CHAPTER XXII.
DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.
The ex-cook appeared before Tantaine in all his appalling vulgarity asthe latter descended the stairs. The proprietor of the musical academywas a stout, red-faced man, with an insolent mouth and a cynical eye.He was gorgeously dressed, and wore a profusion of jewelry. He wasmuch startled at seeing Tantaine, whom he knew to be the redoubtableMascarin's right-hand man. "A thousand thunders!" muttered he. "If thesepeople have sent him here for me, I must take care what I am about," andwith a friendly smile he extended his hand to Tantaine.
"Glad to see you," said he. "Now, what can I do for you, for I hope youhave come to ask me to do something?"
"The veriest trifle," returned Tantaine.
"I am sorry that it is not something of importance, for I have thegreatest respect for M. Mascarin."
This conversation had taken place in the window, and was interruptedevery moment by the shouts and laughter of the children; but beneaththese sounds of merriment came an occasional bitter wail of lamentation.
"What is that?" inquired Perpignan, in a voice of thunder. "Who presumesto be unhappy in this establishment?"
"It is two of the lads that I have put on half rations," returnedPoluche. "I'll make them learn somehow or----"
A dark frown on the master's face arrested his further speech. "What doI hear?" roared Perpignan. "Do you dare, under my roof, to deprive thosepoor children of an ounce of food? It is scandalous, I may say, infamouson your part, M. Poluche."
"But, sir," faltered the professor, "have you not told me hundreds oftimes--"
"That you were an idiot, and would never be anything better. Go and tellMother Butor to give these poor children their dinner."
Repressing further manifestations of rage, Perpignan took Tantaine bythe arm and led him into a little side-room, which he dignified by thename of his office. There was nothing in it but three chairs, a commondeal table, and a few shelves containing ledgers. "You have come onbusiness, I presume," remarked Perpignan.
Tantaine nodded, and the two men seated themselves at the table, gazingkeenly into each other's eyes, as though to read the thoughts that movedin the busy brain.
"How did you find out my little establishment down here?" askedPerpignan.
"By a mere chance," remarked Tantaine carelessly. "I go about agood deal, and hear many things. For instance, you have taken everyprecaution here, and though you are really the proprietor, yet thehusband of your cook and housekeeper, Butor, is supposed to be the ownerof the house--at least it stands in his name. Now, if anything untowardhappened, you would vanish, and only Butor would remain a prey for thepolice."
Tantaine paused for a moment, and then slowly added, "Such tacticsusually succeed unless a man has some secret enemy, who wouldtake advantage of his knowledge, to do him an injury by obtainingirrefragable proofs of his complicity."
The ex-cook easily perceived the threat that was hidden under thesewords. "They know something," muttered he, "and I must find out what itis."
"If a man has a clear conscience," said he aloud, "he is all right. Ihave nothing to conceal, and therefore nothing to fear. You have nowseen my establishment; what do you think of it?"
"It seems to me a very well-conducted one."
"It may have occurred to you that a factory at Roubaix might have been abetter investment, but I had not the capital to begin with."
Tantaine nodded. "It is not half a bad trade," said he.
"I agree with you. In the Rue St. Marguerite you will find more thanone similar establishment; but I never cared for the situation of theFaubourg St. Antoine. My little angels find this spot more salubrious."
"Yes, yes," answered Tantaine amicably, "and if they howl too much whenthey are corrected, there are not too many neighbors to hear them."
Perpignan thought it best to take no notice of this observation. "Thepapers are always pitching into us," continued he. "They had much betterstick to politics. The fact is, that the profits of our business aretremendously exaggerated."
"Well, you manage to make a living out of it?"
"I don't lose, I confess, but I have six little cherubs in hospital,besides the one in the kitchen, and these, of course, are a dead loss tome."
"That is a sad thing for you," answered Tantaine gravely.
Perpignan began to be amazed at his visitor's coolness.
"Damn it all," said he, "if you and Mascarin think the business sucha profitable one, why don't you go in for it. You may perhaps think iteasy to procure the kids; just try it. You have to go to Italy for mostof them, then you have to smuggle them across the frontier like bales ofcontraband goods."
Perpignan paused to take a breath, and Tantaine asked,--
"What sum do you make each of the lads bring in daily?"
"That depends," answered Perpignan hesitatingly.
"Well, you can give an average?"
"Say three francs then."
"Three francs!" repeated Tantaine with a genial smile, "and you haveforty little cherubs, so that makes one hundred and twenty francs perday."
"Absurd!" retorted Perpignan; "do you think each of the lads bring insuch a sum as that?"
"Ah! you know the way to make them do so."
"I don't understand you," answered Perpignan, in whose voice a shade ofanxiety now began to appear.
"No offence, no offence," answered Tantaine; "but the fact is, thenewspapers are doing you a great deal of harm, by retailing some of themeans adopted by your colleague to make the boys do a good day's work.Do you recollect the sentence on that master who tied one of his ladsdown on a bed, and left him without food for two days at a stretch?"
"I don't care about such matters; no one can bring a charge of crueltyagainst me," retorted Perpignan angrily.
"A man with the kindest heart in the world may be the victim ofcircumstances."
Perpignan felt that the decisive moment was at hand.
"What do you mean?" asked he.
"Well, suppose, to punish one of your refractory lads, you were to shuthim in the cellar. A storm comes on during the night, the gutter getschoked up, the cellar fills with water, and next morning you find thelittle cherub drowned like a rat in his hole?"
Perpignan's face was livid.
"Well, and what then?" asked he.
"Ah! now the awkward part of the matter comes. You would not care tosend for the police, that might excite suspicion; the easiest thing isto dig a hole and shove the body into it."
Perpignan got up and placed his back against the door.
"You know too much, M. Tantaine,--a great deal too much," said he.
Perpignan's manner was most threatening; but Tantaine still smiledpleasantly, like a child who had just committed some simply mischievousact, the results of which it cannot foresee.
"The sentence isn't heavy," he continued; "five years' penal servitude,if evidence of previous good conduct could be put in; but if formerantecedents were disclosed, such as a journey to Nancy----"
This was the last straw, and Perpignan broke out,--
"What do you mean?" said he; "and what do you want me to do?"
"Only a trifling service, as I told you before. My dear sir, do not putyourself in a rage," he added, as Perpignan seemed disposed to speakagain. "Was it not you who first began to talk of your, 'em--well, letus say business?"
"Then you wanted to make yourself agreeable by talking all this rot tome. Well, shall I tell you in my turn what I think?"
"By all means, if it will not be giving you too much trouble."
"Then I tell you that you have come here on an errand which no manshould venture to do alone. You are not of the age and build forbusiness like this. It is a misfortune--a fatal one perhaps--to putyourself in my power, in such a house as this."
"But, my dear sir, what is likely to happen to me?"
The features of the ex-cook were convulsed with fury; he was in that madstate of rage in which a man has no control over himself. Mechanicallyhis hand slippe
d into his pocket; but before he could draw it out again,Tantaine who had not lost one of his movements, sprang upon him andgrasped him so tightly by the throat that he was powerless to adopt anyoffensive measures, in spite of his great strength and robust build.The struggle was not a long one; the old man hurled his adversary to theground, and placed his foot on his chest, and held him down, his wholeface and figure seemingly transfigured with the glories of strength andsuccess.
"And so you wished to stab me,--to murder a poor and inoffensive oldman. Do you think that I was fool enough to enter your cut-throat doorwithout taking proper precautions?" And as he spoke he drew a revolverfrom his bosom. "Throw away your knife," added he sternly.
In obedience to this mandate, Perpignan, who was now entirelydemoralized, threw the sharp-pointed weapon which he had contrived toopen in his pocket into a corner of the room.
"Good," said Tantaine. "You are growing more reasonable now. Of course Icame alone, but do you think that plenty of people did not know where Iwas going to? Had I not returned to-night, do you think that my master,M. Mascarin, would have been satisfied? and how long do you think itwould have been before he and the police would have been here. If you donot do all that I wish for the rest of your life, you will be the mostungrateful fellow in the world."
Perpignan was deeply mortified; he had been worsted in single combat,and now he was being found out, and these things had never happened tohim before.
"Well, I suppose that I must give in," answered he sulkily.
"Quite so; it is a pity that you did not think of that before."
"You vexed me and made me angry."
"Just so; well, now, get up, take that chair, and let us talkreasonably."
Perpignan obeyed without a word.
"Now," said Tantaine, "I came here with a really magnificent proposal.But I adopted the course I pursued because I wished to prove to youthat _you_ belonged more absolutely to Mascarin than did your wretchedforeign slaves to you. You are absolutely at his mercy, and he can crushyou to powder whenever he likes."
"Your Mascarin is Satan himself," muttered the discomfited man. "Who canresist him?"
"Come, as you think thus, we can talk sensibly at last."
"Well," answered Perpignan ruefully, as he adjusted his disorderednecktie, "say what you like, I have no answer to make."
"Let us begin at the commencement," said Tantaine. "For some days pastyour people have been following a certain Caroline Schimmel. A fellow ofsixteen called Ambrose, a lad with a harp, was told off for this duty.He is not to be trusted. Only a night or two ago one of my men made himdrunk; and fearing lest his absence might create surprise, drove himhere in a cab, and left him at the corner."
The ex-cook uttered an oath.
"Then you too are watching Caroline," said he. "I knew well that therewas some one else in the field, but that was no matter of mine."
"Well, tell me why you are watching her?"
"How can you ask me? You know that my motto is silence and discretion,and that this is a secret intrusted to my honor."
Tantaine shrugged his shoulders.
"Why do you talk like that, when you know very well that you arefollowing Ambrose on your own account, hoping by that means to penetratea secret, only a small portion of which has been intrusted to you?"remarked he.
"Are you certain of this statement?" asked the man, with a cunning look.
"So sure that I can tell you that the matter was placed in your hands bya certain M. Catenac."
The expression in Perpignan's face changed from astonishment to fear.
"Why, this Mascarin knows everything," muttered he.
"No," replied Tantaine, "my master does not know everything, and theproof of this is, that I have come to ask you what occurred betweenCatenac's client and yourself, and this is the service that we expectfrom you."
"Well, if I must, I must. About three weeks ago, one morning, I had justfinished with half a dozen clients at my office in the Rue de Fame, whenmy servant brought me Catenac's card. After some talk, he asked me if Icould find out a person that he had utterly lost sight of. Of course Isaid, yes, I could. Upon this he asked me to make an appointment for tenthe next morning, when some one would call on me regarding the affair.At the appointed time a shabbily dressed man was shown in. I looked athim up and down, and saw that, in spite of his greasy hat and threadbarecoat, his linen was of the finest kind, and that his shoes were the workof one of our best bootmakers. 'Aha,' said I to myself, 'you thought totake me in, did you!' I handed him a chair, and he at once proceededto let me into his reasons for coming. 'Sir,' said he, 'my life has notbeen a very happy one, and once I was compelled to take to the FoundlingAsylum a child that I loved very dearly, the son of a woman whom Iadored. She is dead now, and I am old and solitary. I have a smallproperty, and would give half of it to recover the child. Tell me,is there any chance of my doing so?' You must imagine, my dear sir,"continued he, after a slight pause, "that I was much interested in thisstory, for I said to myself, that the man's fortune must be a very smallone if half of it would not amply repay me for making a journey to theFoundling Hospital. So I agreed to undertake the business, but the oldfellow was too sharp for me. 'Stop a bit, and let me finish,' said he,'and you will see that your task will not be so easy as you seem tothink it.' I, of course, bragged of my enormous sources of information,and the probability of ultimate success."
"Keep to your story," said Tantaine impatiently, "I know all aboutthat."
"I will leave you, then, to imagine all I said to the old man, wholistened to me with great satisfaction. 'I only hope that you are asskilful as M. Catenac says you are, and have as much influence and poweras you assert, for no man has a finer chance than you now have. I havetried all means up to this, but I have failed.' I went first to thehospital where the child had been placed, and they showed me theregister containing the date of his admission, but no one knew what hadbecome of him, for at twelve years of age he had left the place, and noone had heard of him since; and in spite of every effort, I have beenunable to discover whether he is alive or dead."
"A pretty riddle to guess," remarked Tantaine.
"An enigma that it is impossible to solve," returned Perpignan. "How isone to get hold of a boy who vanished ten years ago, and who must now bea grown-up man?"
"We could do it."
Tantaine's tone was so decided, that the other man looked sharply athim with a vague suspicion rising in his breast that the affair had alsobeen placed in Mascarin's hands; and if so, whether he had worked itwith more success than himself.
"You might, for all I know; but I felt that the clue was absolutelywanting," answered Perpignan sulkily. "I put on a bold face, however,and asked for the boy's description. The man told me that he couldprovide me with an accurate one, for that many people, notably the ladysuperior, remembered the lad. He could also give other details whichmight be useful."
"And these you obtained, of course?"
"Not yet."
"Are you joking?"
"Not a bit. I do not know whether the old man was sharp enough to readin the expression of my features that I had not the smallest hope ofsuccess; be that as it may, he could give me no further information thatday, declaring that he came in only to consult me, and that everythingmust be done in a most confidential way. I hastened to assure him thatmy office was a perfect tomb of secrets. He told me that he took thatfor granted. Then telling me that he wished me to draw up a _precis_ ofmy intended course, he took out a note for five hundred francs, whichhe handed to me for my time. I refused to take it, though it cost mea struggle to do so, for I thought that I should make more out of himlater on. But he insisted on my taking it, saying that he would see meagain soon, and that Catenac would communicate with me. He left me lessinterested in the search than in who this old man could possibly be."
Tantaine felt that Perpignan was telling the truth.
"Did you not try and find out that?" asked he.
Perpignan hesitated; but feel
ing convinced that there was no loopholefor escape, he answered, "Hardly had my visitor left than, slipping ona cap and a workman's blouse, I followed him in his track, and saw himenter one of the finest houses in the Rue de Varennes."
"He lived there then?"
"He did, and he was a very well-known man--the Duke de Champdoce."
"Yes, I know all that," answered Tantaine, placidly, "but I can't, forthe life of me, imagine the connection between the Duke and CarolineSchimmel."
Perpignan raised his eyebrows.
"Why did you put a man to watch her?" asked Tantaine.
"My reasons for doing so were most simple. I made every inquiryregarding the Duke; learned that he was very wealthy, and lived a verysteady life. He is married, and loves his wife dearly. They had one son,whom they lost a year ago, and have never recovered from the shock. Iimagine that this Duke, having lost his legitimate heir, wished me tofind his other son. Do you not think that I am right?"
"There is something in it; but, after all, you have not explained yourreasons for watching Caroline."
Perpignan was no match for Mascarin's right-hand man, but he was keenenough to discern that Tantaine was putting a string of questions to himwhich had been prepared in advance. This he, however, was powerless toresent.
"As you may believe," said he, "I made every inquiry into the past aswell as the present of the Duke, and also tried to discover who was themother of the child, but in this I entirely failed."
"What! not with all your means?" cried Tantaine, with a sneer.
"Laugh at me as much as you like; but out of the thirty servants in theChampdoce establishment, not one has been there more than ten years.Nor could I anywhere lay my hands upon one who had been in the Duke'sservice in his youth. Once, however, as I was in the wineshop in the Ruede Varennes, I quite by chance heard allusion made to a woman who hadbeen in the service of the Duke twenty-five years ago, and who wasnow in receipt of a small allowance from him. This woman was CarolineSchimmel. I easily found out her address, and set a watch on her."
"And of what use will she be to you?"
"Very little, I fear. And yet the allowance looks as if she had at onetime done something out of the way for her employers. Can it be that shehas any knowledge of the birth of this natural child?"
"I don't think much of your idea," returned Tantaine carelessly.
"Since then," continued Perpignan, "the Duke has never put in anappearance in my office."
"But how about Catenac?"
"I have seen him three times."
"Has he told you nothing more? Do you not even know in which hospitalthe child was placed?"
"No; and on my last visit I plainly told him that I was getting sick ofall this mystery; and he said that he himself was tired, and was sorrythat he had ever meddled in the affair."
Tantaine was not surprised at hearing this, and accounted for Catenac'schange of front by the threats of Mascarin.
"Well, what do you draw from this?" asked he.
"That Catenac has no more information than I have. The Duke most likelyproposes to drop the affair; but, were I in his place, I should beafraid to find the boy, however much I might at one time have desiredto do so. He may be in prison--the most likely thing for a lad who, attwelve years of age, ran away from a place where he was well treated. Ihave, however, planned a mode of operation, for, with patience, money,and skill, much might be done."
"I agree with you."
"Then let me tell you. I have drawn an imaginary circle round Paris. Isaid to myself, 'I will visit every house and inn in the villages roundwithin this radius; I will enter every isolated dwelling, and will sayto the inhabitants, "Do any of you remember at any time sheltering andfeeding a child, dressed in such and such a manner?"' giving at thesame time a description of him. I am sure that I should find some onewho would answer in the affirmative. Then I should gain a clue which Iwould follow up to the end."
This plan appeared so ingenious to Tantaine, that he involuntarilyexclaimed,--
"Good! excellent!"
Perpignan hardly knew whether Tantaine was praising or blaming him. Hismanner might have meant either.
"You are very fast," returned he dismally. "Perhaps presently you willbe good enough to allow that I am not an absolute fool. Do you reallythink that I am an idiot? At any rate, I sometimes hit upon a judiciouscombination. For example, with regard to this boy, I have a notionwhich, if properly worked might lead to something."
"Might I ask what it is?"
"I speak confidentially. If it is impossible to lay our hands upon thereal boy, why should we not substitute another?"
At this suggestion, Tantaine started violently.
"It would be most dangerous, most hazardous," gasped he.
"You are afraid, then?" said Perpignan, delighted at the effect hisproposal had made.
"It seems it is you who were afraid," retorted Tantaine.
"You do not know me when you say that," said Perpignan.
"If you were not afraid," asked Tantaine, in his most oily voice, "whydid you not carry out your plan?"
"Because there was one obstacle that could not be got over."
"Well, I can't see it myself," returned Tantaine, desirous of hearingevery detail.
"Ah, there is one thing that I omitted in my narrative. The Dukeinformed me that he could prove the identity of the boy by certainscars."
"Scars? And of what kind, pray?"
"Now you are asking me too much. I do not know."
On receiving this reply, Tantaine rose hastily from his chair, and thusconcealed his agitation from his companion.
"I have a hundred apologies to make for taking up so much of yourvaluable time. My master has got it into his head that you were afterthe same game as ourselves. He was mistaken, and now we leave the fieldclear to you."
Before Perpignan could make any reply, the old man had passed throughthe doorway. On the threshold he paused, and said,--
"Were I in your place, I would stick to my first plan. You will neverfind the boy, but you will get several thousand francs out of the Duke,which I am sure will come in handy."
"There are scars now, then," muttered Tantaine, as he moved away fromthe house, "and that Master Catenac never said a word about them!"