The Cavalier of the Apocalypse

by Susanne Alleyn

19

  "Well?" Brasseur said, once they were safely away from the Bastille and jolting westward in another fiacre along Rue St. Antoine. "I don't know that anything he said brought us one step closer to learning who murdered Saint-Landry. Do you?"

  "He was more forthright with us than I'd expected," said Aristide thoughtfully. "In his position, would you have admitted to someone you'd never met before that you didn't give a damn about the monarchy's reputation? Something about us caused him to trust us, at least a little."

  "Perhaps he's read some pamphlet of yours," Brasseur suggested.

  "You don't think I put my name to those, do you? Anyway, I didn't give him my real name."

  "That's right, you called yourself Joubert-"

  "Joubert!" Aristide exclaimed.

  "Who's Joubert, then?"

  "My-a publisher. Keeps a bookshop at the Palais-Royal."

  "I thought it sounded familiar," Brasseur said, nodding.

  "Derville's friendly with him; that's how I met him. And-just keep it under your hat, will you?-Joubert, like most publishers, puts out a line in illegal books, mostly political, but Derville told me he turns out more than most. Who's to say that he's not also one of the Sacred Trinity fraternity? For all we know, he prints every screed they distribute. And if he's a member of the lodge, perhaps Cagliostro recognized the name. Joubert may have been hand in glove with Beaupr?au all the time."

  Brasseur thumped on the roof and leaned out the window. "Driver, a change of route: my friend is going to the Palais-Royal before you take me to the Left Bank."