THOMAS SEYTON AND THE COUNTESS SARAH.
The two persons who had just entered the _tapis-franc_ were quite of
another class from those who ordinarily frequented it. One, tall and
erect, had hair almost white, black eyebrows and whiskers, a long and
tanned face, with a stiff, formal air. His long frock coat was buttoned
up to the throat, _à la militaire_. We shall call this individual Thomas
Seyton. His companion was young, pale, and handsome, and appeared about
thirty-one or two years of age. His hair, eyebrows, and eyes were of a
deep black, which showed off the more fully the pure whiteness of his
face. By his step, the smallness of his stature, and the delicacy of his
features, it was easy to detect a woman in male habiliments. This female
was the Countess Sarah Macgregor. We will hereafter inform our readers
of the motives and events which had brought the countess and her brother
into this cabaret of the Cité.
"Call for something to drink, Thomas, and ask the people here about
_him_; perhaps they may give us some information," said Sarah, still
speaking English.
The man with white hair and black eyebrows sat down at a table, whilst
Sarah was wiping her forehead, and said to the ogress, in excellent
French, "Madame, let us have something to drink, if you please."
The entrance of these two persons into the _tapis-franc_ had excited
universal attention. Their dress, their manners, all announced that they
never frequented low drinking-shops, whilst, by their restless looks
and disturbed countenances, it might be judged that some very powerful
motives had led them hither. The Chourineur, the Schoolmaster, and the
Chouette viewed them with increasing curiosity.
Startled by the appearance of such strange customers, the ogress shared
in the general surprise. Thomas Seyton, a second time, and with an
impatient tone, said, "We have called for something to drink, ma'am;
pray let us have it."
Mother Ponisse, flattered by their courtesy of manner, left her bar,
and, coming towards her new guests, leaned her arms on their table, and
said, "Will you have a pint of wine in measure or a bottle?"
"A bottle of wine, glasses, and some water."
The ogress brought the supplies demanded, and Thomas Seyton threw her a
five-franc piece, and refused the change which she offered to him.
"Keep it, my good woman, for yourself, and perhaps you will take a glass
with us."
"You're uncommon purlite, sir," looking at the countess's brother with
as much surprise as gratitude.
"But tell me, now," said he; "we had appointed to meet a friend in a
cabaret in this street, and have, perhaps, mistaken the house in coming
here."
"This is the 'White Rabbit,' at your service, sir."
"That's right enough, then," said Thomas, making a sign to Sarah; "yes,
it was at the 'White Rabbit' that he was to give us the meeting."
"There are not two 'White Rabbits' in this street," said the ogress,
with a toss of her head. "But what sort of a person was your friend?"
"Tall, slim, and with hair and moustaches of light chestnut," said
Seyton.
"Exactly, exactly; that's the man who has just gone out. A charcoal-man,
very tall and stout, came in and said a few words to him, and they left
together."
"The very man we want to meet," said Tom.
"Were they alone here?" inquired Sarah.
"Why, the charcoal-man only came in for one moment; but your comrade
supped here with the Chourineur and Goualeuse;" and with a nod of her
head, the ogress pointed out the individual of the party who was left
still in the cabaret.
Thomas and Sarah turned towards the Chourineur. After contemplating him
for a few minutes, Sarah said, in English, to her companion, "Do you
know this man?"
"No; Karl lost all trace of Rodolph at the entrance of these obscure
streets. Seeing Murphy disguised as a charcoal-seller, keeping watch
about this cabaret, and constantly peeping through the windows, he was
afraid that something wrong was going on, and so came to warn us.
Murphy, no doubt, recognised him."
During this conversation, held in a very low tone, and in a foreign
tongue, the Schoolmaster said to the Chouette, looking at Tom and Sarah,
"The swell has shelled out a 'bull' to the ogress. It is just twelve,
rains and blows like the devil. When they leave the 'crib,' we will be
on their 'lay,' and draw the 'flat' of his 'blunt.' As his 'mot' is with
him, he'll hold his jaw."
If Tom and Sarah had heard this foul language, they would not have
understood it, and would not have detected the plot against them.
"Be quiet, _fourline_," answered the Chouette; "if the 'cull' sings out
for the 'traps,' I have my vitriol in my pocket, and will break the
phial in his 'patter-box.' Nothing like a drink to keep children from
crying," she added. "Tell me, darling, sha'n't we lay hands on Pegriotte
the first time we meet with her? And only let me once get her to our
place, and I'll rub her chops with my vitriol, and then my lady will no
longer be proud of her fine skin."
"Well said, Chouette; I shall make you my wife some day or other," said
the Schoolmaster; "you have no equal for skill and courage. On that
night with the cattle-dealer, I had an opportunity of judging of you;
and I said, 'Here's the wife for me; she works better than a man.'"
"And you said right, _fourline_; if the Skeleton had had a woman like me
at his elbow, he would not have been nabbed with his gully in the dead
man's weasand."
"He's done up, and now he will not leave the 'stone jug,' except to kiss
the headsman's daughter, and be a head shorter."
"What strange language these people talk!" said Sarah, who had
involuntarily heard the last few words of the conversation between the
Schoolmaster and the Chouette. Then she added, pointing to the
Chourineur, "If we ask this man some questions about Rodolph, perhaps he
may be able to answer them."
"We can but try," replied Thomas, who said to the Chourineur, "Comrade,
we expected to find in this cabaret a friend of ours; he supped with
you, I find. Perhaps, as you know him, you will tell us which way he has
gone?"
"I know him because he gave me a precious good hiding two hours ago, to
prevent me from beating Goualeuse."
"And have you never seen him before?"
"Never; we met by chance in the alley which leads to Bras Rouge's
house."
"Hostess, another bottle of the best," said Thomas Seyton.
Sarah and he had hardly moistened their lips, and their glasses were
still full; but Mother Ponisse, doubtless anxious to pay proper respect
to her own cellar, had frequently filled and emptied hers.
"And put it on the table where that gentleman sits, if he will permit,"
added Thomas, who, with Sarah, seated themselves beside the Chourineur,
who was as much astonished as flattered by such politeness.
The Schoolmaster and the Chouette were talking over their own dark plans
in low tones and "flash" language. The bottle being brought, and Sarah
and her brother seated with the Chourineur and the ogress, who had
considered a second invitation as superfluous, the conversation was
resumed.
"You told us, my good fellow, that you met our comrade Rodolph in the
house where Bras Rouge lives?" inquired Thomas Seyton, as he hob and
nobbed with the Chourineur.
"Yes, my good fellow," replied he, as he emptied his glass at a gulp.
"What a singular name is Bras Rouge! What is this Bras Rouge?"
"_Il pastique la maltouze_" (smuggles), said the Chourineur, in a
careless tone, and then added, "This is jolly good wine, Mother
Ponisse!"
"If you think so, do not spare it, my fine fellow," said Seyton, and he
filled the Chourineur's glass as he spoke.
"Your health, mate," said he, "and the health of your little friend,
who--but mum. 'If my aunt was a man, she'd be my uncle,' as the proverb
says. Ah! you sly rogue, I'm up to you!"
Sarah coloured slightly as her brother continued, "I did not quite
understand what you meant about Bras Rouge. Rodolph came from his house,
no doubt?"
"I told you that Bras Rouge _pastique la maltouze_."
Thomas regarded the Chourineur with an air of surprise.
"What do you mean by _pastique la mal_--What do you call it?"
"_Pastiquer la maltouze._ He smuggles, I suppose you would call it; but
it seems you can't 'patter flash?'"
"My fine fellow, I don't understand one word you say."
"I see you can't talk slang like M. Rodolph."
"Slang?" said Thomas Seyton, looking at Sarah with an astonished air.
"Ah! you are yokels; but comrade Rodolph is an out-and-out pal, he is.
Though only a fan-painter, yet he is as 'downy' in 'flash' as I am
myself. Well, since you can't speak this very fine language, I tell you,
in plain French, that Bras Rouge is a smuggler, and, besides that, has a
small tavern in the Champs Elysées. I say, without breaking faith, that
he is a smuggler, for he makes no secret of it, but owns it under the
very nose of the custom-house officers. Find him out, though, if you
can; Bras Rouge is a deep one."
"What could Rodolph want at the house of this man?" asked Sarah.
"Really, sir, or madam, which you please, I know nothing about anything,
as true as I drink this glass of wine. I was chaffing to-night with the
Goualeuse, who thought I was going to beat her, and she ran up Bras
Rouge's alley, and I after her; it was as dark as the devil. Instead of
hitting Goualeuse, however, I stumbled on Master Rodolph, who soon gave
me better than I sent. Such thumps! and especially those infernal
thwacks with his fist at last. My eyes! how hot and heavy they did fall!
But he's promised to teach me, and to--"
"And Bras Rouge, what sort of a person is he?" asked Tom. "What goods
does he sell?"
"Bras Rouge? Oh, by the Holy! he sells everything he is forbidden to
sell, and does everything which it is forbidden to do. That's his line,
ain't it, Mother Ponisse?"
"Oh! he's a boy with more than one string to his bow," answered the
ogress. "He is, besides, principal occupier of a certain house in the
Rue du Temple,--a rum sort of a house, to be sure; but mum," added she,
fearing to have revealed too much.
"And what is the address of Bras Rouge in that street?" asked Seyton of
the Chourineur.
"No. 13, sir."
"Perhaps we may learn something there," said Seyton, in a low voice, to
his sister. "I will send Karl thither to-morrow."
"As you know M. Rodolph," said the Chourineur, "you may boast the
acquaintance of a stout friend and a good fellow. If it had not been for
the charcoal-man, he would have 'doubled up' the Schoolmaster, who is
there in the corner with the Chouette. By the Lord! I can hardly contain
myself, when I see that old hag, and know how she behaved to the
Goualeuse,--but patience, 'a blow delayed is not a blow lost,' as the
saying is."
The Hotel de Ville clock struck midnight; the lamp of the tavern only
shed a dim and flickering light. Except the Chourineur and his two
companions, the Schoolmaster, and the Screech-owl, all the guests of the
_tapis-franc_ had retired one after the other.
The Schoolmaster said, in an undertone, to the Chouette, "If we go and
hide in the alley opposite, we shall see the swells come out, and know
which road they take. If they turn to the left, we can double upon them
at the turning of the Rue Saint Eloi; if to the right, we will wait for
them by the ruins close to the tripe-market. There's a large hole close
by, and I have a capital idea."
The Schoolmaster and the Chouette then went towards the door.
"You won't, then, take a 'drain' of nothin' to-night?" said the ogress.
"No, Mother Ponisse, we only came in to take shelter from the rain,"
said the Schoolmaster, as he and the Chouette went out.