The Champdoce Mystery 28 – Gaboriau · Verses Across
Literature · Detective Fiction
The Champdoce Mystery 28The Tempter
18
Literature · Detective Fiction
The Champdoce Mystery 28
The Tempter
GaboriauEnglish
By this time Tantaine was in the Champs Elysees, and stared anxiously around. “If my Toto makes no mistake,” muttered he, “surely my order was plain enough.”
The old man got very cross as he at last perceived the missing lad conversing with the proprietor of a pie-stall, having evidently been doing a little jawing with him.
“Toto,” he called, “Toto, come here.”
Toto Chupin heard him, for he looked round, but he did not move, for he was certainly much interested in the conversation he was carrying on. Tantaine shouted again, and this time more angrily than before, and Toto, reluctantly leaving his companion, came slowly up to his patron.
“You have been a nice time getting here,” said the lad sulkily. “I was just going to cut it. Ain’t you well that you make such a row? If you ain’t, I’d better go for a doctor.
“I am in a tremendous hurry, Toto.”
“Yes, and so is the postman when he is behind time. I’m busy too.”
“What, with the man you have just left?”
“Yes; he is a sharper chap than I am. How much do you earn every day, Daddy Tantaine? Well, that chap makes his thirty or forty francs every night, and does precious little for it. I should like a business like that, and I think that I shall secure one soon.”
“Have patience. I thought that you were going into business with those two young men you were drinking beer with at the Grand Turk?”
Toto uttered a shrill cry of anger at these words. “Business with them?” shrieked he; “they are regular clever night thieves.”
“Have they done you any harm, my poor lad?”
“Yes; they have utterly ruined me. Luckily, I saw Mascarin yesterday, and he set me up in the hot-chestnut line. He ain’t a bad one, is Mascarin.”
Tantaine curled his lip disdainfully. “Not a bad fellow, I dare say, as long as you don’t ask him for anything.”
Toto was so surprised at hearing Tantaine abuse Mascarin, that he was unable to utter a word.
“Ah, you may look surprised,” continued the old man, “but when a man is rolling in riches, and leaves an old friend to starve, then he is not what I call a real good fellow. Now, Toto, you are a bright lad, and so I don’t mind letting you know that I am only waiting for a good chance to drop Mascarin, and set up on my own account. Work for yourself, my boy.”
“I know that; but it is a good deal easier to say than to do.”
“You have tried then?”
“Yes, I have; but I came to grief over it. You know all about it as well as I do, for don’t tell me you didn’t hear every word I said that night you were hunting up Caroline Schimmel. However, I’ll tell you. One day when I saw a lady who looked rather nervous get out of a cab, I followed her. I was decently togged out, so I rang at the door. I was so sure that I was going to make a haul that I would not have taken ninety-nine francs for the hundred that I expected to make. Well, I rang, a girl opened the door, and in I went. What an ass I made of myself! I found a great brute of a man there, who thrashed me within an inch of my life, and then kicked me downstairs. See, he made his mark rather more plainly than I liked.” And removing his cap, the boy showed several bruises about his forehead.
During this conversation Tantaine and the lad had been walking slowly up the Champs Elysees, and had by this time arrived just opposite M. Gandelu’s house, where Andre was at work. Tantaine sat down on a bench.
“Let us rest a bit,” said he; “I am tired out; and now let me tell you, my lad, that your tale only shows me that it is experience you want. Now, I have any amount of that, and I was really the prime mover in most of Mascarin’s schemes. If I were to start on my own account, I should be driving in my carriage in twelve months. The only thing against my success is my age, for I am getting to be an old man. Why, even now I have a matter in my hands that is simply splendid. I have had half the money down, but I want a smart young fellow to pull it through.”
“Why couldn’t I be the smart young fellow?” asked Toto.
Tantaine shook his head. “You are as much too young as I am too old,” answered he. “At your age you are too apt to be frightened, and would shrink back at the critical time. Besides, I have a conscience.”
“And so have I,” exclaimed Toto; “and it’s grown like your own, old man; it can be stretched for miles and folded up into nothing.”
“Well, we may be able to do something,” returned Tantaine, as, drawing out a ragged check pocket-handkerchief, he wiped his glasses.
“Listen to me, my lad; I’ll put what we call a supposititious case to you. You hate those two fellows who have robbed you, for I suppose that is what you meant; well, suppose you knew that they were at work all day on a high scaffold like that one opposite to us, what would you do?”
Toto scratched his head, and remarked after a pause,--
“If that crack-jawed idea you talk of was true,” answered he, “those gay lads might as well make their wills, for I’d step up the scaffolding at night and just saw the planks that they are in the habit of clapping their toes on, half through, and when one of the mates stepped on it, why, there would be a bit of a smash, eh, Daddy Tantaine?”
“Not so bad, not so bad for a lad of your years,” said the old man with an approving smile.
Toto’s bosom swelled with pride.
“Besides,” he continued, “I would arrange matters so well that not a soul would think that I had done the trick.”
“The more I hear you speak, Chupin,” answered Tantaine, “the more I believe you are the lad I want, and I am sure that we shall make heaps of money together.”
“I am cock sure of that too.”
“You can use carpenters’ tools, I think you once told me?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” continued Tantaine, “let me tell you then that I know an old man with any amount of money, and there is a fellow whom he hates and detests, a young chap who ran off with the girl he loved.”
“The old bloke must have been jolly wild.”
“Well, to tell the truth, he wasn’t a bit pleased. Now it so happens that this gay young dog spends ten hours a day at least on that very scaffolding opposite to us. The old fellow, who has his head screwed on the right way, had the very same idea as yours, but he is too old and too stout to do the trick for himself; and, to cut the matter short, he would give five thousand francs to the persons who would carry out his idea. Just think, two thousand francs for a few cuts of a saw!”
The boy was violently agitated, but Tantaine pretended not to notice it.
“First, my lad,” said he, “I must explain to you in what measure the old gentleman’s plans are different from yours. If we did not take care, some other poor devil might break his neck, but I have hit on a dodge to avoid all this.”
“I ain’t curious, but I should like to hear it.”
Tantaine smiled blandly.
“Listen! Do you see high up; that little shed built of planks? That is used by the carvers and stone-cutters. Well, this little house, a couple of hundred feet above us, has a kind of a window; well, if this window and the planks below it were cut nearly through, any one leaning against it would be very likely to fall into the street and perhaps to hurt himself.”
Chupin nodded.
“Now, suppose,” went on Tantaine, “that the enemy of our old gentleman was in that little shed, all at once he hears a woman shriek, ‘Help! It is I you love; help me!’ what would this young fellow do? Why, he would recognize the voice, rush to the window, lean out, and as the woodwork and supports had been cut away, he would----Well, do you see now?”
Chupin hesitated for a moment.
“I don’t say I won’t,” muttered he; “but, look here, will the old chap pay down smart?”
“Yes, and besides, did I not tell you that he had given half down?”
The boy’s eyes glistened as the old man unpinned the tattered lining of his pocket, and holding the pin between his teeth, pulled out the banknotes, each one for a thousand francs. Chupin’s heart rose at the sight of this wealth.
“Is one of those for me?” asked he. Tantaine held the note towards the boy, who shuddered at the touch of the crisp paper and kissed the precious object in a paroxysm of pleasure. He then started from his seat, and regardless of the astonishment of the passers-by, executed a wild dance of triumph.
All was soon settled. Toto was to creep into the unfinished building by night, and not to leave it until he had completed his work. Tantaine, who had a thought for everything, told the boy what sort of a saw to employ, and gave him the address of a man who supplied the best class instruments.
“You must remember, my dear lad,” said he, “not to leave behind you any traces of your work which may cause suspicion. One grain of sawdust on the floor might spoil the whole game. Take a dark lantern with you, grease your saw, and rasp out the tooth-nicks of the saw when you have finished your work.”
Toto listened to the old man in surprise; he had never thought that he was of so practical a turn. He promised that he would be careful, and imagining that he had received all his directions, rose to leave; but the old man still detained him.
“Here,” said he, “suppose you tell me a little about Caroline Schimmel. You told Beaumarchef that she said I had made her scream, and that when she caught me, I should have a bad time of it, eh?”
“You weren’t my partner then,” returned the lad with an impudent laugh; “and I wanted to give you a bit of a fright. The truth is, that you made the poor old girl so drunk that she has had to go to the hospital.”
Tantaine was overjoyed at this news, and, rising from his seat, said, “Where are you living now?”
“Nowhere in particular. Yesterday I slept in a stable, but there isn’t room for all my furniture there, so I must shift.”
“Would you like to have my room for a day or two?” asked Tantaine, chuckling at the boy’s jest. “I have moved from there, but the attic is mine for another fortnight yet.”
“I’m gone; where is it?”
“You know well enough, in the Hotel de Perou, Rue de la Hachette. Then I will send a line to the landlady;” and tearing a leaf from his pocketbook, he scrawled on it a few words, saying that young relative of his, M. Chupin, was to have his room.
This letter, together with his banknote, Toto carefully tied up in the corner of his neckerchief, and as he crossed the street the old man watched him for a moment, and then stood gazing at the workmen on the scaffolding. Just then Gandelu and his son came out, and the contractor paused to give a few instructions. For a few seconds Gaston and Chupin stood side by side, and a strange smile flitted across Tantaine’s face as he noted this. “Both children of Paris,” muttered he, “and both striking examples of the boasted civilization. The dandy struts along the pavement, while the street arab plays in the gutter.”
But he had no time to spend in philosophical speculations, as the omnibus that he required appeared, and entering it, in another half-hour he entered Paul Violaine’s lodgings in the Rue Montmartre.
The portress, Mother Brigaut, was at her post as Tantaine entered the courtyard and asked,--
“And how is our young gentleman to-day?”
“Better, sir, ever so much better; I made him a lovely bowl of soup yesterday, and he drank up every drop of it. He looks like a real king this morning, and the doctor sent in a dozen of wine to-day, which will, I am sure, effect a perfect cure.”
With a smile and a nod Tantaine was making his way to the stairs, when Mother Brigaut prevented his progress.
“Some one was here yesterday,” remarked she, “asking about M. Paul.”
“What sort of a looking person was it?”
“Oh, a man like any other, nothing in particular about him, but he wasn’t a gentleman, for after keeping me for fully fifteen minutes talking and talking, he only gave me a five-franc piece.”
The description was not one that would lead to a recognition of the person, and Tantaine asked in tones of extreme annoyance,--
“Did you not notice anything particular about the man?”
“Yes, he had on gold spectacles with the mountings as fine as a hair, and a watch chain as thick and heavy as I have ever seen.”
“And is that all?”
“Yes,” answered she. “Oh! there was one thing more--the person knows that you come here.”
“Does he? Why do you think so?”
“Because all the time he was talking to me he was in a rare fidget, and always kept his eyes on the door.”
“Thanks, Mother Brigaut; mind and keep a sharp lookout,” returned Tantaine, as he slowly ascended the stairs.
Every now and then he paused to think. “Who upon earth can this fellow be?” asked he of himself. He reviewed the whole question--chances, probabilities, and risks, not one was neglected, but all in vain.
“A thousand devils!” growled he; “are the police at my heels?”
His nerves were terribly shaken, and he strove in vain to regain his customary audacity. By this time he had reached the door of Paul’s room, and, on his ringing, the door was at once opened; but at the sight of this woman he started back, with a cry of angry surprise; for it was a female figure that stood before him, a young girl--Flavia, the daughter of Martin Rigal, the banker.
The keen eyes of Tantaine showed him that Flavia’s visit had not been of long duration. She had removed her hat and jacket, and was holding in her hand a piece of fancy work.
“Whom do you wish to see, sir?” asked she.
The old man strove to speak, but his lips would not frame a single sentence. A band of steel seemed to be compressing his throat, and he appeared like a man about to be seized with an apoplectic fit.
Flavia gazed upon the shabby-looking visitor with an expression of intense disgust. It seemed to her that she had seen him somewhere; in fact, there was an inexplicable manner about him which entirely puzzled her.
“I want to speak to M. Paul,” said the old man in a low, hoarse whisper; “he is expecting me.”
“Then come in; but just now his doctor is with him.”
She threw open the door more widely, and stepped back, so that the greasy garments of the visitor might not touch her dress. He passed her with an abject bow, and crossed the little sitting-room with the air of a man who perfectly understands his way. He did not knock at the door of the bedroom, but went straight in; there a singular spectacle at once arrested his attention. Paul, with a very pale face, was seated on the bed, while Hortebise was attentively examining his bare shoulder. The whole of Paul’s right arm and shoulder was a large open wound, which seemed to have been caused by a burn or scald, and must have been extremely painful. The doctor was bending over him, applying a cooling lotion to the injured place with a small piece of sponge. He turned sharply round on Daddy Tantaine’s entrance; and so accustomed were these men to read each other’s faces at a glance that Hortebise saw at once what had happened; for Tantaine’s expression plainly said, “Is Flavia mad to be here?” while the eyes of Hortebise answered, “She may be, but I could not help it.”
Paul turned, too, and greeted the old man with an exclamation of delight.
“Come here,” said he merrily, “and just see to what a wretched state I have been reduced between the doctor and M. Mascarin.”
Tantaine examined the wound carefully. “Are you quite sure,” asked he, “that not only will it deceive the Duke, who will see but with our eyes, but also those of his wife, and perhaps of his medical man?”
“We will hoodwink the lot of them.”
“And how long must we wait,” asked the old man, “until the place skins over, and assumes the appearance of having been there from childhood?”
“In a month’s time Paul can be introduced to the Duke de Champdoce.”
“Are you speaking seriously?”
“Listen to me. The scar will not be quite natural then, but I intend to subject it to various other modes of treatment.”
The dressing was now over, and Paul’s shirt being readjusted, he was permitted to lie down again.
“I am quite willing to remain here forever,” said he, “as long as I am allowed to retain the services of the nurse that I have in the next room, and who, I am sure, is waiting with the greatest eagerness for your departure.”
Hortebise fumed, and cast a glance at Paul which seemed to say, “Be silent;” but the conceited young man paid no heed to it.
“How long has this charming nurse been with you?” asked Tantaine in an unnatural voice.
“Ever since I have been in bed,” returned Paul with the air of a gay young fellow. “I wrote a note that I was unable to go over to her, so she came to me. I sent my letter at nine o’clock, and at ten minutes past she was with me.”
The diplomatic doctor slipped behind Tantaine, and made violent gestures to endeavor to persuade Paul to keep silence, but all was in vain.
“M. Martin Rigal,” continued the vain young fool, “passes the greater part of his life in his private office. As soon as he gets up he goes there, and is not seen for the rest of the day. Flavia can therefore do entirely as she likes. As soon as she knows that her worthy father is deep in his ledgers, she puts on her hat and runs round to me, and no one could have a kinder and a prettier visitor than she is.”
The doctor was hard at work at his danger signals, but it was useless. Paul saw them, but did not comprehend their meaning; and Tantaine rubbed his glasses savagely.
“You are perhaps deceiving yourself a little,” said he at last.
“And why? You know that Flavia loves me, poor girl. I ought to marry her, and of course I shall; but still, if I do not do so--well, you know, I need say no more.”
“You wretched scoundrel!” exclaimed the usually placid Tantaine. His manner was so fierce and threatening that Paul shifted his position to one nearer the wall.
It was impossible for Tantaine to say another word, for Hortebise placed his hand upon his lips, and dragged him from the room.
