XV.
M. Fortunat left the restaurant, almost on the run, for he feared thathe might be pursued and overtaken by M. Casimir. But after he had gonea couple of hundred paces, he paused, not so much to take breath, as tocollect his scattered wits; and though the weather was cold, he seatedhimself on a bench to reflect.
Never in all his changeful life had he known such intense anxiety andtorturing suspense as he had just experienced in that little room in therestaurant. He had longed for positive information and he had obtainedit; but it had upset all his plans and annihilated all his hopes.Imagining that the count's heirs had been lost sight of, he haddetermined to find them and make a bargain with them, before theylearned that they were worth their millions. But on the contrary, theseheirs were close at hand, watching M. de Chalusse, and knowing theirrights so well that they were ready to fight for them. "For it wascertainly the count's sister who wrote the letter which I have in mypocket," he murmured. "Not wishing to receive him at her own home, sheprudently appointed a meeting at a hotel. But what about this name ofHuntley? Is it really hers, or is it only assumed for the occasion?Is it the name of the man who enticed her from home, or is it the namegiven to the son from whom she has separated herself?"
But after all what was the use of all these conjectures? There wasbut one certain and positive thing, and this was that the money he hadcounted upon had escaped him; and he experienced as acute a pang asif he had lost forty thousand francs a second time. Perhaps, at thatmoment, he was sorry that he had severed his connection with themarquis. Still, he was not the man to despond, however desperate hisplight might appear, without an attempt to better his situation. Heknew how many surprising and sudden changes in fortune have been broughtabout by some apparently trivial action. "I must discover this sister,"he said to himself--"I must ascertain her position and her plans.If she has no one to advise her, I will offer my services; and whoknows----"
A cab was passing; M. Fortunat hailed it, and ordered the Jehu to drivehim to the Rue du Helder, No. 43, Hotel de Homburg.
Was it by chance or premeditation that this establishment had receivedthe name of one of the gambling dens of Europe? Perhaps the followinginformation may serve to answer the question. The Hotel de Homburg wasone of those flash hostelries frequented by adventurers of distinction,who are attracted to Paris by the millions that are annually squanderedthere. Spurious counts and questionable Russian princesses were sureto find a cordial welcome there with princely luxury, moderate prices,and--but very little confidence. Each person was called by the titlewhich it pleased him to give on his arrival--Excellency or Prince,according to his fancy. He could also find numerous servants carefullydrilled to play the part of old family retainers, and carriages uponwhich the most elaborate coat-of-arms could be painted at an hour'snotice. Nor was there any difficulty whatever in immediately procuringall the accessories of a life of grandeur--all that is needful to dazzlethe unsuspecting, to throw dust in people's eyes, and to dupe one'schance acquaintances. All these things were provided without delay, bythe month, by the day or by the hour, just as the applicant pleased.But there was no such thing as credit there. Bills were presented everyevening, to those lodgers who did not pay in advance: and he who couldnot, or would not, settle the score, even if he were Excellency orPrince, was requested to depart at once, and his trunks were held assecurity.
When M. Fortunat entered the office of the hotel, a woman, with a craftylooking face, was holding a conference with an elderly gentleman, whohad a black velvet skullcap on his head, and a magnifying glass in hishand. They applied their eyes to the glass in turn, and were engaged inexamining some very handsome diamonds, which had no doubt been offeredin lieu of money by some noble but impecunious foreigner. On hearing M.Fortunat enter, the woman looked up.
"What do you desire, monsieur?" she inquired, politely.
"I wish to see Madame Lucy Huntley."
The woman did not reply at first, but raised her eyes to the ceiling, asif she were reading there the list of all the foreigners of distinctionwho honored the Hotel de Homburg by their presence at that moment. "LucyHuntley!" she repeated. "I don't recollect that name! I don't thinkthere's such a person in the house--Lucy Huntley! What kind of a personis she?"
For many reasons M. Fortunat could not answer. First of all, he didnot know. But he was not in the least disconcerted, and he avoided thequestion without the slightest embarrassment, at the same time trying toquicken the woman's faulty memory. "The person I wished to see was hereon Friday, between three and six in the afternoon; and she was waitingfor a visitor with an anxiety which could not possibly have escaped yournotice."
This detail quickened the memory of the man with the magnifyingglass--none other than the woman's husband and landlord of the hotel."Ah! the gentleman is speaking of the lady of No. 2--you remember--thesame who insisted upon having the large private room."
"To be sure," replied the wife; "where could my wits have been!" Andturning to M. Fortunat: "Excuse my forgetfulness," she added. "The ladyis no longer in the house; she only remained here for a few hours."
This reply did not surprise M. Fortunat--he had expected it; and yethe assumed an air of the utmost consternation. "Only a few hours!" herepeated, like a despairing echo.
"Yes, monsieur. She arrived here about eleven o'clock in the morning,with only a large valise by way of luggage, and she left that sameevening at eight o'clock."
"Alas! and where was she going?"
"She didn't tell me."
You might have sworn that M. Fortunat was about to burst into tears."Poor Lucy!" said he, in a tragical tone; "it was for me, madame, thatshe was waiting. But it was only this morning that I received her letterappointing a meeting here. She must have been in despair. The post can'tbe depended on!"
The husband and wife simultaneously shrugged their shoulders, and theexpression of their faces unmistakably implied: "What can we do aboutit? It is no business of ours. Don't trouble us."
But M. Fortunat was not the man to be dismayed by such a trifle.
"She was taken to the railway station, no doubt," he insisted.
"Really, I know nothing about it."
"You told me just now that she had a large valise, so she could not haveleft your hotel on foot. She must have asked for a vehicle. Who wassent to fetch it? One of your boys? If I could find the driver I should,perhaps, be able to obtain some valuable information from him."
The husband and wife exchanged a whole volume of suspicions in a singleglance. M. Isidore Fortunat's appearance was incontestably respectable,but they were well aware that those strange men styled detectives areperfectly conversant with the art of dressing to perfection. So thehotelkeeper quickly decided on his course. "Your idea is an excellentone," he said to M. Fortunat. "This lady must certainly have takena vehicle on leaving; and what is more, it must have been a vehiclebelonging to the hotel. If you will follow me, we will make someinquiries on the subject."
And rising with a willingness that augured well for their success,he led the agent into the courtyard, where five or six vehicles werestationed, while the drivers lounged on a bench, chatting and smokingtheir pipes "Which of you was employed by a lady yesterday evening atabout eight o'clock?"
"What sort of a person was she?"
"She was a handsome woman, between thirty and forty years' old, veryfair, rather stout, and dressed in black. She had a large Russia-leathertravelling-bag."
"I took her," answered one of the drivers promptly. M. Fortunat advancedtoward the man with open arms, and with such eagerness that it mighthave been supposed he meant to embrace him. "Ah, my worthy fellow!" heexclaimed, "you can save my life!"
The driver looked exceedingly pleased. He was thinking that thisgentleman would certainly requite his salvation by a magnificentgratuity. "What do you want of me?" he asked.
"Tell me where you drove this lady?"
"I took her to the Rue de Berry."
"To what number?"
"Ah, I can't tell. I've
forgotten it."
But M. Fortunat no longer felt any anxiety. "Very good," said he."You've forgotten it--that's not at all strange. But you would know thehouse again, wouldn't you?"
"Undoubtedly I should."
"Will you take me there?"
"Certainly, sir. This is my vehicle."
The hunter of missing heirs at once climbed inside; but it was not untilthe carriage had left the courtyard that the landlord returned to hisoffice. "That man must be a detective," he remarked to his wife.
"So I fancy."
"It's strange we're not acquainted with him. He must be a new member ofthe force."
But M. Fortunat was quite indifferent as to what impression he had leftbehind him at the Hotel de Homburg, for he never expected to set footthere again. The one essential thing was that he had obtained theinformation he wished for, and even a description of the lady, and hefelt that he was now really on the track. The vehicle soon reached theRue de Berry, and drew up in front of a charming little private house."Here we are, monsieur," said the driver, bowing at the door.
M. Fortunat sprang nimbly on to the pavement, and handed five francsto the coachman, who went off growling and swearing, for he thought thereward a contemptibly small one, coming as it did from a man whose lifehad been saved, according to his own confession. However, the person theJehu anathematized certainly did not hear him. Standing motionless wherehe had alighted, M. Fortunat scrutinized the house in front of him withclose attention. "So she lives here," he muttered. "This is the place;but I can't present myself without knowing her name. I must make someinquiries."
There was a wine-shop some fifty paces distant, and thither M. Fortunathastened, and ordered a glass of currant syrup. As he slowly sippedthe beverage, he pointed to the house in question, with an air ofwell-assumed indifference, and asked: "Whom does that pretty dwellingbelong to?"
"To Madame Lia d'Argeles," answered the landlady.
M. Fortunat started. He well remembered that this was the name theMarquis de Valorsay had mentioned when speaking of the vile conspiracyhe had planned. It was at this woman's house that the man whomMademoiselle Marguerite loved had been disgraced! Still he managed tomaster his surprise, and in a light, frank tone he resumed: "What apretty name! And what does this lady do?"
"What does she do? Why, she amuses herself."
M. Fortunat seemed astonished. "Dash it!" said he. "She must amuseherself to good purpose to have a house like that. Is she pretty?"
"That depends on taste. She's no longer young, at any rate; but shehas superb golden hair. And, oh! how white she is--as white as snow,monsieur--as white as snow! She has a fine figure as well, and a mostdistinguished bearing--pays cash, too, to the very last farthing."
There could no longer be any doubt. The portrait sketched by thewine-vendor fully corresponded with the description given by thehotelkeeper in the Rue de Helder. Accordingly, M. Fortunat drainedhis glass, and threw fifty centimes on the counter. Then, crossing thestreet, he boldly rang at the door of Madame d'Argeles's house. If anyone had asked him what he proposed doing and saying if he succeeded ineffecting an entrance, he might have replied with perfect sincerity, "Idon't know." The fact is, he had but one aim, one settled purpose inhis mind. He was obstinately, FURIOUSLY resolved to derive some benefit,small or great, from this mysterious affair. As for the means ofexecution, he relied entirely on his audacity and sang-froid, convincedthat they would not fail him when the decisive moment came. "First ofall, I must see this lady," he said to himself. "The first words willdepend solely upon my first impressions. After that, I shall be guidedby circumstances."
An old serving-man, in a quiet, tasteful livery, opened the door,whereupon M. Fortunat, in a tone of authority, asked: "Madame Liad'Argeles?"
"Madame does not receive on Friday," was the reply.
With a petulant gesture, M. Fortunat rejoined: "All the same I mustspeak with her to-day. It is on a matter of the greatest importance.Give her my card." So saying, he held out a bit of pasteboard, on which,below his name, were inscribed the words: "Liquidations. Settlementseffected for insolvent parties."
"Ah! that's a different thing," said the servant. "Will monsieur takethe trouble to follow me?"
M. Fortunat did take the trouble; and he was conducted into a largedrawing-room where he was requested to sit down and await madame'scoming. Left to himself, he began an inventory of the apartment, as ageneral studies the ground on which he is about to give battle. No traceremained of the unfortunate scene of the previous night, save a brokencandelabrum on the chimney-piece. It was the one which Pascal Ferailleurhad armed himself with, when they talked of searching him, and which hehad thrown down in the courtyard, as he left the house. But this detaildid not attract M. Fortunat's attention. The only thing that puzzledhim was the large reflector placed above the chandelier, and it tookhim some time to fathom with what object it was placed there. Withoutprecisely intimidating him, the luxurious appointments of the housearoused his astonishment. "Everything here is in princely style," hemuttered, "and this shows that all the lunatics are not at Charentonyet. If Madame d'Argeles lacked bread in days gone by, she does so nolonger--that's evident."
Naturally enough this reflection led him to wonder why such a rich womanshould become the Marquis de Valorsay's accomplice, and lend a hand inso vile and cowardly a plot, which horrified even him--Fortunat. "Forshe must be an accomplice," he thought.
And he marvelled at the freak of fate which had connected theunfortunate man who had been sacrificed with the unacknowledgeddaughter, and the cast-off sister, of the Count de Chalusse. A vaguepresentiment, the mysterious voice of instinct, warned him, moreover,that his profit in the affair would depend upon the antagonism, oralliance, of Mademoiselle Marguerite and Madame d'Argeles. But hismeditations were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a discussion inan adjoining room. He stepped eagerly forward, hoping to hear something,and he did hear a man saying in a coarse voice: "What! I leave aninteresting game, and lose precious time in coming to offer you myservices, and you receive me like this! Zounds! madame, this will teachme not to meddle with what doesn't concern me, in future. So, good-bye,my dear lady. You'll learn some day, to your cost, the real nature ofthis villain of a Coralth whom you now defend so warmly."
This name of Coralth was also one of those which were engraven uponM. Fortunat's memory; and yet he did not notice it at the moment. Hisattention was so absorbed by what he had just heard that he could notfix his mind upon the object of his mission; and he only abandoned hisconjectures on hearing a rustling of skirts against the panels of thedoor leading into the hall.
The next moment Madame Lia d'Argeles entered the room. She was arrayedin a very elegant dressing-gown of gray cashmere, with blue satintrimmings, her hair was beautifully arranged, and she had neglected noneof the usual artifices of the toilette-table; still any one would haveconsidered her to be over forty years of age. Her sad face wore anexpression of melancholy resignation; and there were signs of recenttears in her swollen eyes, surrounded by bluish circles. She glanced ather visitor, and, in anything but an encouraging tone exclaimed: "Youdesired to speak with me, I believe?"
M. Fortunat bowed, almost disconcerted. He had expected to meet one ofthose stupid, ignorant young women, who make themselves conspicuous atthe afternoon promenade in the Bois de Boulogne; and he found himself inthe presence of an evidently cultivated and imperious woman, who,even in her degradation, retained all her pride of race, and awed him,despite all his coolness and assurance. "I do, indeed, madame, wish toconfer with you respecting some important interests," he answered.
She sank on to a chair; and, without asking her visitor to take a seat:"Explain yourself," she said, briefly.
M. Fortunat's knowledge of the importance of the game in which he hadalready risked so much had already restored his presence of mind. Hehad only needed a glance to form a true estimate of Madame d'Argeles'scharacter; and he realized that it would require a sudden, powerful, andwell-directed blow to shatter her
composure. "I have the unpleasant dutyof informing you of a great misfortune, madame," he began. "A person whois very dear to you, and who is nearly related to you, was a victim of afrightful accident yesterday evening and died this morning."
This gloomy preamble did not seem to produce the slightest effect onMadame d'Argeles. "Whom are you speaking of?" she coldly asked.
M. Fortunat assumed his most solemn manner as he replied: "Of yourbrother, madame--of the Count de Chalusse."
She sprang up, and a convulsive shudder shook her from head to foot."Raymond is dead!" she faltered.
"Alas! yes, madame. Struck with death at the very moment he wasrepairing to the appointment you had given him at the Hotel de Homburg."
This clever falsehood, which was not entirely one, would, so the agentthought, be of advantage to him, since it would prove he was acquaintedwith previous events. But Madame d'Argeles did not seem to notice, oreven to hear the remark. She had fallen back in her arm-chair, palerthan death. "How did he die?" she asked.
"From an attack of apoplexy."
"My God!" exclaimed the wretched woman, who now suspected the truth; "myGod, forgive me. It was my letter that killed him!" and she wept as ifher heart were breaking--this woman who had suffered and wept so much.
It is needless to say that M. Fortunat was moved with sympathy; healways evinced a respectful sympathy for the woes of others; but in thepresent instance, his emotion was greatly mitigated by the satisfactionhe felt at having succeeded so quickly and so completely. Madamed'Argeles had confessed everything! This was indeed a victory, for itmust be admitted that he had trembled lest she should deny all, and bidhim leave the house. He still saw many difficulties between his pocketand the Count de Chalusse's money; but he did not despair of conqueringthem after such a successful beginning. And he was muttering some wordsof consolation, when Madame d'Argeles suddenly looked up and said: "Imust see him--I will see him once more! Come, monsieur!" But a terriblememory rooted her to the spot and with a despairing gesture, and in avoice quivering with anguish she exclaimed:
"No, no--I cannot even do that."
M. Fortunat was not a little disturbed; and it was with a look ofsomething very like consternation that he glanced at Madame d'Argeles,who had reseated herself and was now sobbing violently, with her facehidden on the arm of her chair. "What prevents her?" he thought. "Whythis sudden terror now that her brother is dead? Is she unwillingto confess that she is a Chalusse? She must make up her mind to it,however, if she wishes to receive the count's property--and she mustmake up her mind to it, for my sake, if not for her own."
He remained silent, until it seemed to him that Madame d'Argeles wascalmer, then: "Excuse me, madame," he began, "for breaking in uponyour very natural grief, but duty requires me to remind you of yourinterests."
With the passive docility of those who are wretched, she wiped away hertears, and replied, gently: "I am listening, monsieur."
He had had time to prepare his discourse. "First of all, madame," heremarked, "I must tell you that I was the count's confidential agent. Inhim I lose a protector. Respect alone prevents me from saying a friend.He had no secrets from me." M. Fortunat saw so plainly that Madamed'Argeles did not understand a word of this sentimental exordium that hethought it necessary to add: "I tell you this, not so much to gainyour consideration and good-will, as to explain to you how I becameacquainted with these matters relating to your family--how I becameaware of your existence, for instance, which no one else suspected." Hepaused, hoping for some reply, a word, a sign, but not receiving thisencouragement, he continued: "I must, first of all, call your attentionto the peculiar situation of M. de Chalusse, and to the circumstanceswhich immediately preceded and attended his departure from life. Hisdeath was so unexpected that he was unable to make any disposition ofhis property by will, or even to indicate his last wishes. This, madame,is fortunate for you. M. de Chalusse had certain prejudices against you,as you are aware. Poor count. He certainly had the best heart in theworld, and yet hatred with him was almost barbaric in its intensity.There can be no doubt whatever, that he had determined to deprive youof your inheritance. With this intention he had already begun to converthis estates into ready money, and had he lived six months longer youwould not have received a penny."
With a gesture of indifference, which was difficult to explain afterthe vehemence and the threatening tone of her letter, Madame d'Argelesmurmured:
"Ah, well! what does it matter?"
"What does it matter?" repeated M. Fortunat. "I see, madame, that yourgrief prevents you from realizing the extent of the peril you haveescaped. M. de Chalusse had other, and more powerful reasons even thanhis hatred for wishing to deprive you of your share of his property.He had sworn that he would give a princely fortune to his beloveddaughter."
For the first time, Madame d'Argeles's features assumed an expression ofsurprise. "What, my brother had a child?"
"Yes, madame, an illegitimate daughter, Mademoiselle Marguerite, alovely and charming girl whom I had the pleasure of restoring to hiscare some years ago. She has been living with him for six months or so;and he was about to marry her, with an enormous dowry, to a noblemanbearing one of the proudest names in France, the Marquis de Valorsay."
The name shook Madame d'Argeles as if she had experienced the shock ofan electric battery, and springing to her feet, with flashing eyes: "Yousay that my brother's daughter was to marry M. de Valorsay?" she asked.
"It was decided--the marquis adored her."
"But she--she did not love him--confess that she did not love him."
M. Fortunat did not know what to reply. The question took him completelyby surprise; and feeling that his answer would have a very considerableinfluence upon what might follow, he hesitated.
"Will you answer me?" insisted Madame d'Argeles, imperiously. "She lovedanother, did she not?"
"To tell the truth, I believe she did," the agent stammered. "But I haveno proof of it, madame."
"Ah! the wretch!" she exclaimed with a threatening gesture; "thetraitor! the infamous scoundrel! Now I understand it all. And to thinkthat it occurred in my house. But no; it was best so, I can still repaireverything." And darting to the bell-rope, she pulled it violently.
A servant at once appeared. "Job," she said, "hasten after BaronTrigault--he left the house a moment ago and bring him back. I mustspeak with him. If you do not overtake him, go to his club, to hishouse, to the houses of his friends, go to every place where there isany chance of finding him. Make haste, and do not return without him."
And as the man turned to obey, she added: "My carriage must be in thecourtyard. Take it."
Meanwhile M. Fortunat's expression of countenance had undergone a markedchange. "Well!" thought he, "I have just made a mess of it! M. Valorsayis unmasked; and now, may I be hung, if he ever marries MademoiselleMarguerite. Certainly, I do not owe much to the scoundrel, for he hasdefrauded me of forty thousand francs, but what will he say when hediscovers what I've done? He will never believe me if I tell him that itwas an involuntary blunder, and Heaven only knows what revenge he willplan! A man of his disposition, knowing that he is ruined, is capableof anything! So much the worse for me. Before night I shall warn thecommissary of police in my district, and I shall not go out unarmed!"
The servant went off, and Madame d'Argeles then turned to her visitoragain. But she seemed literally transfigured by the storm of passionwhich was raging in her heart and mind; her cheeks were crimson, and anunwonted energy sparkled in her eyes. "Let us finish this business," shesaid, curtly; "I am expecting some one."
M. Fortunat bowed with a rather pompous, but at the same time obsequiousair. "I have only a few more words to say," he declared. "M. de Chalussehaving no other heir, I have come to acquaint you with your rights."
"Very good; continue, if you please."
"You have only to present yourself, and establish your identity, to beput in possession of your brother's property."
Madame d'Argeles gave the agent a lo
ok of mingled irony and distrust;and after a moment's reflection, she replied: "I am very gratefulfor your interest, monsieur; but if I have any rights, it is not myintention to urge them."
It seemed to M. Fortunat as if he were suddenly falling from someimmense height. "You are not in earnest," he exclaimed, "or you areignorant of the fact that M. de Chalusse leaves perhaps twenty millionsbehind him."
"My course is decided on, monsieur; irrevocably decided on."
"Very well, madame; but it often happens that the court institutesinquiries for the heirs of large fortunes, and this may happen in yourcase."
"I should reply that I was not a member of the Chalusse family, and thatwould end it. Startled by the news of my brother's death, I allowed mysecret to escape me. I shall know how to keep it in future."
Anger succeeded astonishment in M. Fortunat's mind. "Madame, madame,what can you be thinking of?" he cried, impetuously. "Accept--inHeaven's name--accept this inheritance; if not for yourself, for thesake of----"
In his excitement, he was about to commit a terrible blunder. He saw itin time, and checked himself.
"For the sake of whom?" asked Madame d'Argeles, in an altered voice.
"For the sake of Mademoiselle Marguerite, madame; for the sake of thispoor child, who is your niece. The count never having acknowledged heras his daughter, she will be left actually without bread, while herfather's millions go to enrich the state."
"That will suffice, monsieur; I will think of it. And now, enough!"
The dismissal was so imperious that M. Fortunat bowed and went off,completely bewildered by this denouement. "She's crazy!" he said tohimself. "Crazy in the fullest sense of the word. She refuses thecount's millions from a silly fear of telling people that she belongsto the Chalusse family. She threatened her brother, but she would neverhave carried her threats into execution. And she prefers her presentposition to such a fortune. What lunacy!" But, although he wasdisappointed and angry, he did not by any means despair. "Fortunatelyfor me," he thought, "this proud and haughty lady has a son somewherein the world. And she'll do for him what she would not consent to do forherself. Through her, with a little patience and Victor Chupin's aid,I shall succeed in discovering this boy. He must be an intelligentyouth--and we'll see if he surrenders his millions as easily as hismamma does."
The Count's Millions Page 15
