THE BLEEDING HEART.
The landlord of the Bleeding Heart, after having responded to the signal
of the Schoolmaster, advanced politely to the threshold of his door.
This personage, whom Rodolph had been to see in the Cité, and whom he
did not yet know under his true name, or, rather, his habitual surname,
was Bras Rouge.
Lank, mean-looking, and feeble, this man might be fifty years of age.
His countenance resembled both the weasel and the rat; his peaked nose,
his receding chin, his high cheek-bones, his small eyes, black,
restless, and keen, gave his features an indescribable expression of
malice, cunning, and sagacity. An old brown wig, or, rather, as yellow
as his bilious complexion, perched on the top of his head, showed the
nape of the old fellow's withered neck. He had on a round jacket, and
one of those long black aprons worn by the waiters at the wine shops.
Our three acquaintances had hardly descended the last step of the
staircase when a child of about ten years of age, rickety, lame, and
somewhat misshapen, came to rejoin Bras Rouge, whom he resembled in so
striking a manner that there was no mistaking them for father and son.
There was the same quick and cunning look, joined to that impudent,
hardened, and knavish air, which is peculiar to the scamp (_voyou_) of
Paris,--that fearful type of precocious depravity, that real 'hemp-seed'
(_graine de bagne_), as they style it, in the horrible slang of the
gaol. The forehead of the brat was half lost beneath a thatch of
yellowish locks, as harsh and stiff as horse-hair. Reddish-coloured
trousers and a gray blouse, confined by a leather girdle, completed
Tortillard's costume, whose nickname was derived from his infirmity. He
stood close to his father, standing on his sound leg like a heron by the
side of a marsh.
"Ah, here is the darling one (_môme_)!" said the Schoolmaster. "Finette,
night is coming on, and time is pressing; we must profit by the daylight
which is left to us."
"You are right, my man; I will ask the father to spare his darling."
"Good day, old friend," said Bras Rouge, addressing the Schoolmaster, in
a voice which was cracked, sharp, and shrill. "What can I do for you?"
"Why, if you could spare your 'small boy' to my mistress for a quarter
of an hour, she has lost something which he could help her to look for."
Bras Rouge winked his eye and made a sign to the Schoolmaster, and then
said to the child:
"Tortillard, go with madame."
The hideous brat hopped forward and took hold of the "one-eyed's" hand.
"Love of a bright boy, come along! There is a child!" said Finette. "And
how like his father! He is not like Pegriotte, who always pretended to
have a pain in her side when she came near me,--a little baggage!"
"Come, come away!--be off, Finette! Keep your weather-eye open, and
bright lookout. I await you here."
"I won't be long. Go first, Tortillard."
The one-eyed hag and the little cripple went up the slippery steps.
"Finette, take the umbrella," the brigand called out.
[Illustration: "'_Ah, Here is the 'Darling One'!_'"
Original Etching by Adrian Marcel]
"It would be in the way, my man," said the old woman, who quickly
disappeared with Tortillard in the midst of the fog, which thickened
with the twilight, and the hollow murmur of the wind as it moaned
through the thick and leafless branches of the tall elms in the Champs
Elysées.
"Let us go in," said Rodolph.
It was requisite to stoop in passing in at the door of the cabaret,
which was divided into two apartments. In one was a bar and a
broken-down billiard-table; in the other, tables and garden chairs,
which had once been painted green. Two narrow windows, with their
cracked panes festooned with spiders' webs, cast a dim but not religious
light on the damp walls.
Rodolph was alone for one moment only, during which Bras Rouge and the
Schoolmaster had time to exchange some words, rapidly uttered, and some
mysterious signs.
"You'll take a glass of beer,--or brandy, perhaps,--whilst we wait for
Finette?" said the Schoolmaster.
"No; I am not thirsty."
"Do as you like,--I am for a 'drain' of brandy," said the ruffian; and
he seated himself on one of the little green tables in the second
apartment.
Darkness came on to this den so completely, that it was impossible to
see in one of the angles of this inner apartment the open mouth of one
of those cellars which are entered by a door in two divisions, one of
which was constantly kept open for the convenience of access. The table
at which the Schoolmaster sat was close upon this dark and deep hole,
and he turned his back upon it, so that it was entirely concealed from
Rodolph's view.
He was looking through the window, in order to command his countenance
and conceal the workings of his thoughts. The sight of Murphy speeding
through the Allée des Veuves did not quite assure him; he was afraid
that the worthy squire had not quite understood the full meaning of his
note, necessarily so laconic, and containing only these words:
"This evening--ten o'clock. Be on your guard."
Resolved not to go to the Allée des Veuves before that moment, nor to
lose sight of the Schoolmaster for an instant, he yet trembled at the
idea of losing the only opportunity that might ever be afforded him of
obtaining that secret which he was so excessively anxious to possess.
Although he was powerful and well armed, yet he had to deal with an
unscrupulous assassin, capable of any and every thing. Not desiring,
however, that his thoughts should be detected, he seated himself at the
table with the Schoolmaster, and, by way of seeming at his ease, called
for a glass of something. Bras Rouge having exchanged a few words, in a
low tone, with the brigand, looked at Rodolph with an air in which
curiosity, distrust, and contempt were mingled.
"It is my advice, young man," said the Schoolmaster, "that if my wife
informs us that the persons we wish to see are within, we had better
make our call about eight o'clock."
"That will be two hours too soon," said Rodolph; "and that will spoil
all."
"Do you think so?"
"I am sure of it."
"Bah! amongst friends there should be no ceremony."
"I know them well, and I tell you that we must not think of going before
ten o'clock."
"Are you out of your senses, young man?"
"I give you my opinion, and devil fetch me if I stir from here before
ten o'clock."
"Don't disturb yourself,--I never close my establishment before
midnight," said Bras Rouge, in his falsetto voice; "it is the time when
my best customers drop in; and my neighbours never complain of the noise
which is made in my house."
"I must agree to all you wish, young man," continued the Schoolmaster.
"Be it so, then; we will not set out on our visit until ten o'clock."
"Here is the Chouette!" said Bras Rouge, hearing and replying to a
warning cry similar to that which the Schoolmaster had uttered before he
descended to the subterraneous abode.
A minute afterwards the Chouette entered the billiard-room alone.
"It is all right, my man,--I've done the trick!" cried the one-eyed hag,
as she entered.
Bras Rouge discreetly withdrew, without asking a word about Tortillard,
whom, perhaps, he did not expect to see return. The beldam sat with her
face towards Rodolph and the brigand.
"Well?" said the Schoolmaster.
"The young fellow has told us all true, so far."
"Ah! you see I was right," exclaimed Rodolph.
"Let the Chouette tell her tale, young man. Come, tell us all about it,
Finette."
"I went straight to No. 17, leaving Tortillard on the lookout and
concealed in a corner. It was still daylight, and I rung at a side door
which opens outwards, and here's about two inches of space between it
and the sill; nothing else to notice. I rang; the porter opened. Before
I pulled the bell I had put my bonnet in my pocket, that I might look
like a neighbour. As soon as I saw the porter I pretended to cry
violently, saying that I had lost a pet parrot, Cocotte,--a little
darling that I adored. I told him I lived in the Rue Marboeuf, and that
I had pursued Cocotte from garden to garden, and entreated him to allow
me to enter and try and find the bird."
"Ah!" said the Schoolmaster, with an air of proud satisfaction, pointing
to Finette, "what a woman!"
"Very clever," said Rodolph. "And what then?"
"The porter allowed me to look for the creature, and I went trotting all
around the garden, calling 'Cocotte! Cocotte!' and looked about me in
every direction to scrutinise every thing. Inside the walls," continued
the horrid old hag, going on with her description of the premises,
"inside the walls, trellis-work all around,--a perfect staircase; at the
left-hand corner of the wall a fir-tree, just like a ladder,--a lying-in
woman might descend by it. The house has six windows on the ground
floor, and has no upper story,--six small windows without any fastening.
The windows of the ground floor close with shutters, having hooks below
and staples in the upper part: press in the bottom, use your steel
file--"
"A push," said the Schoolmaster, "and it is open."
The Chouette continued:
"The entrance has a glass door, two Venetian blinds outside--"
"Memorandum," said the ruffian.
"Quite correct; it is as precise as if we saw it," said Rodolph.
"On the left," resumed the Chouette, "near the courtyard, is a well; the
rope may be useful (for at that particular spot there is no trellis
against the wall), in case retreat should be cut off in the direction of
the door. On entering into the house--"
"You got inside the house, then? Young man, she got inside the house!"
said the Schoolmaster, with pride.
"To be sure I got in! Not finding Cocotte, I had made so much
lamentation that I pretended I was quite out of breath; I begged the
porter to allow me to sit down on the step of the door, and he very
kindly asked me to step in, offering me a glass of wine and water. 'A
glass of plain water,' I said; 'plain water only, my good sir.' Then he
made me go into the antechamber,--carpeted all over; good
precaution,--footsteps or broken glass cannot be heard, if we must 'mill
the glaze' (break a pane of glass); right and left, doors with sliding
bolts, which open by a gentle push from the top. At the bottom was a
strong door, locked,--it looked very like a money-chest. I had my wax in
my basket--"
"She had her wax, young man! She never goes without her wax!" said the
brigand.
The Chouette proceeded:
"It was necessary to approach the door which smelled so strongly of the
cash, so I pretended that I was seized with a fit of coughing,--so
violent, that I was compelled to lean against the wall for support.
Hearing me cough, the porter said,'I'll fetch you a morsel of sugar to
put in your water.' He probably looked for a spoon, for I heard plate
chink,--plate in the room on the left-hand; don't forget that,
_fourline_. Well, coughing and wheezing, I reached the door at the
bottom,--I had my wax in the palm of my hand. I leaned against the lock
as though accidentally, and here is the impression; we may not want it
to-day, but another time it may be useful."
And the Chouette gave the brigand a bit of yellow wax, on which the
print of the lock was perfectly impressed.
"You can tell us whether this is the door of the money-chest," said the
Chouette.
"It is, and there is the cash," replied Rodolph; and then said to
himself, "Has Murphy, then, been the dupe of this cursed old hag?
Perhaps so, and he only expects to be assailed at ten o'clock; by that
time every precaution will have been taken."
"But all the money is not there," continued the Chouette, and her one
green eye sparkled. "As I approached the windows, still searching for my
darling Cocotte, I saw in one of the chambers (door on the left) some
bags of crown pieces, in a bureau. I saw them as plainly as I see you,
my man; there were at least a dozen of them."
"Where is Tortillard?" said the Schoolmaster.
"In his hiding-place,--not more than two paces from the garden. He can
see in the dark like a cat. There is only that one entrance to No. 17,
so when we go he will tell us if any one has come or not."
"That's good--"
The Schoolmaster had scarcely uttered these words than he made a sudden
rush at Rodolph, grappled him by the throat, and flung him violently
down the cellar which was yawning behind the table.
The attack was so rapid, unexpected, and powerful, that Rodolph could
neither foresee nor avoid it. The Chouette, alarmed, uttered a piercing
shriek; for at the first moment she had not seen the result of the
struggle. When the noise of Rodolph's body rolling down the steps had
ceased, the Schoolmaster, who knew all the ways and windings of the
underground vaults in the place, went down the stairs slowly, listening
as he went.
"_Fourline_, be on your guard," cried the beldam, leaning over the
opening of the trap; "draw your 'pinking iron.'"
The brigand disappeared without any reply. For a time nothing was heard,
but at the end of a few moments the distant noise of a door shutting,
which creaked on its rusty hinges, sounded harshly in the depths of the
cavern; then all was again still as death. The darkness was complete.
The Chouette fumbled in her basket, and then, producing a lucifer-match,
lighted a wax taper, whose feeble ray made visible the darkness of this
dreary den.
At this moment the monster-visage of the Schoolmaster appeared at the
opening of the trap. The Chouette could not repress an exclamation of
horror at the sight of his ghastly, seamed, mutilated, and fearful face,
with eyes that gleamed like phosphorus, and seemed to glare on the
ground even in the midst of the darkness which the lighted taper could
not entirely dissipate. Having subdued her feeling of fright, the old
hag exclaimed, in a tone of horrible flattery:
"You must be an awful man, _fourline_, for even I was frightened!--yes,
I!"
"Quick, quick, for the Allée des Veuves!" said the ruffian, securely
closing the double flap of the trap with a bar of iron. "In another
hour, perhaps, it will be too late. If it is a trap, it is not yet
baited; if it is not, why, we can do the job alone."