The Orphan's Tale

by Anne Shaughnessy

  "His attackers probably came from there, though!" snapped Mercier. "One of the corpses certainly was one of your prize criminals!"

  "My prize - !" Picot began hotly.

  "Why don't I take both of you on a tour of the sewers tomorrow?" asked Malet with a thin smile. "We can retrace my route. I'd be happy to serve as your guide, and we can even - " He fell silent as d'Anglars' hand descended discreetly to his shoulder and gripped it. He flashed a sidelong glance at the Count's hand but said nothing further.

  "I believe the question of venue has been settled," said L'Eveque. "If there are any lingering questions, I am certain that they can be addressed by M. le Prefet upon his return." He scanned his notes and then smiled at the Chief Inspectors. "Are there any further questions, gentlemen?" He paused, waiting for an answer, and then said briskly, "No? Then we shall conclude this session of questioning. With any luck, there shall be no need for another."

  He turned to Soult and D'Aillard. "Accept my thanks, messeigneurs, for the evidence you have given us, and for your time and trouble in so doing,"

  M. D'Aillard inclined his head and said, "We are happy to have been of use. If I, personally, can offer any more assistance, I beg that you contact me."

  Soult added, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world!"

  Malet closed his eyes again.

  L'Eveque hid a smile and said, "Thank you. I shall take care to ensure that you receive fair copies of your testimony. And now, messeigneurs, permit me to wish you a pleasant evening." He rose and bowed as the Minister of Finance and the Minister of War rose and left the room.

  "I shall not keep you any longer," d'Anglars said smoothly to the Chief Inspectors. "It is late, M. Malet is weary and still, I fear, in some pain. No doubt you have pressing matters back at your respective headquarters. I shall make certain that you all receive copies of M. L'Eveque's report when it is completed."

  The Chief Inspectors took the hint. They all left except for Guerin, who remained where he was. His face was, if possible, paler than before.

  D'Anglars smiled down at Malet. "Are you feeling better now?" he asked. His voice was very gentle.

  Malet looked up at him. "I am fine, M. le Comte," he said through his teeth.

  "That's good," said d'Anglars. He released Malet's shoulder and went over to a chair that had just been vacated.

  Guerin pushed himself slowly to his feet. Deep lines bracketed his mouth, and his voice shook slightly when he spoke. "I had no idea that this would happen," he said to Malet.

  D'Anglars seemed surprised for a moment, but he said evenly, "Of course you did not. Had you known, you would have taken steps to prevent it."

  Guerin turned halfway toward the Count, but he did not take his eyes off Malet. "Just so," he said. He paused and cleared his throat. "I am deeply embarrassed by - by all of this. More so than you can ever know. It should never have happened, and the fact that it did - "

  He broke off, took a deep breath, and said, "Malet, I hope you will accept my apologies. We have never liked each other - indeed, we just had a regrettable quarrel - but I beg you to believe me: I have never actively wished you ill. I am very sorry." He turned and left the room.

  D'Anglars watched him leave. After a moment he looked at L'Eveque and nodded to the door.

  L'Eveque rose and went to shut the door. When he returned, d'Anglars asked, "How much do you have substantiating his part in those protection payments?"

  "I have very little," answered L'Eveque.

  Malet had been gazing thoughtfully at the door through which Guerin had left. "Those weren't his men," he said. "They weren't inept enough - "

  "I beg your pardon?" said L'Eveque. His smile had returned.

  Malet ignored the smile. "He had some men tailing me for a while," he said. "His hired trackers were very poor. I gave one of them the fright of his life. He didn't send the killers."

  D'Anglars nodded. "I shall accept that, then," he said. "We shall dispense with M. Guerin for the moment. Now it's your turn: I have judged it time to bell the cat. I am assigning you a bodyguard."

  Malet transferred his frown from the door to d'Anglars' face.

  "We have discussed this before in some depth," d'Anglars said. "You acted against my clear orders, in flagrant disregard of your own safety, in the hope of accomplishing something so insignificant when compared to the matter in hand that I find myself wondering if I have somehow managed to miss some key item in your chain of reasoning. I can't understand why you're alive at this moment. I can only thank God that you escaped the consequences of your own headstrong folly. Look at you: last night took its toll. you're worn out."

  "It'll pass," Malet said through his teeth. "I will be fine tomorrow."

  "You shall be finer still with a bodyguard," said d'Anglars with the steely glint of a smile.

  "I question the necessity," said Malet. "I escaped, after all."

  D'Anglars' face hardened. "Don't try my patience, Chief Inspector," he said, all smiles gone from his expression. "I have too great a respect for your formidable talents to allow myself to interfere with your way of performing the duties of your position, but when I do give a command, I expect it to be obeyed. So would you, too!

  "You deliberately disregarded my orders concerning the care you were to take for your own safety and set up that trap last night - which, let me remind you, you proceeded to forget in a way that would embarrass even the most callow junior constable! Can you possibly be unaware that you threw this entire prefecture into an unprecedented uproar?"

  Malet lowered his head, but his mouth was grim.

  D'Anglars looked narrowly at him and then continued. "I am astonished that I must phrase it this way to a man of your rank and distinction, Inspector, but as long as I hold the reins of the Police you will run as I command, and, by God, if you try to take the bit between your teeth it will be very much the worse for you! You would not hesitate to dismiss at once an intractable subordinate who has caused you only half the annoyance and worry that you have just caused me! I am being very kind to you, in fact. Do you understand me?"

  Malet raised his eyes to d'Anglars', read the Count's expression, and lowered his eyes again. "If you command it," he sighed, "then I will obey."

  "I do command it," d'Anglars said. "This shall not happen again.

  Malet inclined his head. "As you wish," he said.

  "Will you be returning to the Rose d'Or?" L'Eveque asked. "If you are, you can cast an eye over the horse I bought for Inspector de Saint‑Légère at the auction."

  Malet frowned at L'Eveque. "Auction?" he repeated.

  "You remember," said L'Eveque. "I attended the auction at the city stables yesterday. We tracked the buyer of that white thoroughbred: I gave you the report. I also bid on a horse for Charles de Saint‑Légère, and he was delivered this afternoon. If you go to the Rose d'Or, you'll be able to see him."

  "I should," Malet said. He looked down at his hands. He added, "I forgot to tell Mme. de Clichy not to expect me for supper last night..."

  "She understands," said L'Eveque. "She was worried about you, of course - she sent to inquire after you - but she wasn't angry."

  Malet nodded. "I'd best go back there," he said. He pushed himself to his feet - catching his breath with a hiss of pain - and checked his watch. Seven‑thirty. He had been attacked almost twenty‑four hours ago, and he was still tired. He was showing his age.

  "You will accept the loan of my carriage to your inn," said d'Anglars. "M. L'Eveque, would you be good enough to ask my staff to have it harnessed and brought round?"

  L'Eveque looked from Count d'Anglars to Malet, then bowed and went to the door.

  "And close the door behind you," d'Anglars directed.

  Malet lowered his head and sat down again.

  L

  PAYING THE PIPER II:

  JUSTICE AND MERCY

  "Now," said d'Anglars when the door had closed. "I have some questions for you to answer privately."

  Malet looked up
at him.

  "You have been headstrong in the past," d'Anglars said. "But I have never known you to be stupid regarding your safety or anyone else's. You would have been safe if you had followed that trap as you had planned it. Although it was against my express command, it was well thought out with checks and counter-checks. It entailed some risk, but the risk was minimized. What could have happened that would be so upsetting as to make you forget your precautions and step outside your frame of safety?"

  Malet closed his eyes. "I have already apologized, M. le Comte," he began.

  "I am not looking for an apology," d'Anglars said. "I am asking as a friend." When Malet was silent, he went to the desk nearby, took out a packet of papers and set them before Malet. "Was it because of these?"

  Malet paled and looked up at d'Anglars.

  "Sergeant Guillart tells me these were brought to you just before you left for Montmartre. Since the documents are on Police stationery, I had no hesitation in reading them. They put me in mind of something in your past; I pulled your dossier and reviewed it once again."

  He looked down at Malet, who was studying his interlaced fingers as though he had never seen them before. Malet raised his eyes to d'Anglars'.

  "Once I had done so," d'Anglars said gently, "things became clear to me. My interest had been piqued all those years ago when a man of very high caliber and experience described his reason for declining a promotion to Prefect of Police for an entire departement, and requesting a transfer, instead, to a slightly lower position, as 'heartbreak'."

  "Did I actually write that on an official document?" Malet asked.

  "You did, indeed. And the description was apt. You were forced to investigate a close friend, and hoping, I suspect, to clear his name, you ultimately had to arrest him, testify against him and, in the cruelest twist of all, convey him to prison." He watched Malet's expression and added quietly, "I have always had an excellent imagination, my dear Malet. And in your case, your anguish was not hard to understand."

  "I tried to warn him," Malet sighed. "But his conscience was clear, and I couldn't be more specific without betraying my own honor. The only wrong he did was to drop his past and try to step into a respectable life."

  "And under the law that could be considered a crime," d'Anglars said. "I read the case before you came. He had spent his time, since leaving the prison, in making something of himself and assisting others. But do those virtues outweigh breaking his parole?"

  Malet looked down at his hands, clasped before him. "I am not permitted to answer that, officially," he said. "And if I had tried--"

  "The law deals with justice," said d'Anglars. "Not with fairness and mercy. You must do your duty and leave those with latitude to make what decisions they can."

  "Yes," said Malet.

  "And I surmise that this was the man who overpowered you in the Luxembourg gardens and left you tied to that tree."

  "He could have killed me. I had my pistol with me and he found it."

  "What?"

  "He lingered because he thought I might have given myself a concussion - I fell rather heavily. He didn't want to leave me like that. When he was satisfied that I was all right, he went through my pockets - looking for a handkerchief to gag me - and found my pistol."

  D'Anglars raised his eyebrows.

  "I thought he was going to kill me. I suppose the blow to my head had addled me. I stopped fighting the knots and told him to get it over with."

  D'Anglars shook his head.

  "I thought I'd be damned if I begged for my life from anyone. He was indignant. How could I think such a thing of him? Hadn't I heard him say he meant me no harm? He put the pistol back, took out my handkerchief, and folded it into a gag."

  "He spared your life, then," d'Anglars said. "And you a formidable threat to his liberty, if not his life. Once you were free, being a man of honor and integrity, you had no choice but to search for him."

  "No choice." the words were almost inaudible. "And all this time I was trying to fight Dracquet."

  "And then, the afternoon of that trap, you received the papers and found yourself facing the heartbreak all over again. You thought you might be able to request clemency, but things might go wrong. Your confidence left you. Geraud Clerel said you left in a very subdued mood."

  Malet lowered his head again. "I thought it would all be starting again," he said, "and there was no escape. I had to leave that office and go somewhere to think."

  "I see," said d'Anglars. He looked at the papers and then set them aside. "I don't want a valued friend breaking his heart over something like this when it is not necessary. I have the personal authority to make a judgment regarding the magnitude of a crime, and to order or forbid further action. In this case, it is my judgment that this M. Fanchon is no more evil a man than you or me. Official action against him for anything in the past ends here: he can go forth with an easy heart. I take full responsibility for this decision, and I relieve you of any further involvement in this case, since your friendship with the subject presents a serious conflict of interest. As far as France is concerned, any possible case against M. Fanchon, or Vaux or Lambert, for that matter, is closed, and the evidence destroyed."

  He smiled at Malet's expression and put the papers in the fire. "You see?" he said. "You can set your heart at rest now. There will be no more tragedy on this score, at least."

  "But--"

  "It is within my power, Inspector," d'Anglars said. "And my mind is in no doubt. I am releasing a good man from a tragic past. Society won't suffer for this." He smiled and added, "You see, my very dear Malet, while solutions to great grief often can only be reached through labor and heartbreak and tears, sometimes they come once a wish is voiced or divined."

  Malet's voice shook slightly. "Then I thank you with all my heart, Monseigneur," he said.

  "Not at all," said d'Anglars. "I only regret that I could not have stepped in sooner."

  Malet pushed himself to his feet. "Thank you," he said again, speaking with difficulty. "You have no idea how-how very grateful I-"

  "Let us not discuss it any more," said d'Anglars. "You are wounded, still tired and, I suspect, still in pain that may have had some of the spiritual to it in additional to the physical. Well, that is over now and I am glad it is so. You can go in peace, and so can M. Fanchon. You may wish to write and tell him so, using official stationery." His voice became brisk again. "Now go to the carriage, which is waiting. I suggest you eat a good, hot meal, and go to bed as quickly as you can." He smiled and added, "Your bodyguard will report to you tomorrow. And be so good as to send M. l'Eveque in."

  ** ** **

  "How odd to see him so subdued," murmured d'Anglars after the door had closed. "Do you suppose it will last?" He paused and answered his own question. "No: it won't. He will be as maddening as ever tomorrow. I should have saved my breath."

  "I think his present mood is more the result of chagrin than of illness, Monseigneur," said L'Eveque with a smile. "Only consider the defeat he just suffered: he had hoped to tie this attempt in to his case against Dracquet, but he botched his own trap through his own carelessness, as he admitted to you, and ended with nothing to show for the past evening but an impressive collection of corpses, two wounds that are probably painful and a tongue‑lashing that is probably even more so."

  D'Anglars chuckled. "We all suffer embarrassment," he said. "It's seldom fatal. As long as he's safe I have no cause for complaint, and I am happy with the collection of corpses, two in particular."

  L'Eveque nodded. "René Benoit and Pierre le Noir," he said. "I was pleased with the contents of Benoit's pockets. Dracquet must be seething: if nothing else, he can be tied in to the attempted murder of a public official." He set his papers aside and said after a moment, "I owe a debt of gratitude to Mme. Descaux for taking him in and caring for him."

  "She is a delightful woman," said d'Anglars. He sat back in his chair and crossed his ankles before him. "I do wish you could have been there, my dear L'Evequ
e, when M. Soult and M. D'Aillard followed Madame into the kitchen, learned what had happened, and organized a search party on the spot. Poor Malet was ready to sink through the floor - he had come to a woman's house bloody, sweat‑stained and smelling of the sewers, only as a last resort. Do you know, it's the first time I can remember seeing him disheveled in all our acquaintance."

  L'Eveque nodded. "At least he can console himself that the assassination attempt itself was scotched, and a number of criminals arrested. I think we'll be able to put our hands on others within the next several weeks, so the evening's embarrassment wasn't in vain."

  LI

  INSPECTOR MALET LEARNS THAT

  IT IS JUST AS BLESSED TO RECEIVE AS TO GIVE

  IF SOMEWHAT MORE PERPLEXING AT TIMES

  There, Pippin. You can just see him to the east. Just coming up over the horizon: see the three stars in a row?

  What am I looking for, Papa?

  The row of stars. Look, Pippin: see the eye of Taurus? Look east‑northeast -

  J'n'comprends pas ce mot, Papa.

  Say that in English, Pippin. You'll never learn a language if you keep speaking your own. Now: look down from Taurus' eye and find the three bright stars in a row -

  Like a belt?

  Yes. Like a belt. That's Orion, the hunter. Look at him: it's the first time you have had a clear view of him. Isn't he magnificent?

  Paul Malet could hear the voices in his mind, the child's voice high and clear, the older man's voice low and rough. It had been mid October, and the sailor, Joseph Young, had called him to the ramparts of the prison to watch the stars. Orion was rising, he had said, and it was time Pippin made his acquaintance.

  Papa Joseph had had a reason for all this. France was emerging from the terrible paroxysm of the Terror, all tradition, all order swept away. The child beside him had known no stability in his short life, and was likely to see little more in the coming years. He had to learn to look for something to hold on to.