Caught in the Net

by Emile Gaboriau

  CHAPTER IV.

  A TRUSTWORTHY SERVANT.

  In the City of Paris it is impossible to find a more fashionable quarterthan the one which is bounded on the one side by the Rue Faubourg SaintHonore and on the other by the Seine, and commences at the Place de laConcorde and ends at the Avenue de l'Imperatrice. In this favored spotmillionaires seem to bloom like the rhododendron in the sunny south.There are the magnificent palaces which they have erected for theiraccommodation, where the turf is ever verdant, and where the flowersbloom perennially; but the most gorgeous of all these mansions was theHotel de Mussidan, the last _chef d'oeuvre_ of Sevair, that skilfularchitect who died just as the world was beginning to recognize histalents. With a spacious courtyard in front and a magnificent garden inthe rear, the Hotel de Mussidan is as elegant as it is commodious.The exterior was extremely plain, and not disfigured by floridornamentation. White marble steps, with a light and elegant railing atthe sides, lead to the wide doors which open into the hall. The busy humof the servants at work at an early hour in the yard tells that an ampleestablishment is kept up. There can be seen luxurious carriages, foroccasions of ceremony, and the park phaeton, and the simple broughamwhich the Countess uses when she goes out shopping; and that carefullygroomed thoroughbred is Mirette, the favorite riding horse ofMademoiselle Sabine. Mascarin and his confederate descended from theircab a little distance at the corner of the Avenue Matignon. Mascarin, inhis dark suit, with his spotless white cravat and glittering spectacles,looked like some highly respectable functionary of State. Hortebise worehis usual smile, though his cheek was pale.

  "Now," remarked Mascarin, "let me see,--on what footing do you standwith the Mussidans? Do they look upon you as a friend?"

  "No, no; a poor doctor, whose ancestors were not among the Crusades,could not be the intimate friend of such haughty nobles as theMussidans."

  "But the Countess knows you, and will not refuse to receive you, norhave you turned out as soon as you begin to speak; for, taking shelterbehind some rogue without a name, you can shelter your own reputation. Iwill see the Count."

  "Take care of him," said Hortebise thoughtfully. "He has a reputationfor being a man of ungovernable temper, and, at the first word from youthat he objects to, would throw you out of the window as soon as look atyou."

  Mascarin shrugged his shoulders. "I can bring him to reason," answeredhe.

  The two confederates walked a little past the Hotel de Mussidan, and thedoctor explained the interior arrangements of the house.

  "I," continued Mascarin, "will insist upon the Count's breaking off hisdaughter's engagement with M. de Breulh-Faverlay, but shall not saya word about the Marquis de Croisenois, while you will take theopportunity of putting his pretensions before the Countess, and will notsay a word of M. de Breulh-Faverlay."

  "I have learned my lesson, and shall not forget it."

  "You see, doctor, the beauty of the whole affair is, that the Countesswill wonder how her husband will take her interference, while he will beat a loss how to break the news to his wife. How surprised they will bewhen they find that they have both the same end in view!"

  There was something so droll in the whole affair, that the doctor burstinto a loud laugh.

  "We go by such different roads," said he, "that they will never suspectthat we are working together. Faith! my dear Baptiste, you are much moreclever than I thought."

  "Don't praise me until you see that I am successful."

  Mascarin stopped opposite to a _cafe_ in the Faubourg Saint Honore.

  "Wait here for me, doctor," said he, "while I make a little call. If allis all right; I will come for you again; then I will see the Count, andtwenty minutes later do you go to the house and ask for the Countess."

  The clock struck four as the worthy confederates parted, and Mascarincontinued his way along the Faubourg Saint Honore, and again stoppedbefore a public house, which he entered, the master of which, FatherCanon, was so well known in the neighborhood that he had not thought itworth while to have his name painted over the door. He did not professto serve his best wine to casual customers, but for regular frequentersof his house, chiefly the servants of noble families, he kept a betterbrand of wine. Mascarin's respectable appearance inclined the landlordto step forward. Among Frenchmen, who are always full of gayety, aserious exterior is ever an excellent passport.

  "What can I do for you, sir?" asked he with great politeness.

  "Can I see Florestan?"

  "In Count de Mussidan's service, I believe?"

  "Just so; I have an appointment with him here."

  "He is downstairs in the band-room," replied the landlord. "I will sendfor him."

  "Don't trouble; I will go down," and, without waiting for permission,Mascarin descended some steps that apparently led to a cellar.

  "It appears to me," murmured Father Canon, "that I have seen this cove'sface before."

  Mascarin pushed open a door at the bottom of the flight of stairs, anda strange and appalling noise issued from within (but this neithersurprised nor alarmed him), and entered a vaulted room arranged like a_cafe_, with seats and tables, filled with customers. In the centre, twomen, in their shirt sleeves, with crimson faces, were performing uponhorns; while an old man, with leather gaiters, buttoning to the knee,and a broad leather belt, was whistling the air the hornplayers wereexecuting. As Mascarin politely took off his hat, the performers ceased,and the old man discontinued his whistling, while a well-built youngfellow, with pumps and stockings, and wearing a fashionable mustache,exclaimed,--

  "Aha, it is that good old Mascarin. I was expecting you; will youdrink?"

  Without waiting for further invitation Mascarin helped himself from abottle that stood near.

  "Did Father Canon tell you that I was here?" asked the young man, whowas the Florestan Mascarin had been inquiring for. "You see," continuedhe, "that the police will not permit us to practise the horn; so, youobserve, Father Canon has arranged this underground studio, from whenceno sound reaches the upper world."

  The hornplayers had now resumed their lessons, and Florestan wascompelled to place both hands to the side of his mouth, in order torender himself audible, and to shout with all his might.

  "That old fellow there is a huntsman in the service of the Duke deChampdoce, and is the finest hornplayer going. I have only had twentylessons from him, and am getting on wonderfully."

  "Ah!" exclaimed Mascarin, "when I have more time I must hear yourperformance; but to-day I am in a hurry, and want to say a few words toyou in private."

  "Certainly, but suppose we go upstairs and ask for a private room."

  The rooms he referred to were not very luxuriously furnished, but wereadmirably suited for confidential communications; and had the walls beenable to speak, they could have told many a strange tale.

  Florestan and Mascarin seated themselves in one of these before a smalltable, upon which Father Canon placed a bottle of wine and two glasses.

  "I asked you to meet me here, Florestan," began Mascarin, "because youcan do me a little favor."

  "Anything that is in my power I will do," said the young man.

  "First, a few words regarding yourself. How do you get on with Count deMussidan?"

  Mascarin had adopted an air of familiarity which he knew would pleasehis companion.

  "I don't care about the place," replied Florestan, "and I am going toask Beaumarchef to look out another one for me."

  "I am surprised at that; all your predecessors said that the Count was aperfect gentleman--"

  "Just try him yourself," broke in the valet. "In the first place he isas fickle as the wind, and awfully suspicious. He never leaves anythingabout,--no letters, no cigars, and no money. He spends half his time inlocking things up, and goes to bed with his keys under his pillow."

  "I allow that such suspicion on his part is most unpleasant."

  "It is indeed, and besides he is awfully violent. He gets in a rageabout nothing, and half a dozen times in the day he looks ready to
murder you. On my word, I am really frightened at him."

  This account, coupled with what he had heard from Hortebise seemed torender Mascarin very thoughtful.

  "Is he always like this, or only at intervals?"

  "He is always a beast, but he is worse after drink or losing at cards.He is never home until after four in the morning."

  "And what does his wife say?"

  The query made Florestan laugh.

  "Madame does not bother herself about her lord and master, I can assureyou. Sometimes they don't meet for weeks. All she wants is plenty ofmoney. And ain't we just dunned!"

  "But the Mussidans are wealthy?"

  "Tremendously so, but at times there is not the value of a franc in thehouse. Then Madame is like a tigress, and would sent to borrow from allher friends."

  "But she must feel much humiliated?"

  "Not a bit; when she wants a heavy amount, she sends off to the Duke deChampdoce, and he always parts; but she doesn't mince matters with him."

  "It would seem as if you had known the contents of your mistress'sletters?" remarked Mascarin with a smile.

  "Of course I have; I like to know what is in the letters I carry about.She only says, 'My good friend, I want so much,' and back comes themoney without a word. Of course it is easy to see that there has beensomething between them."

  "Yes, evidently."

  "And when master and missus do meet they only have rows, and such rows!When the working man has had a drop too much, he beats his wife, shescreams, then they kiss and make it up; but the Mussidans say things toeach other in cold blood that neither can ever forgive."

  From the air with which Mascarin listened to these details, it almostseemed as if he had been aware of them before.

  "Then," said he, "Mademoiselle Sabine is the only nice one in thehouse?"

  "Yes, she is always gentle and considerate."

  "Then you think that M. de Breulh-Faverlay will be a happy man?"

  "Oh, yes; but perhaps this marriage will----" but here Florestaninterrupted himself and assumed an air of extreme caution. After lookingcarefully round, he lowered his voice, and continued, "MademoiselleSabine has been left so much to herself that she acts just as she thinksfit."

  "Do you mean," asked Mascarin, "that the young lady has a lover?"

  "Just so."

  "But that must be wrong; and let me tell you that you ought not torepeat such a story."

  The man grew quite excited.

  "Story," repeated he; "I know what I know. If I spoke of a lover, it isbecause I have seen him with my own eyes, not once, but twice."

  From the manner in which Mascarin received this intelligence, Florestansaw that he was interested in the highest degree.

  "I'll tell you all about it," continued he. "The first time was when shewent to mass; it came on to rain suddenly, and Modeste, her maid, beggedme to go for an umbrella. As soon as I came back I went in and sawMademoiselle Sabine standing by the receptacle for holy water, talkingto a young fellow. Of course I dodged behind a pillar, and kept a watchon the pair--"

  "But you don't found all your story on this?"

  "I think you would, had you seen the way they looked into each other'seyes."

  "What was he like?"

  "Very good looking, about my height, with an aristocratic air."

  "How about the second time?"

  "Ah, that is a longer story. I went one day with Mademoiselle when shewas going to see a friend in the Rue Marboeuf. She waited at a corner ofthe street, and beckoned me to her. 'Florestan,' said she, 'I forgot topost this letter; go and do so; I will wait here for you.'"

  "Of course you read it?"

  "No. I thought there was something wrong. She wants to get rid of you,so, instead of posting it, I slunk behind a tree and waited. I hadhardly done so, when the young fellow I had seen at the chapel cameround the corner; but I scarcely knew him. He was dressed just like aworking man, in a blouse all over plaster. They talked for aboutten minutes, and Mademoiselle Sabine gave him what looked like aphotograph."

  By this time the bottle was empty, and Florestan was about to call foranother, when Mascarin checked him, saying--

  "Not to-day; it is growing late, and I must tell you what I want you todo for me. Is the Count at home now?"

  "Of course he is; he has not left his room for two days, owing to havingslipped going downstairs."

  "Well, my lad, I must see your master; and if I sent up my card, theodds are he would not see me, so I rely upon you to show me up withoutannouncing me."

  Florestan remained silent for a few minutes.

  "It is no easy job," he muttered, "for the Count does not likeunexpected visitors, and the Countess is with him just now. However, asI am not going to stay, I'll chance it."

  Mascarin rose from his seat.

  "We must not be seen together," said he; "I'll settle the score; do yougo on, and I will follow in five minutes. Remember we don't know eachother."

  "I am fly; and mind you look out a good place for me."

  Mascarin paid the bill, and then looked into the _cafe_ to inform thedoctor of his movements, and a few minutes later, Florestan in hismost sonorous voice, threw open the door of his master's room andannounced,--

  "M. Mascarin."