ABOUT five o’clock Madame Baradier had just returned, and was reading in
her small salon; her daughter, Amélie, and Geneviève de Trémont were
working at the table, chatting pleasantly the while, when the servant
entered, and said—
“There is a priest here, who wishes to speak to you, madame.”
Madame Baradier, lady patroness of several charitable institutions, was
continually receiving appeals to her generosity. She made no distinction
between the clergy and the laity, but received all with equal
benevolence. Accordingly, she ordered the visitor to be showed in. The
first glance she gave him showed her a fine, intelligent face, the
general aspect being rather that of a fashionable and carefully dressed
priest. The first words he uttered confirmed this judgment—
“Madame,” said the visitor, “I am the Abbé d’Escayrac, secretary of the
Issy establishment, which is under the lofty patronage of the Bishop of
Andropolis.”
“Superior of the Absolutionists, unless I am mistaken.”
“You are not mistaken, madame.”
“What can I do for your work, Monsieur l’Abbé?”
“You can do much, madame. But, first of all,”—here the Abbé lowered his
voice—“I have information of special importance to communicate to you,
and it might be better, if you have no objection, if we were alone.”
“As you please, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
The two girls had been well brought up. On a look from Madame Baradier,
they arose, bowed, and left the room.
“You may now speak freely, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
“I am well aware, madame, how you are animated by a sincere Christian
fervour,” continued the priest, “and it is on the certainty that all
apostolic work must receive your cordial assistance that my mission is
based. As you know, we are devoted heart and soul to the service of the
poor. Poverty and misery, nay, even vice itself, have an exclusive claim
on our interest and attention. To us a criminal is a brother we try to
restore to the path of virtue, just as we use our best efforts to save a
sick man. In this way a vast amount of misfortune and crime is revealed
to us. We are the confidents of the most painful of physical vices, the
most lamentable of moral back-slidings. We offer help to all, without
exception, and often serve as intermediaries between those who have the
power to punish and those who wish to be spared. We are never deaf to
repentance, and try to turn it to the advantage of our holy religion.”
He spoke with grave earnestness, and an insinuating voice, turning on one
side the obstacles in the way, preparing his ground, and gradually
attempting to win over to his side the intelligence of the wife, so as to
make of her an ally against the husband. Madame Baradier, astonished at
this lengthy introduction, was beginning to wonder what was the meaning
of it all, so she asked—
“Is it pecuniary help you want, Monsieur l’Abbé? If so, you will find us
very sympathetically disposed towards your work.”
“We shall be very grateful, madame, for whatever you may do for us, but
money is not at present the object of my visit. Recently, we have founded
in the Var an important establishment, where we propose, in imitation of
other powerful religious orders, to open a business establishment. To
facilitate our efforts, we have received very important assistance. We
are full of gratitude towards those who have helped us, and, the
opportunity of doing them a service now offering itself, I, your humble
servant, have been appointed to bring to you a message of conciliation
from a man who, for many years, has been in a state of hostility with
your family, but who now wishes to end his life in concord and peace.”
Madame Baradier, for the last few minutes, had been manifesting serious
symptoms of uneasiness. She saw that the interview was assuming a form
which did not please her; accordingly, she cut short the speech of the
amiable Abbé, and said—
“Will you kindly tell me what you wish, Monsieur l’Abbé? The man’s name
will, I believe, explain the affair far better.”
The young priest smiled; and, with the suppliant look of a martyr, he
said—
“I am a minister of charity and pardon, madame. The man’s name is M.
Lichtenbach.”
“I suspected it.”
“Am I to imagine that his personality will render all understanding
impossible, even in the interests of religion?”
“It is not my place to form such a resolution, Monsieur l’Abbé. I cannot
forget that there are in this house two men who are alone entitled to
reply: my husband and my brother. Permit me to call them.”
“I am at your disposal, madame.”
“No. Monsieur l’Abbé, do not speak so. Whatever happens, be sure that we
all rightly appreciate the mission of conciliation you have accepted. We
shall not confound the mission with its agent.”
Bowing to the priest, she left the room. The Abbé remained motionless in
his armchair, buried in thought. He was fulfilling a mission useful to
his order in a double sense. No preoccupation foreign to his religious
duties troubled him. He rightly appreciated Elias, but the evangelical
spirit would not allow him to neglect the salvation of even the most
despicable of men. Had not Christ permitted the kiss of Judas? Did not
the Holy Father lave the feet of the filthiest of beggars? Besides, the
interests of the Church inspired him. The door opened, and Graff
appeared. Coming up to the young Abbé, he bowed—
“My sister, Madame Baradier, has just informed me of your presence,
Monsieur l’Abbé. My brother-in-law, Barassin, is busy in the office, and
begs to be excused. Besides, I have full permission to act as I think
best. Will you explain?”
“Has not Madame Baradier told you?”
“In a few hasty words. You are sent by Lichtenbach? Good! That does not
astonish us in the least. So long as he was the stronger, he did us all
the harm he could. Now that we have the upper hand, he is trying to stop
the game. Let us hear what he wants.”
M. d’Escayrac smiled.
“It is pleasant to talk to you, monsieur; one knows at once where one is
going.”
“Very well, Monsieur l’Abbé; since you know, proceed at once to facts.”
“By chance, your firm and that of Lichtenbach have met on the same ground
concerning the exploitation of a patent.”
“You call that chance? Good! Good! As for the ‘same ground,’ there is
some truth in that, since, in order to obtain the patent in question,
they have exploded a house, that of one of our friends; set fire to a
manufactory, our own; assassinated two men, and risked killing several
others. It is a ‘ground’ sprinkled with blood, Monsieur l’Abbé! But,
still, it is that abominable ‘same ground!’”
The priest crossed his hands with an expression of horror.
“Monsieur, I knew nothing of what you are now revealing to me. Were it
any one but yourself who were speaking, I should think he had taken leave
of his senses. It is impossible that the man, in whose name I am here,
should have committed the frightful acts you now reproach him with.”
“Let us understand one another,” replied Uncle Graff, eagerly. “I do not
accuse Lichtenbach of having shed blood. He is incapable of it for
several reasons, the best of which is that he would not dare to do such a
thing. But the patent of which you speak has been obtained by the means I
have just informed you of. Monsieur l’Abbé, you have been beguiled into a
disagreeable enterprise. Still, in us you have to deal with those who
have too much respect for religion for you to need to fear any
responsibility. You may explain yourself without any further beating
about the bush. Whatever may be said between us will not be repeated.
After all, this interview may have some useful result, who knows?”
“I have no doubt whatever of that,” said the Abbé, considerably troubled
all the same. “Oh, monsieur, how pleased I am to have to discuss the
interests entrusted to my charge with so benevolent a man as yourself!
God be praised! If possible, we will bring about a perfect understanding.
If only you knew what I myself dread! In very truth, M. Lichtenbach is
not so responsible for all that has happened as you suppose. He is not
his own master in this matter; he has to deal with powerful personages,
who will not lay down their arms, and who, I am afraid, will have
recourse to the most extreme measures to obtain the supremacy over you.”
“We have nothing to fear!”
“There are poisoned weapons which will kill even the most invulnerable.
Be on your guard, monsieur, against the plots to which your adversaries
at bay may have recourse. I speak to you in all sincerity. I was not
aware of the past, but I have been terrified at the glimpse into the
future that has been permitted me.”
“By whom? Lichtenbach?”
“Oh! He was terrified himself; and begged me to come and speak to you,
simply knowing me to be one whose character could offer him sufficient
guarantee for discretion. I can assure you that in him you no longer have
an enemy to deal with. Of that he is ready to give you whatever proof you
wish.”
“He is deceiving you, Monsieur l’Abbé. You have been his dupe, and know
him well. What does he want?”
“He proposes the complete fusion of the two enterprises by the
exploitation of the two patents. Though the Dalgetty is previous to the
Trémont patent, the two discoveries, being almost similar, shall be
considered as equal.”
“What is that?” exclaimed Uncle Graff. “Lichtenbach is, indeed, very
kind. One is genuine, the other counterfeit. The Trémont patent is the
result of work and intelligence; the Dalgetty patent is the result of
fraud and theft.”
“My dear sir,” exclaimed the Abbé, uneasily, “official declarations are a
guarantee of faith. One cannot go against facts. The Dalgetty was taken
out by an English company before the Trémont.”
“And how does that affect us? The Dalgetty has no value; those who have
sent you here are well aware of that fact. We have them in our power, I
tell you; they can do nothing. Their patent is not worth the money they
have spent in taking it out. For months past Lichtenbach and ourselves
have been adversaries over the Explosives Company. We hold the right end,
that he well knows. He will soon have to undertake a liquidation. And
then?”
“He offers to stop his bear operations.”
“He cannot continue them any longer.”
“He will take at half price the shares of the Explosives of which you are
the holders, and pay for them at once.”
“I dare say he will; they will rise at a leap to two hundred francs
each!”
“He is ready to offer you a pledge of his frank and, henceforth,
invariable co-operation. If, in your family, you had a person belonging
to his family, if an alliance united your common interests, would you not
consider that an absolute guarantee of his sincere cessation of enmity
against you?”
Graff turned pale, but succeeded in mastering his emotions, and, wishing
to know his opponent’s inmost thoughts, he said—
“Who is the person in question on Lichtenbach’s side?”
“Mademoiselle Marianne, his daughter.”
“And on ours?”
“Your nephew, M. Baradier.”
“So these two would be married, and Baradier, Graff, and Lichtenbach
would form one single family.”
“I do not know whether or not you are acquainted with Mademoiselle
Lichtenbach. She is a charming young lady, brought up under the loftiest
religious influences, and calculated to offer your nephew the most
serious guarantees of happiness possible. It would be a joy to us to have
contributed to the reconciliation of former enemies, separated by
quarrels, which might, doubtless, easily be forgotten in the midst of
general satisfaction. Concord and peace instead of enmity; no more fears
or threats. One common and complete prosperity! Come, my dear sir,
pronounce the words of redemption and hope, make an effort over your
pride, and give the world an example of gentleness and charity.”
Graff had silently listened to the priest’s earnest pleading. His bent
forehead and closed eyes gave the Abbé d’Escayrac to believe that his
words were having their due effect on the old man’s thoughts. There was a
moment’s silence. Then the uncle looked the Abbé straight in the face,
and, in firm tones, said—
“Monsieur l’Abbé, in the cemetery of Metz, there are Graffs who would
leap from their tombs if one of their descendants were to demean himself
so far as to marry the daughter of a Lichtenbach!”
“Monsieur!” exclaimed the Abbé in surprise.
“Then you do not know the Baradiers and Graffs, or you would not propose
to them an alliance with a Lichtenbach? Do you know who Lichtenbach is?
Between Lorraine and Paris, there is not a mile of ground which has not
been strewn with French blood, on account of this wretch. A spy, to lead
the enemy to victory; food-supplier to the foe; when our troops were
dying of hunger, he fattened on war, and enriched himself on treason. He
sold his brothers of France—the Jews, who fought in our ranks and died
like brave soldiers, double Judas as he was! And after receiving the
reward for his treason, he turned Christian, and set about defiling
another religion, by the disgusting intransigence of his apostate zeal!
There you have a picture of Lichtenbach, Monsieur l’Abbé. Must I now tell
you who Graff and Baradier are?”
“Oh, I know well, my dear sir! Your honour and patriotism are universally
respected. But what animosity and rancour! Is this what I shall have to
tell the one who sent me?”
“Tell him he is an impudent rascal for having charged such a man as
yourself with such a mission. Tell him our scorn for him is only equalled
by his hatred against us. Assure him we have not the slightest fear. If
he wishes to slander us, we will pay him back in the same coin; if he
dares to strike us, we will defend ourselves. In the latter case, let him
be careful!”
“Monsieur!” said the Abbé, in tones of entreaty. “Reflect? Anger is a bad
counsellor.”
“Monsieur l’Abbé, I am perfectly calm. You do not know me. I never give
way to passion. If I did, the result would be terrible. But a great deal
would be needed to bring about such a state of things!”
“Must I then leave you without obtaining any result? I am well aware that
you are exposed to the most terrible dangers.”
“I thank you for warning us. We shall be on our guard.”
“Is that your last word?”
“No, Monsieur l’Abbé. Never has a priest entered this house without
taking away, for himself and his work, a testimony of our respectful
deference and humble piety.”
Graff took from his pocket a cheque-book, wrote a few words, and, handing
the piece of paper to his visitor, said—
“For your poor parishioners, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the priest. “This is princely liberality. I will pray for
you, monsieur, with all my heart.”
“Thanks, Monsieur l’Abbé,” said Graff, with a smile. “But pray, above
all, for Lichtenbach.”
And, opening the door, he conducted the priest out.
That same evening, about nine o’clock, after dinner, Lichtenbach
descended from his brougham, close to the entrance of the Boulevard
Maillat. It was a brilliant night, and the groves in the Bois, under the
silvery light of the moon, raised their dark masses against the horizon.
The banker hurried along, not without some anxiety, for the spot was a
deserted one, and a likely haunt of undesirable characters. After walking
about a hundred yards, he halted in front of the ivy-covered gate of a
villa, and knocked. A few seconds passed, then a small door turned on its
hinges, and a woman appeared. It was Milona. Recognizing the banker, she
stepped backwards, without uttering a word, and led the way into a garden
in front of the house.
“Is madame at home?” asked Elias.
“She is expecting you,” said the Dalmatian, in guttural accents.
“Good. Have the others arrived?”
“Yes; an hour ago.”
They proceeded along a flower-bed, the flowers of which gave out fragrant
odours on to the night air. The servant mounted a flight of steps,
followed by Lichtenbach. On reaching a dark ante-chamber, Lichtenbach
handed his overcoat and hat to Milona, who opened a door, and out of the
darkness he passed suddenly into the light of the salon, the windows and
curtains of which were hermetically closed. Seated at a table, Hans and
Agostini were playing at piquet and drinking grog. On a divan Sophia
reclined, in an elegant white deshabillé. The two men scarcely raised
their heads on hearing Lichtenbach enter. The Baroness slowly sat
upright, nodded graciously, and said—
“Sit down by my side. They are finishing their game. How did you come? I
did not hear the wheels of your carriage.”
“I left it near the Porte Maillot.”
“What precautions! Can you not trust your coachman?”
“I trust no one.”
“And suppose some night prowler had struck you to the ground, to teach
you not to walk about alone at night in these parts?”
Elias raised the butt-end of a revolver from his pocket, and said—
“I should have been able to speak to him in his own language.”
“I see; then you never travel without an interpreter?”
“I cannot let myself be murdered for a paltry twenty francs; it would be
altogether too stupid!”
The conversation was interrupted by an exclamation from Cesare, who, in a
passion, threw the cards down on to the table. Hans laughed to himself,
and made a rapid calculation on a piece of paper.
“That makes thirty-five louis for you to pay. You have lost fourteen
hundred points!”
“It is enough to make one believe in the Evil Eye!” growled the handsome
Italian. “Ever since this Marcel Baradier cast his eyes on me, I cannot
touch a single card without losing, at no matter what game!”
Glancing angrily in the direction of Sophia, he said—
“This must come to an end!”
“Come, now, peace!” ordered Hans, authoritatively. “What noise you make
for nothing at all! What news have you, father money-bags? Has your
jesuit d’Escayrac seen our friends?”
“He has. They refuse.”
“Refuse what? Be precise. Your daughter or our affair?”
Elias changed colour, and his eyes flashed. However, neither anger nor
chagrin appeared from his voice.
“They refuse both alliance with me and co-operation with you. Everything,
in short!”
“Donnerwetter!” growled Hans. “Are they mad?”
“No; they are aware that you have nothing, and they have everything. This
they prove by sending us about our business.”
“You take all this very calmly,” exclaimed Count Cesare. “I have seen you
less resigned than you now appear.”
“I am not in the habit of fighting windmills. You have tricked me into an
absurd and dangerous business; now I am simply leaving it, that is all.”
“Leaving your feathers behind.”
“As you say. But as few as possible. I have already turned round about
and effected a counter-operation.”
“You rogue! You will end by earning money, where we lose everything!”
replied Agostini, pale with anger.
“If I do so, it is because I am not so stupid as you, who can do nothing
but spend it.”
Hans burst into a laugh. As Agostini seemed to be on the point of losing
his temper, he laid his hand on his arm, and forced him to keep his seat.
“Old money-bags is right; but we must not act like horses when there is
no hay in the rack, and begin to fight. Let us study the situation, and
see what can be done. First of all, what does the beauty say? Up to the
present she has not spoken a word. Still, she must have an opinion on the
matter; we will allow her to give it first.”
The Baroness appeared to awake from a reverie, and she said, in
disdainful tones—
“It is not my custom desperately to follow up badly-conceived operations.
You know what I have always told you since the Vanves night: that there
was an evil spell over the whole affair. You will arrive at no successful
end. After all, you have obtained half of what you wanted—the war powder.
Follow the example Lichtenbach sets you. Give it up, and pass on to
something else.”
“Something else, indeed!” growled Hans. “No, I shall not let go an affair
which has cost me so dear. Some one must pay me for the arm I have lost!”
“Well, what plan have you to offer?” asked the Baroness, impatiently.
“You will arrange to strike up a fresh acquaintance with Marcel Baradier.
Bring me the young man here one of these evenings. He knows the secret of
the manufacture, and he shall either give it up to you of his own free
will, or I will undertake to force him to do so.”
Lichtenbach’s hands trembled nervously. Sophia remained impassive.
“Well, what do you say to my proposal?” asked Hans, in jovial tones.
“I will have nothing further to do with the matter!” declared the
Baroness.
“Ah! take care!” exclaimed Agostini. “I know why you refuse to help us
against young Marcel. You are afraid for him. That is the difficulty.”
“And what if it were so?”
Hans made no reply. He appeared to reflect deeply. Then, with feigned
good temper, he said—
“After all, you may be right. In any case, we can do nothing without
you.”
Lichtenbach heaved a sigh of satisfaction. The conciliating attitude
suddenly assumed by Hans seemed to be full of meaning. Wishing to know
what this terrible partner of his really thought, he judged it useful to
dissimulate his own ideas.
“Come, we will say nothing more on the matter! What this affair has cost
me I will pass through the profit and loss account. Still, it is a pity
we could not find that secret trick of manipulation. There was a great
deal of money to be earned by it, after all!”
Hans bit his lips, but made no reply; whilst Agostini turned gracefully
round to Lichtenbach, and said—
“And my marriage? What is to become of it?”
“What has become of this affair of ours,” replied Elias, roughly,
“nothing. The one fell with the other! My fine fellow, you have no longer
a prospective dot. I took you with the Trémont powder, and the only
powder now left is blinding dust!”
“Ah! You treat me in this way. I may give you reason to repent it!”
“And if I wished, you would not be allowed in France another twenty-four
hours. Let us be going,” added Lichtenbach; “it is already late.”
“We will accompany you to the toll-gate, for fear something may happen to
you. This quarter is not very safe at nights. Good night, Sophia.”
“Good night.”
She held out her white hand, which her dreaded ally touched with that
iron hand of his, covered with a glove.
“May I not stay a few minutes, Sophia?” asked Agostini.
“No,” said the Baroness, emphatically. “Good night!”
Ringing the bell, Milona appeared.
“Show these gentlemen out, Milo.”
Silently they left the house, preceded by the Dalmatian, who held a round
lantern to light the way through the sinuous turnings of the path leading
to the little ivy-covered door. This she opened, and then disappeared.
They proceeded along the Avenue Maillot in silence, each occupied with
his own thoughts. Suddenly Hans stopped, and said, in low accents—
“Sophia is tricking us. But things shall not happen as she imagines. I
pretended to give way, the better to deceive her. Now this is what we
will do. Cesare will send a letter in a disguised hand-writing to young
Marcel Baradier, fixing a rendezvous at the Boulevard Maillot about ten
o’clock at night. I shall be there to receive him, with others on whom I
can rely, and I will undertake to introduce the pigeon into the dovecot.
Once there, Sophia must be forced to employ her wiles, whether she will
or not. It is the same plan I mentioned just now, and which she refused.
The only difference is that I do not ask for her permission before
putting it into practice.”
“But suppose Baradier does not come?” said Cesare.
“What? Not come? Can you imagine that he would not come to a rendezvous
fixed by the Baroness? He will fly to it at once. And when we have him!”
“What will you do?” asked Lichtenbach, in quivering accents.
“That is my own business. Just trust to me to loosen this young man’s
tongue!”
“Violence?”
“A mode of persuasion he cannot resist.”
“And suppose he denounces you on leaving the house?”
“If only he will speak beforehand he will have plenty of time to say what
he wishes afterwards.”
Lichtenbach shuddered. He felt that Hans had made up his mind to kill
Marcel Baradier, and that the bandit was pursuing a double end:
possession of the secret, and revenge for his mutilation.
“For the future,” he said, “I will have nothing more to do with your
actions, in which I repudiate all share. I do not wish even to know the
result of your attempt. You seem to have gone mad!”
“Ah! don’t think we ever relied on you for anything else than an advance
of funds?” said Count Cesare, jeeringly. “To us you have been the hen
which laid the golden eggs; now that you have stopped laying, go your own
way!”
“No tricks with us, Lichtenbach,” said Hans. “If we succeed, the Dalgetty
patent will have its full effect, you know; consequently you will share
in the profits. What you say now is only another instance of your
hypocrisy; you reject the responsibility, but are willing to accept the
profits. Very well, my friend, you shall have them!”
They had reached the spot where Lichtenbach’s carriage stood. Agostini
gracefully opened the door, saying—
“Good night, my prince, pleasant dreams!”
Meanwhile, M. Mayeur had acted in accordance with information received
from Baudoin and Colonel Vallenot. For a week now he had known the
details of Count Cesare’s life. Of very good birth, belonging to an
illustrious family, Signor Agostini had been obliged to leave the Italian
army after an affair of honour.
Concerning Hans, nothing could be discovered. The Baroness had been
tracked, through Agostini, to her rooms in the Boulevard Maillot. The
hotel had been let furnished. She lived very quietly, under the name of
Madame de Frilas. M. Mayeur had sent an intelligent agent to the Baron
Grodsko at Nice, and obtained from him full information concerning her.
Provided with his notes, M. Mayeur had returned to the War Office to
communicate them to Colonel Vallenot, and ask of him the result of his
personal investigations. Introduced at once into the Minister’s cabinet,
the magistrate had seen the results of his examination confirmed by
supplementary details. In proportion as light was thrown on the
personality of the different actors in the drama, the gravity of the
affair became more and more evident. They discovered, beyond the faintest
shadow of doubt, that they had to deal with an association of
international espionage, which had been working for at least ten years on
behalf of foreign governments, probably exploiting them in turn, and
betraying them to the profit of one another.
It was possible that the whole of Europe had been duped by these clever
rascals. The least false step might alarm the culprits and cause them to
disappear! M. Mayeur grew pale at the restraint placed on him. But how
was it possible to neglect such imperious political necessities? Colonel
Vallenot was the first to speak out clearly on the subject—
“From this moment, General, it is certain we hold the Ténébreuse, as our
agents call her. This is the woman of whom I spoke to you at the outset
of our investigations some months ago, the one involved in the Cominges,
Fontenailles affairs, etc. We have only to order, and she is in our
power. Is it possible that we can let her escape?”
“It is these deuced formalists, with their politics!” growled the old
chief. “If the matter were in my hands it should not be allowed to linger
in this way. These lawyers and quibblers astonish me! I only regain
possession of myself when in the midst of my officers. What do you say,
Monsieur le Juge?”
At that moment the door opened, and the porter brought a card to Colonel
Vallenot. The latter handed it to the Minister, who exclaimed—
“Marcel Baradier! Show him in!”
The young man entered, bowed, and, addressing the General, said—
“I undertook, General, to keep you _au courant_ of anything fresh that
might happen. I have come to keep my promise.”
“Very good, my friend, explain.”
“This morning, General, I received this letter.”
He placed on the desk a sheet of paper, which the Minister examined
attentively.
“No date, very common paper, an evidently counterfeit handwriting, and no
signature. Now let us see what it says: ‘If you wish to see once more the
one who still loves you, go to-night, at ten o’clock, to the Place de
l’Etoile, at the corner of the Avenue Hoche. A carriage will be stationed
there. Enter it, the coachman will ask no questions, and will take you
where you are expected.’”
“Good. The classic mode of procedure, except that you are not asked to
submit to having your eyes bandaged. What have you made up your mind to
do?”
“I shall go to the rendezvous.”
“Ah, ah! Without the slightest apprehension?”
“That is another matter, General. All the same, I shall go. I am
determined to have the solution to this enigma.”
The magistrate interrupted him in gentle tones—
“Permit me to remark, monsieur, that this resolution of yours is an
exceedingly imprudent one. Ninety-nine chances to a hundred they are
attempting to entrap you. Do not add to our trouble by exposing yourself
to danger for an uncertain result.”
“If it is she who has written to me, I have nothing to fear.”
“The deuce!” exclaimed the General. “You are very affirmative!”
Marcel replied gently—
“You may have concerning this woman whatever opinion your information has
permitted you to form. False with the others, she was truthful to me. She
betrayed the rest. To me she has been faithful and devoted.”
“Listen!” exclaimed the General. “He is convinced of the truth of what he
says. She persuades each and every one of them that she is sincere, and
they all believe her!”
“I will run the risk!”
The old soldier brought down his fist on to the desk—
“Well, you are a brave fellow! I like this obstinacy, Vallenot. The deuce
take me if I would not have done the same thing at his age. Well, it is
understood, go to the rendezvous. But we, too, shall take precautionary
measures to protect and defend you, if necessary.”
“Oh! General, do nothing whatever, please! The slightest intervention
would ruin everything! If it is really Sophia who has written the letter,
I have no need of an escort or protection of any kind. If it is a trap,
those who have prepared it have their eyes open, and will notice all your
preparations.”
“Do you know where the lady lives?” asked the magistrate.
“No, sir; as you see, no address is given in the letter.”
M. Mayeur then said in measured tones—
“My dear sir, your reasons are not bad ones at all. True, I have
recommended you to be prudent, but if you will go to the rendezvous, go.
Still, as we must always look at things from a practical standpoint, what
result do you expect to obtain?”
“Monsieur,” said Marcel, gravely; “General de Trémont was my friend; his
death has not been avenged. Our works have been fired; my uncle Graff, my
servant, and myself were almost burnt alive. This crime has not been
punished, any more than the assassination of Laforêt. I intend to throw
light on all these facts, though it be at the peril of my life.”
“Very good, sir, all I can do is to wish you good luck.”
Marcel bowed and shook hands with the three men.
“He is a true Baradier! But he is too venturesome!”
As soon as the door was closed, M. Mayeur rose from his seat,
exclaiming—.
“Here is an opportunity, General, to seize all these rascals at once. Of
course, you know as well as I do that it is their object to entice M.
Baradier into the house in the Boulevard Maillot, and there force him to
give up his secret. Just now you said that these villains must be induced
to resist, and then massacred. Without going to that extremity, we have
now an opportunity of simplifying the whole proceedings.”
“But you promised Marcel you would not interfere!” said Colonel Vallenot.
“I don’t intend to interfere. He shall do as he likes. But I cannot take
no interest in these preparations, nor will I, like young Baradier, be
chivalrous with bandits. This is my plan: The rendezvous is for ten
o’clock. You know the situation of the Boulevard Maillot; there is a
ditch separating it from the Bois de Boulogne. A splendid hiding-place to
hide a posse of police entering by the wood. I know a detective officer
who is as intelligent as he is determined. I shall give him instructions
to post himself there, and keep watch. In case M. Baradier is right, and
there is nothing to fear, my men will simply have passed a night in the
open-air. If he is mistaken then the danger will be a real one. You heard
him say that he would be armed and ready to defend himself. At the first
cry or shot my men will invade the house. If they are threatened they
resist, if they are struck they will fire. Whether diplomacy wishes or
not, if the villains are caught in the act the matter must take its
course.”
“Whatever happens, do not let young Baradier be killed, and above all try
to lay hands on the woman.”
“What do you think of the plan, General?”
The old soldier looked at the magistrate, then at Vallenot. He noticed
the impassive countenance of the latter, and replied—
“You need not ask for my advice. All these judicial operations are out of
my province. Act as you think best; I have nothing to say.”
The magistrate shook his head, with a mocking smile; then, taking up his
hat, he said—
“Ah, I know what you mean! So long as the affair is not over, no one
wishes to have anything to do with it. If it succeeds, then I shall be
the only one to be left out of it all. But that matters little. It is my
duty, and I will not hesitate. Your servant, General.”
And he left the room accompanied by Colonel Vallenot.