarcely affected her
general health. Like many of those who have suffered from the more
common forms of the disease which makes the hunchback, she possessed
amazing strength.
Now, as Francois stood hesitating, watchful, she sat at table before
him, intent on her meal, looking here or there for bread or salt, her
head swaying from side to side.
"If she were to bite a man, he would be as good as dead," murmured the
thief. "What is it she is like? Ah, 't is the vipers in the wood of
Fontainebleau. _Bonjour, maman_," he cried gaily, as he went in.
Taken by a sharp surprise, she gripped at her two sticks on the table,
but missed them. They fell clattering, and her shaky hands dropped on
her lap. She lacked not courage. As she sat crouched, the bald head,
red-eyed and vigilant, was held back to watch this enemy.
Toto ran in, and fawned at her feet.
"Enchanted to see you, _maman_." By this time she had her wits about
her, and, hearing no accusing charges, felt more at ease.
"Come back again, art thou, my fine thief-bird? Did he fly to his nest?
Ha! he knows who will take care of him. That _sacre_ shoemaker it was
who denounced thee. Didst thou think it was thy little maman? Thou
didst scold me. But how didst thou get out?"
"Ah, no matter now," said Francois. "I have work on hand for thee. If
I mistrusted thee, it is not here I should have come. Sometime we will
have a little _eau-de-vie_ and a pipe, _maman_, and I will tell thee all
about it. Wouldst thou serve the republic, and be well paid for it?
Here, take thy sticks; thou art fit for anything only when thou hast all
thy four legs. Listen, now; and, to begin, thou canst read a
little--enough to understand this passport, and this order from the
Great Committee of Safety?"