MASTER GAMAIN TURNS UP.
One morning, while these events were occurring at the temple, a man
wearing a red shirt and cap to match, leaning on a crutch to help him
to hobble along, called on the Home Secretary, Roland. The minister
was most accessible; but even a republican official was forced to have
ushers in his ante-chamber, as went on in monarchical governments.
"What do you want?" challenged the servant of the man on the crutch.
"I want to speak with the Citizen Minister," replied the cripple.
Since a fortnight, the titles of citizen and citizeness had officially
replaced all others.
"You will have to show a letter of audience," replied the domestic.
"Halloo! I thought that was all very fine fun in the days when the
tyrant ruled, but folks ought to be equals under the Republic, or at
least not so aristocratic."
This remark set the servant thinking.
"I can tell you that it is no joke," continued the man in red, "to
drag all the way from Versailles to do the Secretary of State a service
and not to get a squint of him."
"Oh, you come to do Citizen Roland a service, do you?"
"To show up a conspiracy."
"Pooh! we are up to our ears in conspiracies. If that is all you came
from Versailles for, I suggest you get back."
"I don't mind; but your minister will be deuced sorry for not seeing
me."
"It is the rule. Write to him and get a letter of audience; then you
will get on swimmingly."
"Hang me if it is not harder to get a word in to Minister Roland than
to his majesty Louis XVI. that was."
"What do you know about that?"
"Lord help your ignorance, young man; there was a time when I saw the
king whenever I pleased; my name would tell you that."
"What is your name? Are you King Frederick William or the Emperor
Francis?"
"No; I am not a tyrant or a slave-driver--no aristo--but just Nicholas
Claude Gamain, master of the masters of my trade of locksmithery. Did
you never hear of Master Gamain who taught the craft to old Capet?"
The footman looked questioningly at his fellows, who nodded.
"Then it is another pair of shoes. Write your name on a sheet of paper,
and I will send it in to the Home Secretary."
"Write? It is all very easy to say write, but I was no dabster at the
pen before these villains tried to poison me; and it is far worse now.
Just look how they doubled me up with arsenic."
He showed his twisted legs, deviated spine, and hand curled up like a
claw.
"What! did they serve you out thus, poor old chap?"
"They did. And that is what I have come to show the Citizen Minister,
along with other matters. As I hear they are getting up the indictment
against old Capet, what I have to tell must not be lost for the nation."
Five minutes afterward, the locksmith was shown into the official's
presence.
The master locksmith had never, at the height of his fortune and in the
best of health, worn a captivating appearance; but the malady to which
he was a prey, articular rheumatism in plain, while twisting his limbs
and disfiguring his features, had not added to his embellishments. The
outcome was that never had an honest man faced a more ruffianly looking
rogue than Roland when left alone with Gamain.
The minister's first feeling was of repugnance; but seeing how he
trembled from head to foot, pity for a fellow-man, always supposing
that a wretch like Gamain is a fellow to a Roland, led him to use as
his first words:
"Take a seat, citizen; you seem in pain."
"I should rather think I am in pain," replied Gamain, dropping on a
chair; "and I have been so ever since the Austrian poisoned me."
At these words a profound expression of disgust passed over the
hearer's countenance, while he exchanged a glance with his wife, half
hidden in the window recess.
"And you came to denounce this poisoning?"
"That and other things."
"Do you bring proof of your accusations?"
"For that matter, you have only to come with me to the Tuileries and I
will give you piles of it. I will show you the secret hole in the wall
where the brigand hid his hoard. I ought to have guessed that the wine
was poisoned that the Austrian sneaked out to offer me, a-saying, with
her wheedling voice: 'Here you are, Gamain! drink this glass of wine;
it will do you good now the work is done.'"
"Poisoned?"
"Yes; everybody knows," continued Gamain, with sullen hate, "that those
who help kings to conceal treasures never make old bones."
"There is something at the bottom of this," said Mme. Roland, coming
forward at his glance; "this was the smith who was the king's tutor.
Ask him about the hole in the wall."
"The press?" said Gamain, who had overheard. "Why, I am here to lay
that open. It is an iron safe, with a lock-bolt working both ways, in
which Citizen Capet hid his private papers and savings."
"How did you come to know about it?"
"Did he not send for me to show him how to finish the lock, one he made
himself, and of course would not work smoothly?"
"But this press would be smashed and rifled in the capture of the
Tuileries."
"There is no danger of that. I defy anybody in the world to get the
idea of it, barring him and me."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure and certain. It is just the same as when he left the Tuileries."
"What do you say to all this, Madeleine?" asked Roland of his wife,
when they had listened to Gamain's story, told in his prolix style.
"I say the revelation is of the utmost importance, and no time must be
lost in verifying it."
The secretary rang for his carriage, whereupon Gamain stood up sulkily.
"I see you have had enough of me," he grumbled.
"Why, no; I only ring for my carriage."
"What! do ministers have carriages under the Republic?"
"They have to do so, to save time, my friend. I call the carriage so
that we shall be quickly at the Tuileries. But what about the key to
the safe?--it is not likely Louis XVI. left it in the key-hole."
"Why, certainly not, for our fat Capet is not such a fool as he looks.
Here is a duplicate," he continued, drawing a new key from his pocket;
"I made it from memory. I tell you I am the master of my craft. I
studied the lock, fancying some day--"
"This is an awful scoundrel," said Roland to his wife.
"Yes; but we have no right to reject any information coming to us in
the present state of affairs in order to arrive at a knowledge of the
truth. Am I to go with you?" asked the lady.
"Certainly, as there are papers in the case. Are you not the most
honest _man_ I know?"
Gamain followed them to the door, mumbling:
"I always said that I would pay old Capet out for what he did to me.
What Louis XVI. did was kindness."