XVII.
Mademoiselle Marguerite had been greatly surprised on the occasionof her visit to M. Fortunat when she saw Victor Chupin suddenly stepforward and eagerly exclaim: "I shall be unworthy of the name I bear ifI do not find M. Ferailleur for you in less than a fortnight."
It is true that M. Fortunat's clerk did not appear to the best advantageon this occasion. In order to watch M. de Coralth, he had again arrayedhimself in his cast-off clothes, and with his blouse and his worn-outshoes, his "knockers" and his glazed cap, he looked the vagabond toperfection. Still, strange as it may seem, Mademoiselle Margueritedid not once doubt the devotion of this strange auxiliary. Without aninstant's hesitation she replied, "I accept your services, monsieur."
Chupin felt at least a head taller as he heard this beautiful young girlspeak to him in a voice as clear and as sonorous as crystal. "Ah!you are right to trust me," he rejoined, striking his chest with hisclinched hand, "for I have a heart--but----"
"But what, monsieur?"
"I am wondering if you would consent to do what I wish. It would be avery good plan, but if it displeases you, we will say no more about it."
"And what do you wish?"
"To see you every day, so as to tell you what I've done, and to obtainsuch directions as I may require. I'm well aware that I can't go to M.de Fondege's door and ask to speak to you; but there are other waysof seeing each other. For instance, every evening at five o-clockprecisely, I might pass along the Rue Pigalle, and warn you of mypresence by such a signal as this: 'Pi-ouit!'" So saying he gave vent tothe peculiar call, half whistle, half ejaculation, which is familiar tothe Parisian working-classes. "Then," he resumed, "you might come downand I would tell you the news; besides, I might often help you by doingerrands."
Mademoiselle Marguerite reflected for a moment, and then bowing herhead, she replied:
"What you suggest is quite practicable. On and after to-morrow evening Iwill watch for you; and if I don't come down at the end of half an hour,you will know that I am unavoidably detained."
Chupin ought to have been satisfied. But no, he had still anotherrequest to make; and instinct, supplying the lack of education, told himthat it was a delicate one. Indeed, he dared not present his petition;but his embarrassment was so evident, and he twisted his poor cap sodespairingly, that at last the young girl gently asked him: "Is thereanything more?"
He still hesitated, but eventually, mustering all his courage, hereplied: "Well, yes, mademoiselle. I've never seen Monsieur Ferailleur.Is he tall or short, light or dark, stout or thin? I do not know. Imight stand face to face with him without being able to say, 'It's he.'But it would be quite a different thing if I only had a photograph ofhim."
A crimson flush spread over Mademoiselle Marguerite's face. Still sheanswered, unaffectedly, "I will give you M. Ferailleur's photographto-morrow, monsieur."
"Then I shall be all right!" exclaimed Chupin. "Have no fears,mademoiselle, we shall outwit these scoundrels!"
So far a silent witness of this scene, M. Fortunat now felt it his dutyto interfere. He was not particularly pleased by his clerk's suddenlyincreased importance; and yet it mattered little to him, for his onlyobject was to revenge himself on Valorsay. "Victor is a capable andtrustworthy young fellow, mademoiselle," he declared; "he has grown upunder my training, and I think you will find him a faithful servant."
A "have you finished, you old liar?" rose to Chupin's lips, but respectfor Mademoiselle Marguerite prevented him from uttering the words."Then everything is decided," she said, pleasantly. And with a smile sheoffered her hand to Chupin as one does in concluding a bargain.
If he had yielded to his first impulse he would have thrown himself onhis knees and kissed this hand of hers, the whitest and most beautifulhe had ever seen. As it was, he only ventured to touch it with hisfinger-tips, and yet he changed color two or three times. "What awoman!" he exclaimed, when she had left them. "A perfect queen! A manwould willingly allow himself to be chopped in pieces for her sake; andshe's as good and as clever as she's handsome. Did you notice, monsieur,that she did not offer to pay me. She understood that I offered to workfor her for my own pleasure, for my own satisfaction and honor. Heavens!how I should have chafed if she had offered me money. How provoked Ishould have been!"
Chupin was so fascinated that he wished no reward for his toil! This wasso astonishing that M. Fortunat remained for a moment speechless withsurprise. "Have you gone mad, Victor?" he inquired at last.
"Mad! I?--not at all; I'm only becoming----" He stopped short. He wasgoing to add: "an honest man." But it is scarcely proper to talk aboutthe rope in the hangman's house, and there are certain words whichshould never be pronounced in the presence of certain people. Chupinknew this, and so he quickly resumed: "When I become rich, when I'm agreat banker, and have a host of clerks who spend their time in countingmy gold behind a grating, I should like to have a wife of my own likethat. But I must be off about my business now, so till we meet again,monsieur."
The foregoing conversation will explain how it happened that Madame Leonchanced to surprise her dear young lady in close conversation witha vagabond clad in a blouse. Victor Chupin was not a person to makepromises and then leave them unfulfilled. Though he was usuallyunimpressionable, like all who lead a precarious existence, still, whenhis emotions were once aroused, they did not spend themselves inempty protestations. It became his fixed determination to find PascalFerailleur, and the difficulties of the task in no wise weakened hisresolution. His starting point was that Pascal had lived in the Rued'Ulm, and had suddenly gone off with his mother, with the apparentintention of sailing for America. This was all he knew positively, andeverything else was mere conjecture. Still Mademoiselle Marguerite hadconvinced him that instead of leaving Paris, Pascal was really stillthere, only waiting for an opportunity to establish his innocence, andto wreak his vengeance upon M. de Coralth and the Marquis de Valorsay.On the other hand, with such a slight basis to depend upon, was it notalmost madness to hope to discover a man who had such strong reasons forconcealing himself? Chupin did not think so in fact, when he declaredhis determination to perform this feat, his plan was already perfected.
On leaving M. Fortunat's office, he hastened straight to the Rue d'Ulm,at the top of his speed. The concierge of the house where Pascal hadformerly resided was by no means a polite individual. He was the verysame man who had answered Mademoiselle Marguerite's questions so rudely;but Chupin had a way of conciliating even the most crabbish doorkeeper,and of drawing from him such information as he desired. He learned thatat nine o'clock on the sixteenth of October Madame Ferailleur, afterseeing her trunks securely strapped on to a cab had entered the vehicle,ordering the driver to take her to the Railway Station in the Placedu Havre! Chupin wished to ascertain the number of the cab, but theconcierge could not give it. He mentioned, however, that this cab hadbeen procured by Madame Ferailleur's servant-woman, who lived only a fewsteps from the house. A moment later Chupin was knocking at thiswoman's door. She was a very worthy person, and bitterly regretted themisfortunes which had befallen her former employers. She confirmed thedoorkeeper's story, but unfortunately she, too, had quite forgotten thenumber of the vehicle. All she could say was that she had hired it atthe cab stand in the Rue Soufflot, and that the driver was a portly,pleasant-faced man.
Chupin repaired at once to the Rue Soufflot, where he found the manin charge of the stand in the most savage mood imaginable. He began byasking Chupin what right he had to question him, why he wished to do so,and if he took him for a spy. He added that his duty only consisted innoting the arrivals and departures of the drivers, and that he couldgive no information whatever. There was evidently nothing to be gainedfrom this ferocious personage; and yet Chupin bowed none the lesspolitely as he left the little office. "This is bad," he growled, ashe walked away, for he was really at a loss what to do next; and if notdiscouraged, he was at least extremely disconcerted and perplexed. Ah!if he had only had a card from the prefecture of police in his pocke
t,or if he had been more imposing in appearance, he would have encounteredno obstacles; he might then have tracked this cab through the streetsof Paris as easily as he could have followed a man bearing a lightedlantern through the darkness. But poor and humble, without letters ofrecommendation, and with no other auxiliaries than his own shrewdnessand experience, he had a great deal to contend against. Pausing in hiswalk, he had taken off his cap and was scratching his head furiously,when suddenly he exclaimed: "What an ass I am!" in so loud a tone thatseveral passers-by turned to see who was applying this unflatteringepithet to himself.
Chupin had just remembered one of M. Isidore Fortunat's debtors, a manwhom he often visited in the hope of extorting some trifling amountfrom him, and who was employed in the Central office of the Paris CabCompany. "If any one can help me out of this difficulty, it must be thatfellow," he said to himself. "I hope I shall find him at his desk! Come,Victor, my boy, you must look alive!"
However, he could not present himself at the office in the garb hethen wore, and so, much against his will, he went home and changedhis clothes. Then he took a cab at his own expense, and drove with allpossible speed to the main office of the Cab Company, in the Avenue deSegur. Nevertheless it was already ten o'clock when he arrived there.He was more fortunate than he had dared to hope. The man he wantedhad charge of a certain department, and was compelled to return to theoffice every evening after dinner. He was there now.
He was a poor devil who, while receiving a salary of fifteen hundredfrancs a year, spent a couple of thousand, and utilized his wits indefending his meagre salary from his creditors. On perceiving Chupin,he made a wrathful gesture, and his first words were: "I haven't got apenny."
But Chupin smiled his most genial smile. "What!" said he, "do you fancyI've come to collect money from you here, and at this hour? You don'tknow me. I merely came to ask a favor of you."
The clerk's clouded face brightened. "Since that is the case, pray takea seat, and tell me how I can serve you," he replied.
"Very well. At nine o'clock in the evening, on the sixteenth of October,a lady living in the Rue d'Ulm sent to the stand in the Rue Soufflot fora cab. Her baggage was placed upon it, and she went away no one knowswhere. However, this lady is a relative of my employer, and he so muchwishes to find her that he would willingly give a hundred francsover and above the amount you owe him, to ascertain the number of thevehicle. He pretends that you can give him this number if you choose;and it isn't an impossibility, is it?"
"On the contrary, nothing could be easier," replied the clerk, glad ofan opportunity to explain the ingenious mechanism of the office to anoutsider. "Have you ten minutes to spare?"
"Ten days, if necessary," rejoined Chupin.
"Then you shall see." So saying the clerk rose and went into theadjoining room, whence a moment later he returned carrying a large greenbox. "This contains the October reports sent in every evening by thebranch offices," he remarked in explanation. He next opened the box,glanced over the documents it contained, and joyfully exclaimed: "Herewe have it. This is the report sent in by the superintendent of thecab-stand in the Rue Soumot on the 16th October. Here is a list of thevehicles that arrived or left from a quarter to nine o'clock till aquarter past nine. Five cabs came in, but we need not trouble ourselvesabout them. Three went out bearing the numbers 1781, 3025, and 2140. Oneof these three must have taken your employer's relative."
"Then I must question the three drivers."
The clerk shrugged his shoulders. "What is the use of doing that?" hesaid, disdainfully. "Ah! you don't understand the way in which we manageour business! The drivers are artful, but the company isn't a fool. Byexpending a hundred and fifty thousand francs on its detective forceevery year, it knows what each cab is doing at each hour of the day. Iwill now look for the reports sent in respecting these three drivers.One of the three will give us the desired information."
This time the search was a considerably longer one, and Chupin wasbeginning to grow impatient, when the clerk waved a soiled and crumpledsheet of paper triumphantly in the air, and cried: "What did I tell you?This is the report concerning the driver of No. 2140. Listen: Friday, atten minutes past nine, sent to the Rue d'Ulm---- do you think of that?"
"It's astonishing! But where can I find this driver?"
"I can't say, just at this moment; he's on duty now. But as he belongsto this division he will be back sooner or later, so you had betterwait."
"I will wait then; only as I've had no dinner, I'll go out and get amouthful to eat. I can promise you that M. Fortunat will send you backyour note cancelled."
Chupin was really very hungry, and so he rushed off to a littleeating-house which he had remarked on his way to the office. Therefor eighteen sous he dined, or rather supped, like a prince; and as hesubsequently treated himself to a cup of coffee and a glass of brandy,as a reward for his toil, some little time had elapsed when he returnedto the office. However, No. 2140 had not returned in his absence, so hestationed himself at the door to wait for it.
His patience was severely tried, for it was past midnight when Chupinsaw the long-looked-for vehicle enter the courtyard. The driver slowlydescended from his box and then went into the cashier's office to payover his day's earnings, and hand in his report. Then he came out againevidently bound for home. As the servant-woman had said, he was a stout,jovial-faced man, and he did not hesitate to accept a glass of "nomatter what" in a wine-shop that was still open. Whether he believed thestory that Chupin told to excuse his questions or not, at all events heanswered them very readily. He perfectly remembered having been sentto the Rue d'Ulm, and spoke of his "fare" as a respectable-looking oldlady, enumerated the number of her trunks, boxes, and packages, and evendescribed their form. He had taken her to the railway station, stoppingat the entrance in the Rue d'Amsterdam; and when the porters inquired,as usual, "Where is this baggage to go?" the old lady had answered, "ToLondon."
Chupin felt decidedly crestfallen on hearing this. He had fancied thatMadame Ferailleur had merely announced her intention of driving to theHavre railway station so as to set possible spies on the wrong track,and he would have willingly wagered anything, that after going a shortdistance she had given the cabman different instructions. Not so,however, he had taken her straight to the station. Was MademoiselleMarguerite deceived then? Had Pascal really fled from his enemieswithout an attempt at resistance? Such a course seemed impossible on hispart. Thinking over all this, Chupin slept but little that night, andthe next morning, before five o'clock, he was wandering about theRue d'Amsterdam peering into the wine-shops in search of some railwayporter. It did not take him long to find one, and having done so, hemade him the best of friends in less than no time. Although this porterknew nothing about the matter himself, he took Chupin to a comrade whoremembered handling the baggage of an old lady bound for London, on theevening of the sixteenth. However, this baggage was not put into thetrain after all; the old lady had left it in the cloak-room, and thenext day a fat woman of unprepossessing appearance had called for thethings, and had taken them away, after paying the charges for storage.This circumstance had been impressed on the porter's mind by the factthat the woman had not given him a farthing gratuity, although he hadbeen much more obliging than the regulations required. However, whenshe went off, she remarked in a honeyed voice, but with an exceedinglyimpudent air: "I'll repay you for your kindness, my lad. I keep awine-shop on the Route d'Asnieres, and if you ever happen to pass thatway with one of your comrades, come in, and I'll reward you with afamous drink!"
What had exasperated the porter almost beyond endurance, was thecertainty he felt that she was mocking him. "For she didn't give me hername or address, the old witch!" he growled. "She had better look out,if I ever get hold of her again!"
But Chupin had already gone off, unmoved by his informant's grievances.Now that he had discovered the stratagem which Madame Ferailleur hademployed to elude her pursuers, his conjectures were changed intocertainties. This information proved that Pascal WA
S concealed somewherein Paris; but where? If he could only find out this woman who had calledfor the trunks, it would lead to the discovery of Madame Ferailleur andher son but how was he to ascertain the woman's whereabouts? She hadsaid that she kept a wine-shop on the Route d'Asnieres. Was this true?Was it not more likely that this vague direction was only a freshprecaution?
This much was certain: Chupin, who knew every wine-shop on the Routed'Asnieres, did not remember any such powerful matron as the porter haddescribed. He had not forgotten Madame Vantrasson. But to imagine anybond of interest between Pascal and such a woman as she was, seemedabsurd in the extreme. However, as he found himself in such a plight andcould not afford to let any chance escape, he repaired merely for form'ssake to the Vantrasson establishment. It had not changed in the leastsince the evening he visited it in company with M. Fortunat--but seenin the full light of day, it appeared even more dingy and dilapidated.Madame Vantrasson was not in her accustomed place, behind the counter,between her black cat--her latest idol--and the bottles from which sheprepared her ratafia, now her supreme consolation here below. There wasno one in the shop but the landlord. Seated at a table, with a lightedcandle near him, he was engaged in an occupation which would have setChupin's mind working if he had noticed it. Vantrasson had taken somewax from a sealed bottle, and, after melting it at the flame of thecandle, he let it drop slowly on to the table. He then pressed a souupon it, and when the wax had become sufficiently cool and stiff, heremoved it from the table without destroying the impression, by means ofa thin bladed knife similar to those which glaziers use. However, Chupindid not remark this singular employment. He was engaged in mentallyejaculating, "Good! the old woman isn't here." And as his plan ofcampaign was already prepared, he entered without further hesitation.
As Vantrasson heard the door turn upon its hinges, he rose so awkwardly,or rather so skilfully, as to let all his implements, wax, knife, andimpressions, fall on the floor behind the counter. "What can I do toserve you?" he asked, in a husky voice.
"Nothing. I wished to speak with your wife."
"She has gone out. She works for a family in the morning."
This was a gleam of light. Chupin had not thought of the only hypothesisthat could explain what seemed inexplicable to him. However, he knew howto conceal his satisfaction, and so with an air of disappointment, heremarked: "That's too bad! I shall be obliged to call again."
"So you have a secret to tell my wife?"
"Not at all."
"Won't I do as well, then?"
"I'll tell you how it is. I'm employed in the baggage room of thewestern railway station, and I wanted to know if your wife didn't callthere a few days ago for some trunks?"
The landlord's features betrayed the vague perturbation of a person whocan count the days by his mistakes, and it was with evident hesitationthat he replied:
"Yes, my wife went to the Havre station for some baggage last Sunday."
"I thought so. Well, this is my errand: either the clerk forgot to askher for her receipt, or else he lost it. He can't find it anywhere. Icame to ask your wife if she hadn't kept it. When she returns, pleasedeliver my message; and if she has the receipt, pray send it to methrough the post."
The ruse was not particularly clever, but it was sufficiently so todeceive Vantrasson. "To whom am I to send this receipt?" he asked.
"To me, Victor Chupin, Faubourg Saint Denis," was the reply.
Imprudent youth! alas, he little suspected what a liberty M. Fortunathad taken with his name on the evening he visited the Vantrassons. Buton his side the landlord of the Model Lodging House had not forgottenthe name mentioned by the agent. He turned pale with anger on beholdinghis supposed creditor, and quickly slipping between the visitor and thedoor, he said: "So your name is Victor Chupin?"
"Yes, certainly."
"And you are in the employment of the Railway Company?"
"As I just told you."
"That doesn't prevent you from acting as a collector, does it?"
Chupin instinctively recoiled, convinced that he had betrayed himselfby some blunder, but unable to discover in what he had erred. "I did dosomething in that line formerly," he faltered.
Vantrasson doubted no longer. "So you confess that you are a vilescoundrel!" he exclaimed. "You confess that you purchased an oldpromissory note of mine for fourpence, and then sent a man here to seizemy goods! Ah! you'd like to trample the poor under foot, would you! Verywell. I have you now, and I'll settle your account! Take that!" And sosaying, he dealt his supposed creditor a terrible blow with his clinchedfist that sent him reeling to the other end of the shop.
Fortunately, Chupin was very nimble. He did not lose his footing, butsprung over a table and used it as a rampart to shield himself from hisdangerous assailant. In the open field, he could easily have protectedhimself; but here in this narrow space, and hemmed in a corner, he feltthat despite this barrier he was lost. "What a devil of a mess!" hethought, as with wonderful agility he avoided Vantrasson's fist, a fistthat would have felled an ox. He had an idea of calling for assistance.But would any one hear him? Would any one reply? And if help came, wouldnot the police be sure to hear of the broil? And if they did, wouldthere not be an investigation which would perhaps disturb Pascal'splans? Fearing to injure those whom he wished to serve, he resolved tolet himself be hacked to pieces rather than allow a cry to escape him;but he changed his tactics, and instead of attempting to parry the blowsas he had done before, he now only thought of gaining the door, inch byinch.
He had almost reached it, not without suffering considerable injury,when it suddenly opened, and a young man clad in black, with a smoothshaven face, entered the shop, and sternly exclaimed: "Why! what's allthis?"
The sight of the newcomer seemed to stupefy Vantrasson. "Ah! it is you,Monsieur Maumejan?" he faltered, with a crestfallen air. "It's nothing;we were only in fun."
M. Maumejan seemed perfectly satisfied with this explanation; and in theindifferent tone of a man who is delivering a message, the meaning ofwhich he scarcely understood, he said: "A person who knows that yourwife is in my employ requested me to ask you if you would be ready toattend to that little matter she spoke of."
"Certainly. I was preparing for it a moment ago."
Chupin heard no more. He had hurried out, his clothes in disorder, andhimself not a little hurt; but his delight made him lose all thought ofhis injuries. "That's M. Ferailleur," he muttered, "I'm sure of it, andI'm going to prove it." So saying he hid himself in the doorway of avacant house a few paces distant from the Vantrassons', and waited.
Then as soon as M. Maumejan emerged from the Model Lodging House, hefollowed him. The young man with the clean shaven face walked up theRoute d'Asnieres, turned to the right into the Route de la Revolte, andat last paused before a house of humble aspect. At that moment Chupindarted toward him, and softly called, "M'sieur Ferailleur!"
The young man turned instinctively. Then seeing his mistake, and feelingthat he had betrayed himself, he sprang upon Chupin, and caught him bythe wrists: "Scoundrel! who are you?" he exclaimed. "Who has hired youto follow me! What do you want of me?"
"Not so fast, m'sieur! Don't be so rough! You hurt me. I'm sent byMademoiselle Marguerite!"
Baron Trigault's Vengeance Page 17
