Baron Trigault's Vengeance [132]
heir. A proof of devotion might induce him to keep you with him. What you told me a little while ago is of great importance to him; see if you can repeat it now for his benefit."
In his anxiety to secure a good situation, M. Casimir had ventured to apply to the Marquis de Valorsay; he had talked a good deal, and the marquis had conceived the plan of making him an unsuspecting accomplice. "I never deny my words," replied the valet, "and since monsieur is the heir to the property, I won't hesitate to tell him that immense sums have been stolen from the late count's estate."
M. Wilkie bounded from his chair. "Immense sums!" he exclaimed. "Is it possible!"
"Monsieur shall judge. On the morning preceding his death, the count had more than two millions in bank-notes and bonds stowed away in his escritoire, but when the justice of the peace came to take the inventory, the money could not be found. We servants were terribly alarmed, for we feared that suspicion would fall upon us."
Ah! if Wilkie had only been alone he would have given vent to his true feelings. But here, under the eyes of the marquis and M. de Coralth, he felt that he must maintain an air of stoical indifference. He ALMOST succeeded in doing so, and in a tolerably firm voice he remarked: "This is not very pleasant news. Two millions! that's a good haul. Tell me, my friend, have you any clue to the thief?"
The valet's troubled glance betrayed an uneasy conscience, but he had gone too far to draw back. "I shouldn't like to accuse an innocent person," he replied, "but there was some one who constantly had access to that escritoire."
"And who was that?"
"Mademoiselle Marguerite."
"I don't know the lady."
"She's a young girl who is--at least people say--the count's illegitimate daughter. Her word was law in the house."
"What has become of her?"
"She has gone to live with General de Fondege, one of the count's friends. She wouldn't take her jewels and diamonds away with her, which seemed very strange, for they are worth more than a hundred thousand francs. Even Bourigeau said to me: 'That's unnatural, M. Casimir.' Borigeau is the concierge of the house, a very worthy man. Monsieur will not find his equal."
Unfortunately, this tribute to the merits of the valet's friend was interrupted by the arrival of a footman, who, after tapping respectfully at the door, entered the room and exclaimed: "The doctor is here, and desires to speak with Monsieur le Marquis."
"Very well," replied M. de Valorsay, "ask him to wait. When I ring, you can usher him in." Then addressing M. Casimir, he added:
"You may retire for the present, but don't leave the house. M. Wilkie will acquaint you with his intentions by and by."
The valet thereupon backed out of the room, bowing profoundly.
"There is a story for you!" exclaimed M. Wilkie as soon as the door was closed. "A robbery of two millions!"
The marquis shook his head, and remarked, gravely: "That's a mere nothing. I suspect something far more terrible."
"What, pray? Upon my word! you frighten me."
"Wait! I may be mistaken. Even the doctor may lie deceived. But you shall judge for yourself." As he spoke, he pulled the bell- rope, and an instant after, the servant announced: "Dr. Jodon."
It was, indeed, the same physician who had annoyed Mademoiselle Marguerite by his persistent curiosity and impertinent questions, at the Count de Chalusse's bedside; the same crafty and ambitious man, constantly tormented by covetousness, and ready to do anything to gratify it--the man of the period, in short, who sacrificed everything to the display by which he hoped to deceive other people, and who was almost starving in the midst of his mock splendor.
M. Casimir was an innocent accomplice, but the doctor knew what he was doing. Interviewed on behalf of the Marquis de Valorsay by Madame Leon, he had fathomed the whole mystery at once. These two crafty natures had read and understood each other. No definite words had passed between them--they were both too shrewd for that;
In his anxiety to secure a good situation, M. Casimir had ventured to apply to the Marquis de Valorsay; he had talked a good deal, and the marquis had conceived the plan of making him an unsuspecting accomplice. "I never deny my words," replied the valet, "and since monsieur is the heir to the property, I won't hesitate to tell him that immense sums have been stolen from the late count's estate."
M. Wilkie bounded from his chair. "Immense sums!" he exclaimed. "Is it possible!"
"Monsieur shall judge. On the morning preceding his death, the count had more than two millions in bank-notes and bonds stowed away in his escritoire, but when the justice of the peace came to take the inventory, the money could not be found. We servants were terribly alarmed, for we feared that suspicion would fall upon us."
Ah! if Wilkie had only been alone he would have given vent to his true feelings. But here, under the eyes of the marquis and M. de Coralth, he felt that he must maintain an air of stoical indifference. He ALMOST succeeded in doing so, and in a tolerably firm voice he remarked: "This is not very pleasant news. Two millions! that's a good haul. Tell me, my friend, have you any clue to the thief?"
The valet's troubled glance betrayed an uneasy conscience, but he had gone too far to draw back. "I shouldn't like to accuse an innocent person," he replied, "but there was some one who constantly had access to that escritoire."
"And who was that?"
"Mademoiselle Marguerite."
"I don't know the lady."
"She's a young girl who is--at least people say--the count's illegitimate daughter. Her word was law in the house."
"What has become of her?"
"She has gone to live with General de Fondege, one of the count's friends. She wouldn't take her jewels and diamonds away with her, which seemed very strange, for they are worth more than a hundred thousand francs. Even Bourigeau said to me: 'That's unnatural, M. Casimir.' Borigeau is the concierge of the house, a very worthy man. Monsieur will not find his equal."
Unfortunately, this tribute to the merits of the valet's friend was interrupted by the arrival of a footman, who, after tapping respectfully at the door, entered the room and exclaimed: "The doctor is here, and desires to speak with Monsieur le Marquis."
"Very well," replied M. de Valorsay, "ask him to wait. When I ring, you can usher him in." Then addressing M. Casimir, he added:
"You may retire for the present, but don't leave the house. M. Wilkie will acquaint you with his intentions by and by."
The valet thereupon backed out of the room, bowing profoundly.
"There is a story for you!" exclaimed M. Wilkie as soon as the door was closed. "A robbery of two millions!"
The marquis shook his head, and remarked, gravely: "That's a mere nothing. I suspect something far more terrible."
"What, pray? Upon my word! you frighten me."
"Wait! I may be mistaken. Even the doctor may lie deceived. But you shall judge for yourself." As he spoke, he pulled the bell- rope, and an instant after, the servant announced: "Dr. Jodon."
It was, indeed, the same physician who had annoyed Mademoiselle Marguerite by his persistent curiosity and impertinent questions, at the Count de Chalusse's bedside; the same crafty and ambitious man, constantly tormented by covetousness, and ready to do anything to gratify it--the man of the period, in short, who sacrificed everything to the display by which he hoped to deceive other people, and who was almost starving in the midst of his mock splendor.
M. Casimir was an innocent accomplice, but the doctor knew what he was doing. Interviewed on behalf of the Marquis de Valorsay by Madame Leon, he had fathomed the whole mystery at once. These two crafty natures had read and understood each other. No definite words had passed between them--they were both too shrewd for that;