Other People's Money [195]
And at once I went to notify some policemen, and I returned to station myself near the caf . It was just closing up. My two fellows came out: I picked a quarrel with them; and now they are in the station-house, well recommended."
The commissary knit his brows.
"That's almost too much zeal," he murmured. "Well, what's done is done. Did you make any inquiries about the Saint Pavin and Jottras matter?"
"I had no time, it was too late. You forget, perhaps, sir, that it is nearly two o'clock."
Just as he got through, the secretary who had been sent to the Rue de la Pepiniere came in.
"Well?" inquired the commissary, not without evident anxiety.
"I waited for Mme. de Thaller over an hour," he said. "When she came home, I gave her the letter. She read it; and, in presence of a number of her servants, she handed me these two thousand francs."
At the sight of the bank notes, the commissary jumped to his feet.
"Now we have it!" he exclaimed. "Here is the proof that we wanted."
X
It was after four o'clock when M. de Tregars was at last permitted to return home. He had minutely, and at length, arranged every thing with the commissary: he had endeavored to anticipate every eventuality. His line of conduct was perfectly well marked out, and he carried with him the certainty that on the day which was about to dawn the strange game that he was playing must be finally won or lost. When he reached home,
"At last, here you are, sir!" exclaimed his faithful servant.
It was doubtless anxiety that had kept up the old man all night; but so absorbed was Marius's mind, that he scarcely noticed the fact.
"Did any one call in my absence?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. A gentleman called during the evening, M. Costeclar, who appeared very much vexed not to find you in. He stated that he came on a very important matter that you would know all about: and he requested me to ask you to wait for him to-morrow, that is to-day, by twelve o'clock."
Was M. Costeclar sent by M. de Thaller? Had the manager of the Mutual Credit changed his mind? and had he decided to accept the conditions which he had at first rejected? In that case, it was too late. It was no longer in the power of any human being to suspend the action of justice. Without giving any further thought to that visit,
"I am worn out with fatigue," said M. de Tregars, "and I am going to lie down. At eight o'clock precisely you will call me."
But it was in vain that he tried to find a short respite in sleep. For forty-eight hours his mind had been taxed beyond measure, his nerves had been wrought up to an almost intolerable degree of exaltation.
As soon as he closed his eyes, it was with a merciless precision that his imagination presented to him all the events which had taken place since that afternoon in the Place-Royale when he had ventured to declare his love to Mlle. Gilberte. Who could have told him then, that he would engage in that struggle, the issue of which must certainly be some abominable scandal in which his name would be mixed? Who could have told him, that gradually, and by the very force of circumstances, he would be led to overcome his repugnance, and to rival the ruses and the tortuous combinations of the wretches he was trying to reach?
But he was not of those who, once engaged, regret, hesitate, and draw hack. His conscience reproached him for nothing. It was for justice and right that he was battling; and Mlle. Gilberte was the prize that would reward him.
Eight o'clock struck; and his servant came in.
"Run for a cab," he said: 'I'll be ready in a moment."
He was ready, in fact, when the old servant returned; and, as he had in his pocket some of those arguments that lend wings to the poorest cab-horses, in less than ten minutes he had reached the Hotel des Folies.
"How is Mlle. Lucienne?" he inquired first of all of the worthy hostess.
The intervention of the commissary of police had made M. Fortin and his wife more supple than gloves, and more gentle than doves.
"The poor dear child is much
The commissary knit his brows.
"That's almost too much zeal," he murmured. "Well, what's done is done. Did you make any inquiries about the Saint Pavin and Jottras matter?"
"I had no time, it was too late. You forget, perhaps, sir, that it is nearly two o'clock."
Just as he got through, the secretary who had been sent to the Rue de la Pepiniere came in.
"Well?" inquired the commissary, not without evident anxiety.
"I waited for Mme. de Thaller over an hour," he said. "When she came home, I gave her the letter. She read it; and, in presence of a number of her servants, she handed me these two thousand francs."
At the sight of the bank notes, the commissary jumped to his feet.
"Now we have it!" he exclaimed. "Here is the proof that we wanted."
X
It was after four o'clock when M. de Tregars was at last permitted to return home. He had minutely, and at length, arranged every thing with the commissary: he had endeavored to anticipate every eventuality. His line of conduct was perfectly well marked out, and he carried with him the certainty that on the day which was about to dawn the strange game that he was playing must be finally won or lost. When he reached home,
"At last, here you are, sir!" exclaimed his faithful servant.
It was doubtless anxiety that had kept up the old man all night; but so absorbed was Marius's mind, that he scarcely noticed the fact.
"Did any one call in my absence?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. A gentleman called during the evening, M. Costeclar, who appeared very much vexed not to find you in. He stated that he came on a very important matter that you would know all about: and he requested me to ask you to wait for him to-morrow, that is to-day, by twelve o'clock."
Was M. Costeclar sent by M. de Thaller? Had the manager of the Mutual Credit changed his mind? and had he decided to accept the conditions which he had at first rejected? In that case, it was too late. It was no longer in the power of any human being to suspend the action of justice. Without giving any further thought to that visit,
"I am worn out with fatigue," said M. de Tregars, "and I am going to lie down. At eight o'clock precisely you will call me."
But it was in vain that he tried to find a short respite in sleep. For forty-eight hours his mind had been taxed beyond measure, his nerves had been wrought up to an almost intolerable degree of exaltation.
As soon as he closed his eyes, it was with a merciless precision that his imagination presented to him all the events which had taken place since that afternoon in the Place-Royale when he had ventured to declare his love to Mlle. Gilberte. Who could have told him then, that he would engage in that struggle, the issue of which must certainly be some abominable scandal in which his name would be mixed? Who could have told him, that gradually, and by the very force of circumstances, he would be led to overcome his repugnance, and to rival the ruses and the tortuous combinations of the wretches he was trying to reach?
But he was not of those who, once engaged, regret, hesitate, and draw hack. His conscience reproached him for nothing. It was for justice and right that he was battling; and Mlle. Gilberte was the prize that would reward him.
Eight o'clock struck; and his servant came in.
"Run for a cab," he said: 'I'll be ready in a moment."
He was ready, in fact, when the old servant returned; and, as he had in his pocket some of those arguments that lend wings to the poorest cab-horses, in less than ten minutes he had reached the Hotel des Folies.
"How is Mlle. Lucienne?" he inquired first of all of the worthy hostess.
The intervention of the commissary of police had made M. Fortin and his wife more supple than gloves, and more gentle than doves.
"The poor dear child is much