"You know, monsieur," continued the broker, "that in such a business as
mine, one is obliged to see a great many jewellers every day; well, in
the course of my peregrinations, I found at a jeweller's--you must allow
me to withhold his name--some pearls, which I am certain you will find
are a wonderful bargain...."
"For the last time, madame, I do not want a wonderful bargain!"
The agent smiled curiously.
"There are some things which simply do not allow themselves to be
refused," she declared.... She now drew from her pocket a little
jewel-case; and, notwithstanding Thomery's unconcealed impatience,
opened it, and selected two pearls which she held out to him.
"Do examine these jewels! You are going to tell me that they are
perfectly beautiful, are you not, Monsieur Thomery?"
The diamond broker offered them so naturally that Thomery gave way. He
examined the pearls: he was a connoisseur.
"In truth, madame, these pearls are superb; unfortunately I am not
enough of an expert to buy them without taking competent advice, that is
if I thought of acquiring them eventually, but I repeat, I have no wish
to acquire such things!"
"Deuce take it!" thought Thomery. "This broker won't take 'no' for an
answer! Since I cannot rid myself of her by being pleasant, I shall make
myself disagreeable!"
But the would-be seller still insisted.
"Monsieur, you really cannot be a connoisseur, otherwise I am sure you
would not return these pearls to me."
"But, madame!..."
"And I am convinced that if Princess Sonia Danidoff had had them in her
hand instead of you, she would have been greatly taken with them!"
The broker had emphasised her words so strangely that, suddenly, Thomery
hesitated.
What did this mysterious visitor mean? What was it she considered so
"extraordinary" about the jewels she had just submitted to him?... A
suspicion flashed across his mind.
"Whence come these pearls, madame?"
But, at this question, the broker got up.
"Monsieur Thomery," declared she, "I should be very vexed with myself
were I to make you lose your evening ... your time is precious; besides,
in order to give you a proper answer to your question, I should have to
make certain of facts I only now guess at.... Still, I think that
without having told you anything definite, I have made you sufficiently
understand what is in my mind,... you will not now doubt the interest
that the Princess Sonia Danidoff would have, were she able to examine
these jewels...."
"Is that so?"
"Consequently, Monsieur Thomery, I am going to ask you if you will
kindly show these pearls to the Princess; and then if you will be good
enough to let me know what decision you come to, jointly with her.... If
you were a buyer, I fancy I might let you have these jewels on quite
exceptional terms."
Thomery visibly hesitated.... He was looking at the pearls, which he was
still holding in his hand, and he thought.
"One might swear that these are two of the pearls stolen from Sonia at
my ball!"
Thomery did not reply at once. The broker was looking at him with a
smile; she seemed to guess his thoughts. Thomery, on his side, was
examining the woman.
"Is she simply a police informer?" he asked himself. "One of these women
who apparently are dealers, but are really in the pay of the police, and
frequent jewellers for the purpose of tracing stolen jewels?"
He was on the verge of asking her who she was, but he refrained.
If this woman had not presented herself under her true colours,
evidently she wished to pass for an ordinary dealer. It was possible
that she was really a receiver of stolen goods!
Thomery came to a decision.
"I shall have the privilege of seeing the Princess Danidoff to-morrow
afternoon; will you therefore leave the pearls with me?... I will show
them to her. Should she express the slightest wish to possess them, I
might possibly come to terms with you...."
* * * * *
"Dearest, it is sweet of you to make no objection to the way in which I
obtained this jewel for you to see, and to choose for your own, if you
will.... The correct thing would have been to ask you to accompany me to
some well-known jeweller, instead of which, I frankly confess, that
these pearls were offered to me on very advantageous terms. If they
please you, it will give me the greatest pleasure to see them adorning
your graceful neck."
Princess Sonia laughed.
"My dear, for Heaven's sake, don't worry about such a thing as that!...
A pearl is not less beautiful because it comes from some unpretentious
jeweller's shop. I am too fond of jewels for their own sake, to trouble
about the casket that enshrines them!"
Thomery bowed, well pleased.
"Here then, dear Sonia, are the two pearls entrusted to me as samples
... please, dearest, examine them carefully, very carefully ... and if
you like them, tell me so frankly...."
The Princess took the two pearls from the betrothed, and, crossing the
great drawing-room, she approached one of the bay windows, lifting the
thin hangings that she might the better examine the pearls.
"They are marvellous!" she cried.
"Dear Sonia, you think these gems rarely beautiful?"
"Indeed I do! Their lustre is superb; their quality, their shape,
perfect!... Why, my dear, these are the most splendid pearls I have ever
seen--with one exception--the only pearls to equal them are those that
were stolen from me!... The loss of them has been a bitter grief ...
they came to me, you know, from my dear mother!... I never thought to
find pearls of such quality again...."
"You consider these to be of as pure a quality then, dear?"
Sonia Danidoff continued to examine the two pearls.
"It is really extraordinary," she cried suddenly. "Do you know, my dear,
there are certain peculiarities about their lustre,... yes ... I could
swear that these very pearls you are offering me are two of those stolen
from me!..."
Thomery appeared to have been impatiently awaiting these very words.
"You really, truly believe, Sonia, that they resemble the pearls stolen
from you that unlucky evening?"
"I repeat--they are identical!"
Thomery looked smilingly at Sonia.
"Well, then, my dear one, I do not think you are mistaken!... I have all
sorts of reasons for supposing that they really are two of your own
pearls you are now holding in your hand...." And, then and there,
Thomery told his fiancee all about the strange visit he had received the
evening before, as well as his hope that he would be able to recover
the stolen triple collar in its entirety.
"That intriguing dealer," said he finally, "must be a police
informer.... In any case, I am persuaded that, before long, she will
take me to some receiver or other who is in possession of your pearl
collar."
"Oh, tell me you are not going among such people, all alone?" cried
Sonia, with a note of sharp anxiety in her voice.
"But, why not?"
"If they are, as you think, thieves?"
"Well?"
"Well! Don't you see, my dear, that if you go to buy the pearls, they
will count on your bringing a large sum of money with you!... Why, it
would be a most imprudent thing to do!..."
Thomery shrugged his shoulders.
"Really, that's nonsense, Sonia! If these assassins meant to set a trap
for me, they have a thousand other means of doing so ... besides, it
would be remarkably daring of them to advise me to show you these
pearls, and draw my attention to the question of their being stolen
ones!... No, Sonia, this dealer is not the emissary of a band of robbers
and assassins: she is a police informer, who has taken precautions. I
run no dangerous risks by accompanying her! Reassure yourself on that
point!..."
But Sonia Danidoff was not reassured by Thomery's arguments.
"All that only frightens me!" said she.... "If you do not really think
you are running any risk, will you let me go with you?... My dear, we
will go together to identify those pearls, will we not?"
Thomery rose to take his leave, laughing and protesting.
"Why, dear Sonia, it would be in the highest degree improper on my part,
were I to agree to such a proposition!... One of two things: either
there is no danger, and I should be very sorry that I had let you go out
in such shocking weather; or, if there is danger, I should be still
more distressed were I to drag you into it with me.... I do beg of you,
Sonia, do not insist on it.... I am not a child!... And I will be very
careful--very wary!..."
* * * * *
Shortly after this, Thomery took leave of Sonia Danidoff. He went
straight to the Cafe de la Paix, where he had arranged to meet the
diamond broker....
She was punctual. She greeted Thomery with her most winning smile.
"I am persuaded, monsieur, that Madame Sonia Danidoff was interested by
the offer you made her?"
"Quite so," replied Thomery.... "Should we go to your jeweller's,
without further loss of time?"
"If you really wish to do so, monsieur! Indeed it would be the best
thing to do...."
Thomery hailed a cab. He and the diamond agent entered it together, and
she gave the driver an address. Twenty minutes later they left the cab
and were standing before the house where the present possessor of the
pearls was to be found. Thomery knew no more now about the person he had
come to interview, than he did when he started: that is to say,
practically nothing.
The diamond broker had cleverly evaded giving any direct answers to the
sugar refiner's questions: she had confined herself to stating what
would be the probable price demanded for the pearl collar--which
question interested Thomery least of all!
They mounted, in single file, a rather poor sort of staircase: on the
second floor the woman stopped. A narrow door faced them.... The woman
rang.... They waited....
"Someone is coming!" said the woman. "I hear footsteps."
The door was opened half-way.
"Who is it?" asked a man's voice.
"I, dear friend," answered the woman.
The door opened wide: the same voice said:
"Come in, monsieur."
Thomery had barely stepped inside the room, when the diamond broker, who
was close behind, flung a long silk scarf round his neck, and, pushing
his knee into his victim's back for a support, he attempted to give,
with Herculean force, the famous stroke of Father Francis Vigozous;
energetic, Thomery did not lose his presence of mind.... He knew that to
resist such a pull by simple force was impossible.... Quickly he threw
himself backwards, thus giving to the strangling pull and falling on top
of the woman, who had played this dastardly trick on him. From his
constricted throat came a hoarse "Ah!" like a death rattle.
As he was falling, for one flashing second, it seemed as though he were
going to escape from the vise which was crushing in his throat... then,
out of the shadow, there had appeared the fantastic vision of a man in a
tight fitting sort of black jersey, which covered him from head to
foot.... His face was concealed by a hooded mask....
This man had leapt out of the shadow.
He held a dagger in his hand.
Before Thomery had time to make a movement, the masked man had pierced
his chest with a single stroke!... The sugar refiner was naught but a
convulsive corpse.
"Ah, well!" declared the so-called diamond broker, who had got to his
feet and was kicking Thomery's body aside. "Ah, well, he is a dead
weight this fellow!... By Jove, master, I fancied he was going to crush
me, and that I should have to let him free!... You did well to come to
the rescue!"
The masked man remarked in an indifferent tone:
"It really does not matter in the slightest!... Tell me, does anyone
suspect?"
"No one, master. He came like a sheep to the slaughter."
"Princess Danidoff?"
"Ah, as for her--she must be waiting for the return of her beloved
friend.... I do not advise you to pay her a visit!"
"Be silent, chatter-box!" ordered the masked assassin sharply. "Get rid
of your clothes.... We must hurry!... We have work to do!"
"This evening?"
"This evening!"
And, whilst the diamond broker rid himself rapidly of skirt and bodice
and regained his masculine appearance--for this diamond broker was a
man--the masked assassin added:
"Nibet, you have played your part perfectly, and I will pay you
to-morrow the sum we agreed on; but, I repeat, we have work before us
this evening--so, be quick!"
There was a short silence, then the bandit asked:
"You have arranged to put among this fool's papers the rent receipts,
which will enable the police to find this flat?"
"Yes, master!"
"Good! Now all we have to do, is to get away from this room, which we
shall not see again ... until this evening at any rate!"
XXI
IN A PRISON VAN
In one of the rooms reserved for readers of _La Capitale_, Jerome Fandor
was gravely listening to Madame Bourrat's account of what had occurred
at her boarding-house during the night. She had rushed off to tell him
and to ask his advice.
"What you tell me, madame, is truly extraordinary!" said Fandor, with an
air of profound astonishment....
"How did you discover that the police inspector who seized the trunk and
carried it away was not a genuine policeman?"
"Why, through the arrival of Monsieur Xavie, the police inspector of our
district! I know him.... There was no mistaking who and what he was; and
when I told him that the trunk had been carried off the preceding
evening, rather in the dead of night, he guessed everything...."
"And what did he say?..."
"Oh, he made us all come to the police station; and I can assure you
that he looked far from pleased!"
"You must admit, dear madame, that his annoyance was not without
reason!... The police were made fine fools of in this affair.... But
afterwards?... Whom did he take back with him to the police station?"
"He took me and my manservant."
"And when you got to the police station?"
"Well, Monsieur Fandor, when we reached the police station, he made us
come into his office, and there he put us through a regular
examination,... just as though he suspected us!"
"But there must have been an accomplice in your house who let the
robbers in," said Fandor. "I do not suppose the false police inspector
forced the door open!"
"Ah, but, Monsieur Fandor, here is something I do not understand, nor
does anybody else!... No, they did not try to hide themselves--not the
least in the world! They rang the bell; they asked to see me; they told
me what they had come for; and, accompanied by my manservant, carried
away the trunk, and had it put on the cab--all in the most open and
bare-faced manner!"
"It was your manservant who accompanied them?"
"But most certainly ... and that very fact turned against Jules, in a
very nasty manner.... Poor Jules! Just imagine, the police inspector
finished by ordering my house to be thoroughly searched from top to
bottom! And when the policemen returned, without a why or wherefore,
they took Jules away to another part of the police station!"
"I say! I say!"
"Oh, it was all explained! As soon as Jules had gone, the police
inspector told me that they had found keys in his rooms, keys which
could be made to fit any kind of lock whatever. Monsieur Xavie was
convinced that my poor Jules was a burglar--imagine it!"
"And you, yourself, madame, are convinced of the contrary?"
"Oh, assuredly! Why, I have known Jules a very long time! And in many
little ways on many occasions, he has shown himself to be strictly
honest."
"But those false keys?"
"Those false keys, Monsieur Fandor, why I myself made Jules buy them,
hoping to find among them one that would open my coach-house."
"So that?..."
"So that, Monsieur Fandor, the police inspector was obliged to agree
with me that Jules was honest!"
"And he released this servant of yours?" asked Fandor.
His tone expressed annoyance.
"No, and that is why I am so distressed. He said, that provisionally, at
least, my servant, Jules, was to be considered as under arrest! What
ought to be done to get him let out?"
"But, madame!... He will be set free to-morrow, you may be certain of
it!..."
"No doubt he will!... All the same, there is my house turned upside
down, and I need Jules to help me to-night!... I really do not know what
I shall do without him! Poor fellow!... I simply cannot imagine how it
is they suspect him!"
Fandor said, with mock gravity:
"Ah, madame, Justice is sometimes so stupid--so wrongheaded!... Look
here now, would you like a bit of good advice?... Telephone to Messieurs
Barbey-Nanteuil. They are well known and powerful--perhaps they would
exert their influence in your servant's favour? He might be set free
this evening! I, you see, am but a journalist, and without a scrap of
influence!"
Madame Bourrat thought this a good idea. Fandor rang for an attendant.
"Take madame to the telephone!"
Left to himself, the reporter could not help rubbing his hands.
"I must get rid of this excellent woman, who is certainly the most
foolish person it has ever been my lot to meet. Good hearing! That
servant of hers is under lock and key--things are going in the right
direction ... but they are not going well for me!... If he confesses,
to-morrow, when he is had up for examination, then the police will have
the information before me!... Then, too, they are such duffers--such
bunglers--that they are quite capable of giving that Jules his
liberty!... What the deuce must I do to prevent his being let loose, and
how am I to stop the judicial interrogation?... What a dog's life a
journalist's is!"
Madame Bourrat reappeared.
"Monsieur Nanteuil is not there," she said. "But I got into
communication with Monsieur Barbey.... He advised me to wait till
to-morrow: he said it was too late in the day to do anything...."
"But, will he not intervene to-morrow?"
"I don't know. To tell the truth, I am sure Monsieur Barbey thought it
very inconsiderate of me to disturb him about a matter in which he takes
not the slightest interest."
"That's a fact. What possible interest can the bankers take in such a
matter?... My advice was absurd!"
Fandor rose. As he was seeing his visitor out, he said:
"In any case, dear madame, count on me to-morrow morning. I shall call
at your house about eleven. If there is anything fresh, we can talk it
over!..."
* * * * *
"Oh, here's Janson-de-Sailly College!... Oh, what detestable
remembrances you conjure up!... But--this won't do!... Go it, my boy!...
I must play the part!"
The plumber, who had just given utterance to these remarks, glanced
sharply about him. When he had made sure that there was no one close on
his heels, he stepped into the roadway, and started on a zigzag course
which seemed likely to upset his balance. Crossing the avenue
Henri-Martin, going straight, towards the town hall at the corner of the
rue de la Pompe, the good plumber, who was staggering more than a
little, began to stutter and stammer in a drunken voice:
"_It is the final struggle!_"
The passers-by looked round.
"They sing the _Internationale_ in the streets now, it seems!" remarked
a severe-looking gentleman.
The workman turned to this correct personage.
"What of it?... Don't you think it a jolly fine thing then?"
In a thick voice he continued to sing:
"_Let us gather, and on the morrow..._"
The severe and correct personage spoke.
"My friend, you would do better to hold your tongue!... You forget that
there is a police station close by!..."
But the incorrigible plumber caught the correct personage by his coat
tails.
"If I sing the _Internationale_, it's because I'm a free man--ain't
I?... A free man can sing if he likes, can't he? Eh!... Why don't you
sing then?... Eh!..."
The correct personage drew himself up stiffly: tried to push the
obnoxious plumber away.... The workman had now reached that stage of
drunkenness when discussions tend to become interminable.
The gentleman pushed the drunken man aside, saying:
"Come! Come! Go away!... Leave me alone!"
But the maudlin plumber was attracting the attention of the passers by
his gestures. He addressed the world at large.
"Would you believe it--that fellow there don't want me to sing!... No!
Well, I'm going to!" and he started triumphantly.
"_It is the--the--final ... strug-gle!_"
A policeman came out of the station with a solemn air. He put his hand
on the tipsy plumber's shoulder in paternal fashion.
"Go along with you, my friend!... Come now--pass along--pass along!" But
he could not make the plumber budge before he had finished his verse,
any more than he could teach him to walk straight on the spur of the
moment!... Leaving hold of the gentleman's coat tails, the worthy
plumber seized the policeman's arm.'
"Oh, you, you're a brother!... I have education, I have! You're a
workman too, I know!..."
As the police inspector pushed him off, trying to make him go on his
way, the plumber put his arm round him.
"No! No!... show you're a workman! Sing with me!"
"_It is the final ..._"
The scandal could no longer be tolerated! Street-corner idlers were
gathering, people were laughing at the policeman: strong measures were
necessary.
"Come now," said the policeman. "Yes, or no! Will you be off, and go
home?... Eh!... Or shall I take you to the station?..."
"You take me?... You take me?... Why, it would take four of you to take
me!..."
There was no shilly-shallying after this! Wounded in his vanity, the
servant of the law did not hesitate.
"All right!" said he; and seizing the plumber by the collar, although
there was no attempt at resistance, he dragged his prisoner towards the
town hall of the district, for the police station was there also.
"Some more game for the Depot!" said the policeman as he passed the
guard.... "A fellow I can't get rid of! Are the cells full up?"
Other policemen came up. An arrest in a peaceful district gives interest
to the dull routine of the men on duty.
"The cells full? Go along with you! There's only a small shopkeeper who
had no papers."
Thereupon the unfortunate singer, who continued to stagger about, was
quickly pushed into the dark room called "the detention room."
An ordinary every day incident of the streets, this arrest of a
drunkard!
"I shall have to write out a report for this fellow!" said the
policeman, who had arrested the songster... "and the 'Salad Basket'[10]
passes in an hour's time! ... I shall just do it!"
[Footnote 10: Prison van.]
* * * * *
"Have you anyone for the Depot to-day?" asked the driver from his high
seat on the prison van. He was on a collecting journey as is usual every
evening, when the Salad Baskets, as they are vulgarly called, pass to
the various police stations of Paris to pick up the individuals arrested
during the day.
"Two of 'em," answered the police sergeant on duty. Whilst official
papers were being interchanged and forms were being filled in according
to rule, policemen went to the cells to bring out the two prisoners to
be despatched to the Depot.
The first to pass out was the costermonger. He was straightway put into
one of the narrow compartments in the Salad Basket. Then it was the turn
of the tipsy and obstreperous workman, who was now silent, moody, and
apparently sober.
"Hop it now!" cried the policeman. "Come along with you, you miserable
drunk!... March now!... Foot it!"
As the "drunk" hit against the partition of the narrow passageway
running up the middle of the Salad Basket, the policeman, with a shove,
pushed him into one of the compartments, carefully shutting the little
door on him and fastening it.
"My word!" he exclaimed. "That fellow wouldn't have been capable of
walking three steps in an hour's time!"
As the driver climbed to his seat on the van, the policeman called out,
with a laugh:
"You have a traveller inside who doesn't detest wine!... It's a pity to
see a man in such a hoggish state!"
This same policeman would have been surprised, could he have seen the
bibulous one's face when the Salad Basket cast loose from her moorings
and started off in the direction of the Point-du-Jour police station,
the last on the round to be visited!
The "drunk" whom one push had sufficed to plant on his seat, had briskly
drawn himself upright and was smiling broadly, a wide, noiseless smile!
"What a joke!... And what a jolly good actor I should have made!"
thought Jerome Fandor, giving himself a mental hug of satisfaction....
"Ah! They arrest the individuals I want to set talking!... The police
imagine they are going to push in first and find out the answer to the
riddle!... We shall see!"