EMILE VISITS HIS FRIEND PIERRE WITH MOST UNPLEASANT CONSEQUENCES
"Tout mal arrive avec des ailes."
Voltaire.
"Ben provide i'l cielo,
Ch' uom per delitti mai lieto non sia."[16]
It was late at night when Pierre left the café and started out for his
chambers in blissful ignorance that he was being closely followed by a
man. The night was clear, and the innumerable shops and cafés lit up,
gave the boulevard that bright and animated appearance which is one of
the peculiar charms of the gay city.
He pulled out his cigarette case, a silver-gilt one with his monogram
in blue enamel, a new-year's gift from Payot, and discovered it empty.
Pierre got out of his fiacre, and dismissing the cocher turned into
one of the numerous tobacco shops, where he speedily refilled it, and
was in the act of lifting it up when the man, no other than Emile
Levasseur, the waiter and lover of the girl whom he had insulted at
Maxim's, dexterously extracted a pocket-book from Pierre's breast
pocket. Long practice had made him an expert at this game, and
watching his opportunity until Pierre had turned down one of the side
streets, where he could be more easily followed, he opened it under
one of the street lamps, and hastily looked through its contents.
After abstracting a billet de banque for five hundred francs which
he transferred to his own pocket to meet any emergencies that might
arise, together with a few visiting cards which were evidently
Pierre's--seeing that they all bore the same address--he left the rest
of the notes in the pocket-book, and continued to follow Pierre. At
length he observed Pierre take out his latch key, and running after him
with the pocket-book in his hand took off his hat with a polite bow.
"A thousand pardons, but has not monsieur forgotten his pocket-book a
few moments ago?"
Pierre felt in his coat pocket, and not finding it there, turned round
to look at Emile once more.
"I had the honour to notice it lying on the counter of the tobacco shop
after monsieur had just left it. But monsieur travelled so fast I had
some difficulty in reaching him."
Pierre took the pocket-book, and after seeing that the contents had
apparently not been tampered with, thanked him and offered him a five
franc piece.
Emile refused the proffered tip with a superb smile, and a majestic
wave of the hand.
"A thousand pardons, but really I cannot accept anything from monsieur,
the fact that I have been the humble means of restoring monsieur's
property is more than ample reward for me."
Pierre grunted with a smile of contemptuous unbelief, and returned the
piece to his pocket, after scanning him closely from head to foot. His
inspection was evidently satisfactory for he paused for a few minutes
and asked him whether he would care to perform a small service for him,
for which he would pay him handsomely.
"Ah, monsieur is too generous. To serve a patron like monsieur would be
the supreme desire of my life, and payment would be quite a secondary
consideration," he said with a greasy supercilious smile.
"What is your name and address?" asked Pierre.
Monsieur Emile opened a small card-case and handed him one of his cards
which he always kept in readiness for emergencies like these. It bore
the inscription:--
[Illustration:
_Emile Deschamps,
Traveller and Confidential Agent._
_Rue du Rhone,
Grenoble._]
The inscription on the card had been devised by M. Emile after much
meditation and reflection, and while drawn up to create confidence in
the recipient, was really as misleading a document as one could find.
"You see," he would say to his 'copains,' "Grenoble is too far away
for anyone in Paris to make awkward enquiries, the name of the street
carries no number, and the fact that I am a traveller explains my
presence in any city where I may be at the time, and does away with
the necessity of having a fixed address. Moreover a confidential agent
imparts a certain tone and air of respectability which cannot fail to
give me the entire confidence of any patron who may be the favoured
recipient of this small piece of pasteboard. Besides this, the fact
that I have been a garçon for several years has enabled me to acquire
that polished debonair appearance and deportment which can only be
acquired from constant attendance on the high-born gentlemen and ladies
whom I have had the honour to serve."
Glancing at the card, Pierre invited him to enter his rooms, and in a
few moments the pair were settled in a well-furnished and comfortable
library.
Emile was decidedly well dressed for a waiter, and beyond the fact that
he wore mutton chop whiskers, a cleanly shaven face, a bald head, and
had the habit of inadvertently placing his napkin under his arm and
stepping across the room with his head in the air, no one would have
suspected that he was in that line of business. He was a coward at
heart, and was one of those sneaks who are always hanging about street
corners--in fact he made street corners a speciality--and he was ever
on the watch for something to turn up which might add to his income.
These blackmailers--for that is what they really are--abound in all
large cities, and seem without exception to attach themselves to one
or more of the fair sex, whose inherited instincts of virtue have long
since evaporated, and who night after night frequent one or other of
the music halls or cafés, for the purpose of making fresh conquests.
These pimps exert an evil influence over the minds of the girls, and by
slow degrees insidiously drag them down to their own infamous level.
Always keeping in the background, they are never seen by the gentleman
who is drawn into the fair charmer's net, and only appear on the scenes
when they perceive an opportunity of extracting money as the price of
silence.
"Now, sir," said Pierre, as he poured out a small glass of absinthe
which M. Emile tossed off at a gulp, "I want you to act as my private
detective and watch a certain house for me, and to inform me of
everything that goes on there. You are to call here at least once every
day, and if I am out you are to leave a written message in a sealed
envelope. I will pay you well, provided you allow no one to become
acquainted with your movements, and you are not to tell a single soul
as to where I am, or what I am doing. Is that well understood?"
"Oh, monsieur, if you only knew me better, you would be convinced that
you have selected the best private detective in all Paris. I have
frequently undertaken little commissions of this sort when travelling
for my firm."
"Good! That will do. Now what do you consider a fair return for doing
me this service?"
"Ah! I see monsieur is generous--I leave it to him."
"Well," said Pierre, lighting a fresh cigarette, and blowing a few
whiffs in silence, "let me see. Supposing I pay you ten francs a day.
What do you say to that?"
"Oh, mon cher monsieur!--"
"Don't address me as 'mon cher,'" Pierre interrupted. "Please remember
you are my servant, and not my equal."
"Pardon, monsieur, a thousand apologies, it was my great appreciation
of your nobility of character that warmed my heart towards you and
impelled me to say this."
"Look here, Monsieur Emile, if you think you are going to get round me
by that sort of blarney you're jolly mistaken. Tell me what you are
prepared to accept, and don't try on any more of your monkey-brand soap
on me, it won't wash. You'll provoke me to say something in a moment
that you won't like. Now out with it. How much?"
"Ah! Monsieur is too cruel. The last time I undertook a commission like
this I reluctantly accepted a hundred francs a day, but as I have taken
a great fancy to you I will make an immense sacrifice and accept fifty
francs."
"I suppose you think I'm a soft-headed idiot, and that I believe all
your silly tales. Well, I may as well be frank and tell you that I
don't believe a word you say. Look here, I'll offer you fifteen francs
a day, and not a sou more. You may take it or leave it as you please."
Emile Levasseur cowed under the stern voice of Pierre, and seeing that
the game was up, shrugged his shoulders, and spreading out the palms of
his hands in a supplicatory fashion with a look of intense resignation
and reluctance, accepted the offer.
Pierre gave a smile of satisfaction at the success of his
counter-stroke, and after giving his now engaged detective a few more
instructions, rang the bell, and ordered his valet to show him out.
Emile was no match for a determined man, but having extremely plausible
ways, he generally succeeded in gaining his ends with the lower class
of women, and especially servant girls. Hence his first manoeuvre to
establish a footing in Villebois's house was by pandering to the vanity
of the doctor's female servants. By means of a little subtle flattery,
a kiss or two, and a few francs carefully invested in scents and cheap
ribbons, he soon won the favour of the housemaid. From her he learnt
all the goings-on in the house--the death-like trance of Delapine,
the interrupted autopsy on the body, the discovery of the hypodermic
syringe and the needle, and the visits of Messieurs Biron and Roux.
A couple of days later as Emile was loafing round the house during
the evening, he noticed Villebois and Marcel engaged in earnest
conversation in the garden. Thinking it might prove useful, he managed
to climb over the wall and creep up to them in the dusk. He found an
excellent hiding place quite close to them behind one of the laurel
bushes. Emile could not catch all they said, but he distinctly heard
Villebois say to Marcel, "Go to Pierre's club 'the circle des Italiens'
in the Avenue de l'Opera, and inform him from me that he must quit
France to-night, or he will be arrested to-morrow for the murder of
Delapine. All is discovered and the game is up, and if his father hears
of his arrest it will certainly kill him."
As they moved down the path Emile lost the rest of the conversation.
He remained concealed until Villebois and Marcel had entered the
house, and then creeping along the garden wall he succeeded in passing
unobserved into the street.
Presently he saw Marcel come out of the house and hurry past. Emile
watched him drive off in a fiacre, and hurried after him on foot,
seeking all the time in vain for some means of overtaking him. Five
minutes or more elapsed, but no vehicle could be seen. At length Emile
threw up his hands in despair, and was on the point of abandoning the
task as hopeless, when he saw a private motor-car coming along with
two men inside. As he rushed into the middle of the road and waved his
hands in front of the advancing car, the chauffeur brought the powerful
Mercèdes to a stand, and demanded an explanation of the stoppage.
"A thousand pardons, gentlemen," said Emile, assuming a most bewitching
smile of the very latest pattern, "but my car has broken down, and it
is imperative that I should reach my club in the Avenue de l'Opera
immediately. If I might trespass on your kindness, and ask you to drive
me?"
The two men looked at each other and hesitated, but Emile handed them
his visiting card with an elegant flourish, and a courtly bow. The card
handed to the occupants of the Mercèdes bore a crown in the centre,
and in ornamental copperplate letters appeared underneath:--
[Illustration:
_Le Comte de Saint-Beuve._
_Chateau de Forest,
Fontainbleau._]
This at once decided the case, and delighted that they had a gentleman
of such good rank and courtly bearing for a companion, they had no
hesitation in granting his request, and cordially inviting him to be
seated, they drove away to the club.
As the car pulled up at the entrance, one of the pages opened the door,
and Emile, shaking hands with his two friends, majestically stepped
out. Mounting the steps in a dignified manner, he passed by the portier
as if the place belonged to him, without even deigning to look round.
Entering one of the writing rooms, he hastily scribbled a note, and
descending at once he stood at the entrance of the club awaiting the
arrival of Marcel.
A few minutes afterwards his quarry appeared, and Emile, walking up to
him, hat in hand: "Excuse me sir, are you Monsieur Marcel?"
"Yes, that is my name. Why do you address me?"
"Because Monsieur Pierre Duval gave me this note for you."
Marcel looked very surprised at receiving a letter from Pierre as he
could not imagine how Pierre could divine that he would call, but he at
once took the proffered letter, and tearing open the envelope read as
follows:--
"Dear Marcel,
I much regret to have missed you, but I have just received an urgent
telegram calling me away to defend a case at Orleans which will
probably detain me for a few days. A letter addressed to the Hotel de
la Pucelle will find me. So sorry to have missed you.
A bientôt,
Pierre."
While Marcel was reading the note Emile passed out of the club, and was
speedily lost to sight.
"This is awkward," muttered Marcel, "still it will give him time to
escape if Villebois writes him to-night. Well, it can't be helped,
I must see Villebois, and he can write or send a wire to warn him.
Anyhow, I can do no good by staying here." So saying he retraced his
steps, and hailing a taxi soon found himself once more in Passy.
Entirely ignorant of what had just transpired, Pierre went home to
dinner, followed at a little distance by Emile. Hardly was his meal
finished when a ring was heard at the door.
"Ah," said Pierre, "I expect that rascal Emile has come to see me. I
wonder what he has to say this time."
A moment later Emile was shown into the room.
"I have important news for monsieur," was his opening remark as he laid
his hat and cane on a chair.
"Well, be quick and let me know what it is. I have not much time."
"But, before I begin, perhaps monsieur will settle my little account?"
said Emile, reflecting that when Pierre heard the news, he would have
more important matters to think about than the settlement of the little
bill.
"Well, here are two napoleons, that is all I can spare at the moment,
and if you don't bring me more news than you have done hitherto you may
whistle for any more money from me."
"Oh," replied Emile as he pocketed the coins, "monsieur may be certain
that I will give him plenty of news to-night, plenty of news, he may be
quite sure."
"Now tell me what you have to say, and be quick about it," said Pierre,
lighting a fresh cigarette.
"Monsieur will pardon me if I say that my news is not to be told too
quickly, and perhaps monsieur himself will see when I have finished
that the need for haste is not a matter for me."
While Emile was speaking Pierre nonchalantly turned his back on his
visitor and was busying himself with the pages of a railway guide. At
the totally unexpected words of Emile, uttered in a quiet and almost
dignified manner, the young advocate turned sharply round, and was
about to deliver a scathing rebuke to his impertinent employee, but the
words died on his lips and a sickening feeling of dread crept over him
when he saw Emile draw up a chair and calmly seat himself alongside the
small table standing between them. Summoning as much indifference into
his tone as he was able to under the circumstances, he said:
"Pray, do not consider me, make yourself quite at home. But I may
remark, however, that up to this moment I was under the impression that
I was the master here."
"It is my fond hope that monsieur may long remain free to be the master
in his own house," replied Emile, looking straight into the eyes of
Pierre. "But," he added slowly, "if monsieur will deign to accept the
help of his humble ally----"
"Understand me once for all," interrupted Pierre haughtily, "I do
not make allies of my servants; if you have any news to report, say
briefly what it is. Have you carried out my instructions and obtained
information from Dr. Villebois's servants?"
"Yes, monsieur, I have not only gained my news from the servants, but
I have obtained most valuable information from the lips of the eminent
Dr. Villebois himself."
"Ah, and what had he to say?" asked Pierre anxiously.
"That is the very matter which I desire to discuss with monsieur,"
replied Emile.
"How do you mean, discuss?" answered Pierre angrily. "You are not here
to discuss; your place is to report, and that's what you are paid for.
You seem to forget yourself when you talk to me about discussing my
business with me."
Nettled at the tone of superiority adopted by Pierre, Emile put up a
warning hand to interrupt, "I think monsieur will be very glad to pay
me a very large sum of money to make me forget. Sit down, monsieur, sit
down," he added, "and we will come to a little arrangement about what
Dr. Villebois was good enough to inform your ally and friend."
Something in his visitor's manner and looks caused Pierre to see that
the time for bravado and bluff was past, and with a contemptuous sneer
at the figure opposite him, he sat down at the further side of the
table.
"Monsieur would prefer to smoke perhaps," said Emile insinuatingly.
"The cigarette has a wonderfully soothing effect on the nerves when
they are shaken."
"Damn you, say what you have to say," snarled Pierre, "and get out of
this."
"I would remind monsieur that politeness is not only a great virtue,
but on occasions like this it is also the best policy."
"What do you mean by occasions like this? Explain yourself, I do not
understand."
"Monsieur will do better not to adopt that tone with me. I am here as
his friend if----"
"If what?"
"If it will please monsieur to pay me----"
"Pay you for what?"
"For my devotion to the interests of monsieur in coming to him first
with my news instead of going to the prefecture and telling the police
that monsieur has murdered Professor Delapine."
"What! Do you insinuate that I murdered the professor? How dare you,
scoundrel!" he cried, jumping up from his chair white with passion
and fear, while his face gradually became ashy pale, and a cold sweat
broke over him. Reaching forward he poured out a full measure of brandy
with a trembling hand, and swallowed it down at a gulp. "What are you
staring at, you idiot?" he said, trembling all over. "Have you nothing
else to tell me? Well then get out, I have no further use for you; and
mind, if you breathe a word to a living soul about this, by God, I will
kill you like a dog. What are you doing standing still like a born
fool that you are? Get out, I say, do you hear me?" he cried as Emile
hesitated to depart.
"I wish to assure monsieur," said Emile, who displayed great control
over his voice, but an extraordinary want of tact, "that it was only my
great devotion to him that prevented me from informing the police this
evening, and monsieur would have been arrested immediately. Now, if
monsieur will make me a little present, just enough to make it worth my
while----"
"What! you infernal devil," interrupted Pierre, his voice becoming
husky with passion as he rose from the table and looked at Emile with
eyes blazing with fury. "Do you mean to tell me that you require me to
muzzle your mouth with gold in order to secure your silence?"
"Ah! monsieur, we have all got to live, and for a thousand francs--a
mere trifle to monsieur--I close my eyes, and for another couple of
thousand more I close my lips, and I will never tell the police, or
even your father."
"You limb of satan, you hellish fiend. By God, I swear I'll tear your
lying tongue out of your mouth, and break every bone in your damned
body," cried Pierre, and seizing a champagne bottle he hurled it with
all his force at Emile's head as the imp tried to escape from the room.
Emile ducked, and the bottle just caught the top of his head, causing
a deep gash, and knocking him down as if he had been pole-axed. The
blood trickled down his face, and Pierre was afraid for the moment that
he had killed him. Hurrying out of the room he fetched a pail of water
and some towels, and tying one of them tightly over the wound he soon
stopped the bleeding. In a few minutes he had mopped up all the blood,
and removed every trace of it from the floor, and seeing that Emile was
not seriously hurt, propped him up in a chair and rang the bell.
"Joseph," he said to his servant, as the latter stared at Emile propped
up like a Chinese idol with a towel twisted into a turban round his
head. "Don't be alarmed, my friend has had the misfortune to cut his
head with a champagne bottle as he was opening it, he will soon be all
right again. Kindly go and fetch a fiacre as soon as possible, and see
that he is driven to his diggings. By the way, Joseph," he added, "I
shan't want you this evening, so you may go out and amuse yourself if
you like, and remember," he continued, in as calm a voice as he could
command, "not a word about this to anyone. This accident was purely his
own fault, and as you see, he is not badly hurt."
"Thank you, sir," said Joseph, as he felt relieved at seeing Emile
beginning to wake up. "Have you any further orders, sir?"
"No, Joseph, no, that will do, only be quick and get this fellow out of
the way. His presence is getting on my nerves," added Pierre, becoming
excited again.
A fiacre was soon brought, and Emile was bundled in.
"Where shall I drive to?" asked the cocher.
"Oh! anywhere you please," said Pierre, who had assisted Joseph in
getting him in, "only don't bring him back here."
The cocher drove off, and Emile, recovering somewhat, shouted to the
coachman to turn round and drive to the General's house.
As soon as Joseph had departed, Pierre set to work to pack up his
possessions, and collect his papers and valuables together.
"Now," he said, consulting a railway time-table, "I shall be able to
catch the midnight train for Bordeaux. That will suit me nicely, and I
can alter my appearance so that my own mother would not recognise me."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 16: "Heaven provides that man shall ne'er by crime to
happiness attain."]