The Man with the Lead Stomach

by Jean-FranCois Parot

  ‘Nicolas …’

  ‘Yes, my friend.’

  ‘I’ve seen the coachman, the Minister of Bavaria’s coachman.’

  ‘That’s very good, my friend.’

  ‘He saw a thing or two … The face … the face …’

  He collapsed without finishing his sentence. Soon the house resounded to the snores of the three men, while Awa was busy until late into the night putting everything back in order.

  NOTES – CHAPTER IX

  1. ‘[T]he breadth of a plank used as a unit of vertical measurement in a ship’s side’ (Oxford English Dictionary).

  X

  THE LABYRINTH

  What apparitions did I see!

  All cross that fatal stream, said he.

  However sweet may seem this place,

  Death here doth show its grisly face.

  HENRI RICHER

  Wednesday 31 October 1761

  Waking up was something of a struggle, even though the excesses of the previous night, combined with Catherine’s vigorous treatment, had miraculously relieved Nicolas of his aches and pains. He restricted himself, however, to his usual chocolate, resisting Semacgus and Bourdeau’s tempting offers. They remained fervent believers in a glass of dry white wine as the best way to clear your head the morning after a supper washed down with too much wine. The carriage was still there, the coachman having slept on the hay in the shed after being copiously plied with food and drink by the welcoming Awa.

  The morning was sharp and clear, and the sun accompanied Nicolas on his journey to Versailles. Would this trip prove as eventful as the previous one? Would he uncover new evidence to further his investigation? After a while he remembered that he had not questioned Bourdeau about his ramblings of the previous evening. Hadn’t he said something about the Minister of Bavaria’s coachman?

  Now the vital thing was to gain access to Madame Adélaïde’s apartments to find the person who was to give him the details of the stolen jewels. Nicolas had often observed that the aristocracy had total contempt for detail and practical matters. On issuing an order or an instruction, they simply left you to carry it out without offering any helpful information about how it should be done. He could of course call on Monsieur de La Borde but he felt a certain reticence at having to turn to him yet again. Perhaps he could prevail on the kindness of the quick-witted royal page, who seemed to know everyone and everything, to direct him to Madame’s apartments.

  On the road to Paris, with its fine view of the palace, Nicolas suddenly decided to take a quick look at Mademoiselle de Sauveté’s house. While the visit would also allow him to stretch his legs, dropping in unannounced could sometimes produce unexpected results. He made the cab stop and strolled casually up to the house, where he was immediately spotted by the old woman who had spoken to him four days earlier. He had not believed her then, but in fact she did seem to be permanently on the lookout. He smiled, thinking that it was a harmless enough activity.

  Her small blue eyes regarded him kindly.

  ‘I knew it! I knew it! You want to know more about the lady, admit it … But she’s not at home. I’m sure this time; we saw her leaving.’

  Nicolas felt that there was no point in disguising his interest.

  ‘When did she leave?’

  ‘Yesterday afternoon, at about two o’clock.’

  ‘Perhaps she went for a walk?’

  ‘She hasn’t been back since.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She gave him a withering look. ‘Do you think we’re so unobservant we wouldn’t notice her?’

  ‘No, I don’t think that, but on Saturday you told me several times that you hadn’t seen her go out.’

  Disgruntled she went back into her garden, and slammed the gate in his face. Nicolas felt that he would never have such a good opportunity again. The gate to Mademoiselle de Sauveté’s house was not fastened, only pushed to. He walked through the sorry-looking garden. The large French window was closed and its inside shutters drawn. He continued right round the house. At the back a worm-eaten door seemed suitable for his purposes. He took his little picklock out of his pocket and his skill soon enabled him to free the lock. He gave the door a gentle push with his shoulder and it creaked open, bringing a thick cobweb down on his head. He shook himself, shuddering. It must have been a long time since the entrance had been used.

  The pantry also seemed abandoned: loose floor tiles wobbled as he walked on them and the dirty windows barely let in the daylight. He came to a corridor. The rest of the house was in a similarly desolate state. He went into the drawing room where he had questioned the Vicomte de Ruissec’s betrothed. The cupboards were bare, their musty interiors infested with all sorts of creepy-crawlies. He discovered a bedroom looking slightly more inhabited. The mattress was folded away in the alcove but a coffee pot and a cup had been left on a pedestal table. He examined them. In the wardrobe he found some unbleached sheets, without embroidery or initials. Two singlets were hanging up, faded, outmoded affairs. Three well-made wigs of different shades were poking out of a chest of drawers. He smelt them at length. Then he looked closely at three pairs of shoes, intrigued by their size, and noted down the details in his black notebook. The house had yielded up all it could offer. He put everything back in place, carefully relocked the door and returned to his carriage.

  The old woman reappeared on her doorstep, sneering, and stuck her tongue out at him.

  In the end everything went as planned. It did not take him long to find Gaspard, who seemed to spend all his time keeping a sharp eye on everyone’s comings and goings.

  Thanks to one of his fellow pages, Gaspard had ready access to Madame Adélaïde’s apartments, near the King’s. After having Nicolas wait in the Marble Courtyard, he came to take him to a small room lit by a round window, overlooking the reception rooms. A man of indeterminate age, dressed in black, awaited. He introduced himself as the princess’s intendant and showed no surprise that the policeman was so young. It was clear that Madame Adélaïde had told him what Nicolas required and had instructed him to answer any questions about the stolen jewels. The official did not look directly at Nicolas, instead observing him obliquely in a mirror.

  ‘Sir,’ Nicolas began, ‘Her Royal Highness will have told you that I urgently need information in order to complete the investigation she has charged me with.’

  Without answering, the man took out of his pocket two folded sheets of paper tied with a pale blue ribbon and handed them to him. Nicolas glanced at them; it was the list of the stolen jewels. They were described down to the smallest detail, and beside each description was a small painted sketch. He immediately recognised the ring with the fleur-de-lis in its setting of turquoises. The intendant was wringing his hands and looking embarrassed. Nicolas had the feeling he would have liked to tell him something but could not bring himself to do so. He decided to be direct.

  ‘Is there anything you wish to add? I have the impression that you are hiding something.’

  The man looked at him distractedly. He opened his mouth several times before replying.

  ‘Sir, I do have something to tell you in confidence. But please understand that I was unable to do so before. However much the princess trusts me I would never wish to overstep the mark. One must know one’s place. But neither do I want to conceal a fact that may bear on your investigation, Commissioner.’

  Nicolas gestured for him to continue.

  ‘Sir, I have a suspect in mind – someone who has access to Madame’s Household and could have committed these thefts …’

  ‘Who is it, sir?’

  ‘I am truly reluctant to name him. But the secret will be safe with you and you will doubtless know the right thing to do. He is a Life Guard, one Truche de La Chaux. Our good mistress, always so kind-hearted, has taken him under her wing; he is a young man without family or connections.’

  ‘Is there something particular about him that justifies the princess’s interest in him?’

  ‘Mon
sieur de La Chaux used to be a follower of the so-called reformed religion – he has since converted. Madame likes converts. You know how devout she is. She interprets the renunciation of religious error as a sign of God’s handiwork. Now the man comes and goes at will in her apartments at all hours of the day.’

  ‘And you don’t think he’s trustworthy?’

  ‘I have thought long and hard about the possible culprits but I have gradually eliminated them; he is the only one left who could have committed such a crime.’

  ‘And did you tell anyone your theory?’

  ‘Unfortunately yes, sir. I told Monsieur le Comte de Ruissec, gentleman-in-waiting to the princess, in confidence. He assured me that he would oversee the investigation and that justice would be meted out swiftly if the Life Guard were found guilty.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘Well, sir, the extraordinary thing is that he never mentioned the matter again. So I took it upon myself to bring it up and was given short shrift. I was told that the theft was nothing to do with me, that the princess was no longer to be pestered about it and that it would be resolved privately. Lastly he told me not to make false accusations against Her Royal Highness’s servants: my suspicion was unfounded and Monsieur de La Chaux had nothing to do with the disappearance of the jewels.’

  ‘So was the matter resolved, in your opinion?’

  ‘I might have believed so had I not since observed a strange collusion between the Comte de Ruissec and Monsieur Truche de La Chaux. From then on they were frequently engaged in lengthy conversations, whereas previously they never spoke to each other. The Comte de Ruissec, a very grand nobleman, would not normally deign so much as to look at the Life Guard. I began to suspect a sort of complicity between the two men. I don’t want to say any more but that was my overwhelming impression.’

  ‘Sir, I am immensely grateful to you for having confided this to me. Have you noticed anything else out of the ordinary?’

  ‘Indeed I have, sir. On several occasions a young messenger, a deaf-and-dumb boy, carried messages to or from Monsieur de Ruissec. I followed the child once and saw him enter the great park, only to disappear.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘I even thought I recognised the name on one of these missives … Monsieur Truche de La Chaux.’

  ‘Sir, I must congratulate you on the relevance and precision of your observations. They will no doubt be extremely useful and perhaps even decisive for my investigation. Reassure the princess. I believe I will soon have found her jewels.’

  As he bade Nicolas farewell, the intendant at last looked him in the eye. He seemed relieved and, bowing frequently, led him back to the Marble Courtyard, where Gaspard was whistling as he waited for Nicolas. The day had certainly been full of surprises: the illusive Mademoiselle de Sauveté pretending to live in what was actually a run-down house, and now mysterious connections between the Comte de Ruissec and Truche de La Chaux. Lastly, by an accident that Nicolas ascribed either to the hand of providence or his own good fortune, the person linking Truche, Ruissec and other mysterious figures had turned out to be the deaf-and-dumb boy he had saved from drowning in the murky waters of the Grand Canal.

  As Gaspard looked on in bewilderment at his apparent incoherence, Nicolas began mumbling through his clues. He suddenly remembered Madame Adélaïde’s ring, which he could feel in his pocket next to his watch. What was Monsieur de Ruissec up to? Clearly he had rescued Truche de La Chaux from a very tricky situation. Nicolas was well placed to judge the Life Guard’s real character and to confirm that he had acted suspiciously. There was no doubt about his dishonesty. So how could he have convinced the Comte de Ruissec of his innocence? Or rather, for what particular reason had the comte not denounced him, preferring to use his influence to protect him?

  Nicolas pictured Monsieur de Noblecourt’s wrinkled, mischievous face and his reference to ‘the queen on both sides’. He suddenly remembered how their conversation had continued: Madame de Pompadour could also be described as ‘queen’. Everything revolved around Madame Adélaïde’s stolen ring. The King’s favourite, like the Comte de Ruissec, knew Truche de La Chaux. His presence at Choisy was no accident. Nicolas was more and more convinced of that. Besides, the Life Guard had made no secret of having been at La Pompadour’s chateau the day the vicomte was murdered, and had even boasted about it. This was his way of implying that the favourite could, if necessary, vouch for his presence at Choisy. So, Nicolas thought, the only way of piecing together the puzzle was to find out more about the relationship between Madame de Pompadour and Truche de La Chaux …

  Gaspard was patiently waiting for Nicolas to finish his train of thought. Then, as no instruction was forthcoming, he asked if his services were still required. Nicolas replied that for the moment what he most wanted was to see Monsieur de La Borde to request his help. Nothing could be simpler, the page told him. The First Groom was to be on duty the following day, so at this very moment he would be in his rooms, having gone to bed very late, or rather very early. Gaspard winked as he said this. Respect was not the scamp’s strong point, but that was one of his charms and a small price to pay for his loyalty.

  Monsieur de La Borde welcomed Nicolas warmly. He immediately dressed, asked Nicolas to wait for him and disappeared, preceded by Gaspard. He returned quite quickly to report that, wishing to take advantage of the beautiful weather, the marquise had gone for a walk in the park’s maze. She would see Nicolas there and La Borde would arrange to have him taken to her immediately. It was not very far away and could be reached by going back to the palace terrace in front of the gardens, crossing the Southern Parterre in the direction of the orangery and turning off to the right.

  Nicolas had never been to the labyrinth before and was struck by its strange beauty. Two statues representing Aesop and Cupid stood opposite each other on pedestals of coloured stones and shells. An enormous fountain topped by a latticework dome on pillars depicted a lifelike representation of a multitude of flying birds. The lead figurines were decorated in authentic colours, and the statue of a fierce-looking eagle-owl dominated the ornamentation.

  A valet in the favourite’s livery awaited him. He pompously explained that the labyrinth, designed by Le Nôtre, contained thirty-nine fountains on animal themes, all inspired by Aesop’s Fables interpreted by La Fontaine. He told him to go past the Partridge and the Cocks, the Hen and the Chicks; he would eventually come to one of the openings of the maze. He was to meet Madame de Pompadour by the central basin.

  When he arrived he did indeed see a woman standing there motionless. She had her back to him. She seemed to be wearing something enormously thick but then fashions did favour an exaggeratedly crumpled and untidy look. Nicolas felt that this did not flatter the female figure. The aim seemed to be to demonstrate how many bits and pieces could be used in the making of a single garment The size of the panniers added to the general overblown impression. He had a momentary doubt that this was the Marquise de Pompadour, but on hearing his footsteps on the gravel, she turned and he recognised her. Beneath her dark green satin cape she wore a bottle-green bodice embroidered with silver thread, trimmed with chenille and the looped bows that the favourite had made fashionable. Embroidered silk florets stunningly set off the whole. A light muslin veil discreetly protected the marquise’s face.

  ‘I see, Monsieur Le Floch, that you have wasted no time in following my advice. You wished to speak to me and here I am.’

  ‘Madame, forgive this intrusion. I wish that I could have spared you, but I have reached a stage in my investigation that requires me to account to you.’

  ‘You mean to inform me …’

  ‘I have made some progress, Madame. A solution is in sight, but I still need to order the details into a coherent whole, rather like those children’s games of patience where each card represents a part of a map.’

  She lifted her veil. Her eyes were strangely cold, with no flicker of benevolence. She looked tired.

  ‘I have no doubt that you will succeed, ho
wever hard it is. You bring to the task the methodical approach you have previously demonstrated and I find this very reassuring.’

  There was no real feeling behind these words. Nicolas took Madame Adélaïde’s ring out of his pocket and handed it to the marquise. She gazed at it without taking it.

  ‘A handsome item.’ As Nicolas said nothing she continued more quickly, ‘Why are you showing it to me? Are you offering it for sale? I do not wear rings.’

  ‘No, Madame. I would like to ask you a question.’

  She pulled down her veil again and walked away a little, looking exasperated.

  ‘Madame, I must insist. Forgive my audacity. Have you seen this ring before?’

  She appeared to reflect a moment, then imperceptibly relaxed and began to laugh.

  ‘You are a redoubtable adversary, Monsieur Le Floch. When one sets you a task, there is no point in hoping that something might slip past you.’

  ‘I am at your service, Madame, and that of the King.’

  ‘Well, as I have no choice but to come clean, I admit that I do know this jewel. It comes from the King’s collection. He showed it to me several years ago, when he made a gift of it to his eldest daughter.’

  ‘Is that all, Madame?’

  Her foot, beneath her voluminous gown, crunched the gravel.

  ‘What more could there be, sir?’

  ‘That’s what I am trying to find out, Madame. Might you have seen the jewel again since His Majesty showed it to you?’

  She was unable to conceal her impatience. ‘You are starting to annoy me, Monsieur Le Floch. Are you trying to read my thoughts?’

  ‘No, Madame, I am striving to prevent a dishonest man compromising you, as indeed he has already begun to do. At the moment I am the only one to have seen through him.’