The Kill - Emile Zola [51]
The clerk was right to be wary and take precautions. When the dossier on his building came before the indemnity commission, it turned out that one of the members lived on the rue d’Astorg and knew the house. This man objected to the figure of 500,000 francs, which he said ought to be reduced by more than half. Aristide had been impudent enough to ask for 700,000. That day, M. Toutin-Laroche, who was normally extremely unpleasant to his colleagues, was in an even fouler mood than usual. He became incensed and took up the defense of property owners.
“We all own property, gentlemen. The emperor is out to do great things. Let’s not haggle over trifles. . . . This house ought to be worth 500,000 francs. The figure was set by one of our own people, an employee of city hall. . . . You’d think we were living in a den of thieves. Keep this up and we’ll end up being suspicious of one another.”
Baron Gouraud, sunk deep in his chair, glanced with surprise out of the corner of his eye at M. Toutin-Laroche fulminating on behalf of the owner of the rue de la Pépinière property. A suspicion crossed his mind. But since Toutin-Laroche’s vehement diatribe made it unnecessary for him to speak out, he simply nodded vigorously to signal his approval. Disgusted, the member from the rue d’Astorg dug in his heels and refused to give in to the two tyrants of the commission on a matter about which he was more competent than they. At that point, M. Toutin-Laroche, having noted the baron’s gesture of approval, grabbed the dossier and curtly said, “Very well, then. We’ll dispel your doubts. . . . If you’ll allow me, I’ll look into the matter, and Baron Gouraud will join me.”
“Yes, of course,” the baron added gravely. “Our decisions must be beyond reproach.”
The file had already vanished into M. Toutin-Laroche’s ample pockets. The commission was obliged to go along. On the way out, the two accomplices met on the quay and looked at each other without cracking a smile. They sensed that they were in this together, which only added to their poise. Men of commoner stamp would have insisted on explaining themselves, but these two continued to argue the case for property owners, as if the others could still hear them, and to deplore the distrustful attitude that was becoming so ubiquitous.
As they were about to part, the baron paused for a moment and smiled. “Oh, I almost forgot, but I’ll be leaving shortly for the country. Would you be kind enough, my dear colleague, to conduct this little inquiry without me? . . . And whatever you do, please don’t give away my secret: those fellows are always complaining that I take too many vacations.”
“Don’t trouble yourself about it,” Toutin-Laroche replied. “I shall go at once to the rue de la Pépinière.”
He quietly returned home, feeling a twinge of admiration for the baron, who had such clever ways of extricating himself from ticklish situations. He kept the file in his pocket and at the next meeting of the commission announced peremptorily on behalf of the baron and himself that given the asking price of 700,000 francs and the proposed offer of 500,000, it would be necessary to compromise by granting an indemnity of 600,000. Not a murmur of opposition was heard. The member from the rue d’Astorg, having thought better of his objection, no doubt, allowed good-naturedly that he had been mistaken. He had thought that it was the building next door that was being discussed.
That was how Aristide Saccard won his first victory. He quadrupled his investment and gained two accomplices. Only one thing worried him. When he went to destroy Mme Sidonie’s fraudulent books, they were nowhere to be found. He rushed over