A MIDNIGHT SEARCH.
Anton had to wait a long time, until he felt both cross and impatient,
and when at last Cecile and Maurice returned to the funny little attic
in the Cite, Joe almost immediately followed them.
Joe told the children that he had made very exact inquiries, and that
he believed they might start for the south the next day. He spoke, of
course, in English, and, never supposing that Anton knew a word of that
tongue was at no pains to refrain from discussing their plans in his
presence.
Anton, apparently engaged in puffing a pipe in a corner of the room
with his eyes half shut, looking stupid and half asleep, of course took
in every word.
"They would start early the next morning. Oh, yes! they were more than
welcome; they might go to the south, the farther from him the better,
always provided that he secured the purse first."
As he smoked, he laid his plans. He was quite sure that one of the
children had the purse. He suspected the one to be Joe. But to make
sure, he determined to search all three.
He must search the children that night. How should he accomplish his
search?
He thought. Bad ideas came to him. He went out.
He went straight to a chemist's, and bought a small quantity of a
certain powder. This powder, harmless in its after-effects, would cause
very sound slumber. He brought in, and contrived, unseen by anyone, to
mix it in the soup which the old grandmother was preparing for the
evening meal. All--Pericard, Toby--all should partake of this soup.
Then all would sleep soundly, and the field would be open for him; for
he, Anton, would be careful not to touch any.
He had made arrangements before with the old grandmother to have a
shake-down for the night in one of her rooms; from there it would be
perfectly easy to step into the little attic occupied by the children,
and secure the precious purse.
His plans were all laid to perfection, and when he saw six hungry
people and a dog partaking eagerly of good Mme. Pericard's really
nourishing soup, he became quite jocund in his glee.
An hour afterward the drugged food had taken effect. There was not a
sound in the attics. Anton waited yet another hour, then, stepping
softly in his stockinged feet, he entered the little room, where he
felt sure the hidden treasure awaited him.
He examined Joe first. The lad was so tired, and the effect of the drug
so potent, that Anton could even turn him over without disturbing his
slumbers. But, alas! feel as he would, there was no purse about
Joe--neither concealed about his person, nor hidden under his pillow,
was any trace of what Anton hoped and longed to find. Half a franc he
took, indeed, out of the lad's pocket--half a franc and a couple of
centimes; but that was all.
Anton had to own to himself that whoever had the purse, Joe had it not.
He went over to the next bed, and examined little Maurice. He even
turned Toby about.
Last of all, he approached where Cecile lay. Cecile, secure in her
perfect trust in the heavenly Guide, sure of the righteousness of her
great quest, was sleeping as such little ones sleep. Blessed dreams
were filling her peaceful slumbers, and there is no doubt that angels
were guarding her.
The purity of the white face on which the moon shone filled the bad man
who approached her with a kind of awe. He did not call the feeling that
possessed him by that name; nevertheless, he handled the child
reverently.
He felt under the pillow, he felt in the little frock. Ah! good and
clever Miss Smith! so thoroughly, so well had she done her work, that
no touch of hard metal came to Anton's fingers, no suspicion of the
money so close to him entered his head.
Having heard at Warren's Grove of a purse, it never occurred to him to
expect money in any other way. No trace of that Russia-leather purse
was to be found about Cecile. After nearly an hour spent in prowling
about, he had to leave the children's room discomfited; discomfited
truly, and also not wholly unpunished. For Toby, who had been a good
deal satisfied with rolls and morsels of butter, in the feast made
earlier in the day by Pericard, had taken so sparingly of the soup that
he was very slightly drugged, and Anton's movements, becoming less
cautious as he perceived how heavy was the sleep over the children, at
last managed to wake the dog. What instinct was over Toby I know not.
But he hated Anton. He now followed him unperceived from the room, and,
just as he got into the passage outside, managed to insert his strong
teeth deep into his leg. The pain was sharp and terrible, and the thief
dared not scream. He hit Toby a blow, but not a very hard one, for the
dog was exactly behind him. Toby held on for a moment or two,
ascertained that the wound was both deep and painful, then retreated to
take up his post by Cecile's pillow. Nor did the faithful creature
close his eyes again that night. Anton, too, lay awake. Angry and
burning were his revengeful thoughts. He was more determined than ever
to find the purse, not to let his victims escape him. As to Toby, he
would kill him if he could. There seemed little doubt now that the
children had not the purse with them. Still Anton remembered Joe's
confused manner when he had sounded him on the subject of money. Anton
felt sure that Joe knew where the purse was. How could he force his
secret from the lad? How could he make him declare where the gold was
hidden? A specious, plausible man, Anton had, as I before said, made
friends with Joe. Joe in a moment of ill-advised confidence had told to
Anton his own sad history. Anton pondering over it now in the darkness,
for there was no moon shining into _his_ bedroom, felt that he could
secure a very strong hold over the lad.
Joe had been apprenticed to a Frenchman, who taught him to dance and
play the fiddle. Anton wondered what the law bound these apprentices
to. He had a hazy idea that, if they ran away, the punishment was
severe. He hoped that Joe had broken the law. Anton resolved to learn
more about these apprentice laws. For this purpose he rose very early
in the morning and went out. He was absent for about two hours. When he
returned he had learned enough to make up a bad and frightening tale.
Truly his old plans had been defeated in the night. But in the morning
he had made even worse than these. He came in to find the children
awakening from the effects of their long slumber, and Joe audibly
lamenting that they were not already on their way.
"Not yet," said Anton, suddenly dropping his French and speaking to the
astonished children in English as good as their own, "I have a word to
say about that same going away. You come out with me for a bit, my lad."
Joe, still heavy from the drug, and too amazed to refuse, even if he
wished to do so, stumbled to his feet and obeyed.
Cecile and Maurice chatted over the wonderful fact of Anton knowing
English, and waited patiently. There was no Pericard to amuse them
to-day; he had gone out long ago. They waited one hour--two
hours--three hours, still no Joe appeared. At the end of about four
hours there was a languid step on the stairs, and the lad who had gone
away--God knows with how tranquil a heart--reappeared.
Where was his gayety? Where had the light in his dark eyes vanished to?
His hands trembled. Fear was manifest on his face. He came straight up
to Cecile, and clasping her little hands between both his own, which
trembled violently, spoke.
"Oh, Cecile! he's a bad man. He's a bad, bad man, and I am ruined.
We're all ruined, Cecile. Is there any place we can hide in--is there
any place? I must speak to you, and he'll be back in half an hour. I
must speak to you, Cecile, before he comes back."
"Let's run away," said Cecile promptly. "Let's run away at once before
he comes again. There must be lots of hiding places in Paris. Oh!
here's Pericard. Pericard, I know, is faithful. You ask Pericard to
hide us, Joe. To hide us at once before Anton comes back."