XIX.
M. Folgat was already at work. He had confidence in his cause, afirm conviction of the innocence of his client, a desire to solve themystery, a love of battle, and an intense thirst for success: all thesemotives combined to stimulate the talents of the young advocate, and toincrease his activity.
And, above all this, there was a mysterious and indefinable sentimentwith which Dionysia had inspired him; for he had succumbed to hercharms, like everybody else. It was not love, for he who says love sayshope; and he knew perfectly well that altogether and forever Dionysiabelonged to Jacques. It was a sweet and all-powerful sentiment, whichmade him wish to devote himself to her, and to count for something inher life and in her happiness.
It was for her sake that he had sacrificed all his business, andforgotten his clients, in order to stay at Sauveterre. It was for hersake, above all, that he wished to save Jacques.
He had no sooner arrived at the station, and left the Marchioness deBoiscoran in old Anthony's care, than he jumped into a cab, and hadhimself driven to his house. He had sent a telegram the day before; andhis servant was waiting for him. In less than no time he had changed hisclothes. Immediately he went back to his carriage, and went in searchof the man, who, he thought, was most likely to be able to fathom thismystery.
This was a certain Goudar, who was connected with the police departmentin some capacity or other, and at all events received an income largeenough to make him very comfortable. He was one of those agents forevery thing whom the police keep employed for specially delicateoperations, which require both tact and keen scent, an intrepiditybeyond all doubt, and imperturbable self-possession. M. Folgat had hadopportunities of knowing and appreciating him in the famous case of theMutual Discount Society.
He was instructed to track the cashier who had fled, having a deficitof several millions. Goudar had caught him in Canada, after pursuing himfor three months all over America; but, on the day of his arrest, thiscashier had in his pocket-book and his trunk only some forty thousandfrancs.
What had become of the millions?
When he was questioned, he said he had spent them. He had gambled instocks, he had become unfortunate, etc.
Everybody believed him except Goudar.
Stimulated by the promise of a magnificent reward, he began his campaignonce more; and, in less than six weeks, he had gotten hold of sixteenhundred thousand francs which the cashier had deposited in London with awoman of bad character.
The story is well known; but what is not known is the genius, thefertility of resources, and the ingenuity of expedients, which Goudardisplayed in obtaining such a success. M. Folgat, however, was fullyaware of it; for he had been the counsel of the stockholders of theMutual Discount Society; and he had vowed, that, if ever the opportunityshould come, he would employ this marvellously able man.
Goudar, who was married, and had a child, lived out of the world on theroad to Versailles, not far from the fortifications. He occupied withhis family a small house which he owned,--a veritable philosopher'shome, with a little garden in front, and a vast garden behind, in whichhe raised vegetables and admirable fruit, and where he kept all kinds ofanimals.
When M. Folgat stepped out of his carriage before this pleasant home,a young woman of twenty-five or twenty-six, of surpassing beauty, youngand fresh, was playing in the front garden with a little girl of threeor four years, all milk and roses.
"M. Goudar, madam?" asked M. Folgat, raising his hat.
The young woman blushed slightly, and answered modestly, but withoutembarrassment, and in a most pleasing voice,--
"My husband is in the garden; and you will find him, if you will walkdown this path around the house."
The young man followed the direction, and soon saw his man at adistance. His head covered with an old straw hat, without a coat, andin slippers, with a huge blue apron such as gardeners wear, Goudar hadclimbed up a ladder, and was busy dropping into a horsehair bag themagnificent Chasselas grapes of his trellises. When he heard the sandgrate under the footsteps of the newcomer, he turned his head, and atonce said,--
"Why, M. Folgat? Good morning, sir!"
The young advocate was not a little surprised to see himself recognizedso instantaneously. He should certainly never have recognized thedetective. It was more than three years since they had seen each other;and how often had they seen each other then? Twice, and not an hour eachtime.
It is true that Goudar was one of those men whom nobody remembers. Ofmiddle height, he was neither stout nor thin, neither dark nor lighthaired, neither young nor old. A clerk in a passport office wouldcertainly have written him down thus: Forehead, ordinary; nose,ordinary; mouth, ordinary, eyes, neutral color; special marks, none.
It could not be said that he looked stupid; but neither did helook intelligent. Every thing in him was ordinary, indifferent, andundecided. Not one marked feature. He would necessarily pass unobserved,and be forgotten as soon as he had passed.
"You find me busy securing my crops for the winter," he said to M.Folgat. "A pleasant job. However, I am at your service. Let me put thesethree bunches into their three bags, and I'll come down."
This was the work of an instant; and, as soon as he had reached theground, he turned round, and asked,--
"Well, and what do you think of my garden?"
And at once he begged M. Folgat to visit his domain, and, with allthe enthusiasm of the land-owner, he praised the flavor of his duchesspears, the bright colors of his dahlias, the new arrangements in hispoultry-yard, which was full of rabbit-houses, and the beauty of hispond, with its ducks of all colors and all possible varieties.
In his heart, M. Folgat swore at this enthusiasm. What time he waslosing! But, when you expect a service from a man, you must, at least,flatter his weak side. He did not spare praise, therefore. He evenpulled out his cigar-case, and, still with a view to win the great man'sgood graces, he offered it to him, saying,--
"Can I offer you one?"
"Thanks! I never smoke," replied Goudar.
And, when he saw the astonishment of the advocate, he explained,--
"At least not at home. I am disposed to think the odor is unpleasant tomy wife."
Positively, if M. Folgat had not known the man, he would have taken himfor some good and simple retired grocer, inoffensive, and any thing butbright, and, bowing to him politely, he would have taken his leave.But he had seen him at work; and so he followed him obediently to hisgreenhouse, his melon-house, and his marvellous asparagus-beds.
At last Goudar took his guest to the end of the garden, to a bower inwhich were some chairs and a table, saying,--
"Now let us sit down, and tell me your business; for I know you did notcome solely for the pleasure of seeing my domain."
Goudar was one of those men who have heard in their lives moreconfessions than ten priests, ten lawyers, and ten doctors alltogether. You could tell him every thing. Without a moment's hesitation,therefore, and without a break, M. Folgat told him the whole story ofJacques and the Countess Claudieuse. He listened, without saying a word,without moving a muscle in his face. When the lawyer had finished, hesimply said,--
"Well?"
"First of all," replied M. Folgat, "I should like to hear your opinion.Do you believe the statement made by M. de Boiscoran?"
"Why not? I have seen much stranger cases than that."
"Then you think, that, in spite of the charges brought against him, wemust believe in his innocence?"
"Pardon me, I think nothing at all. Why, you must study a matter beforeyou can have an opinion."
He smiled; and, looking at the young advocate, he said,--
"But why all these preliminaries? What do you want of me?"
"Your assistance to get at the truth."
The detective evidently expected something of the kind. After a minute'sreflection, he looked fixedly at M. Folgat, and said,--
"If I understand you correctly, you would like to begin acounter-investigation for the benefit of the defen
ce?"
"Exactly."
"And unknown to the prosecution?"
"Precisely."
"Well, I cannot possibly serve you."
The young advocate knew too well how such things work not to be preparedfor a certain amount of resistance; and he had thought of means toovercome it.
"That is not your final decision, my dear Goudar?" he said.
"Pardon me. I am not my own master. I have my duty to fulfil, and mydaily occupation."
"You can at any time obtain leave of absence for a month."
"So I might; but they would certainly wonder at such a furlough atheadquarters. They would probably have me watched; and, if they foundout that I was doing police work for private individuals, they wouldscold me grievously, and deprive themselves henceforth of my services."
"Oh!"
"There is no 'oh!' about it. They would do what I tell you, and theywould be right; for, after all, what would become of us, and what wouldbecome of the safety and liberty of us all, if any one could come anduse the agents of the police for his private purposes? And what wouldbecome of me if I should lose my place?"
"M. de Boiscoran's family is very rich, and they would prove theirgratitude magnificently to the man who would save him."
"And if I did not save him? And if, instead of gathering proof of hisinnocence, I should only meet with more evidence of his guilt?"
The objection was so well founded, that M. Folgat preferred not todiscuss it.
"I might," he said, "hand you at once, and as a retainer, a considerablesum, which you could keep, whatever the result might be."
"What sum? A hundred Napoleons? Certainly a hundred Napoleons are not tobe despised; but what would they do for me if I were turned out? I haveto think of somebody else besides myself. I have a wife and a child;and my whole fortune consists in this little cottage, which is not evenentirely paid for. My place is not a gold-mine; but, with the specialrewards which I receive, it brings me, good years and bad years, sevenor eight thousand francs, and I can lay by two or three thousand."
The young lawyer stopped him by a friendly gesture, and said,--
"If I were to offer you ten thousand francs?"
"A year's income."
"If I offered you fifteen thousand!"
Goudar made no reply; but his eyes spoke.
"It is a most interesting case, this case of M. de Boiscoran," continuedM. Folgat, "and such as does not occur often. The man who should exposethe emptiness of the accusation would make a great reputation forhimself."
"Would he make friends also at the bar?"
"I admit he would not."
The detective shook his head.
"Well, I confess," he said, "I do not work for glory, nor from love ofmy art. I know very well that vanity is the great motive-power withsome of my colleagues; but I am more practical. I have never liked myprofession; and, if I continue to practise it, it is because I have notthe money to go into any other. It drives my wife to despair, besides:she is only half alive as long as I am away; and she trembles everymorning for fear I may be brought home with a knife between myshoulders."
M. Folgat had listened attentively; but at the same time he had pulledout a pocket-book, which looked decidedly plethoric, and placed it onthe table.
"With fifteen thousand francs," he said, "a man may do something."
"That is true. There is a piece of land for sale adjoining my garden,which would suit me exactly. Flowers bring a good price in Paris, andthat business would please my wife. Fruit, also yields a good profit."
The advocate knew now that he had caught his man.
"Remember, too, my dear Goudar, that, if you succeed, these fifteenthousand francs would only be a part payment. They might, perhaps,double the sum. M. de Boiscoran is the most liberal of men, and he wouldtake pleasure in royally rewarding the man who should have saved him."
As he spoke, he opened the pocket-book, and drew from it fifteenthousand-franc notes, which he spread out on the table.
"To any one but to you," he went on, "I should hesitate to pay sucha sum in advance. Another man might take the money, and never troublehimself about the affair. But I know your uprightness; and, if you giveme your word in return for the notes, I shall be satisfied. Come, shallit be so?"
The detective was evidently not a little excited; for, self-possessedas he was, he had turned somewhat pale. He hesitated, handled thebank-notes, and then, all of a sudden, said,--
"Wait two minutes."
He got up instantly, and ran towards the house.
"Is he going to consult his wife?" M. Folgat asked himself.
He did so; for the next moment they appeared at the other end of thewalk, engaged in a lively discussion. However, the discussion did notlast long. Goudar came back to the bower, and said,--
"Agreed! I am your man!"
The advocate was delighted, and shook his hand.
"Thank you!" he cried; "for, with your assistance, I am almost sureof success. Unfortunately, we have no time to lose. When can you go towork?"
"This moment. Give me time to change my costume; and I am at yourservice. You will have to give me the keys of the house in Passy."
"I have them here in my pocket."
"Well, then let us go there at once; for I must, first of all,reconnoitre the ground. And you shall see if it takes me long to dress."
In less than fifteen minutes he reappeared in a long overcoat, withgloves on, looking, for all the world, like one of those retiredgrocers who have made a fortune, and settled somewhere outside of thecorporation of Paris, displaying their idleness in broad daylight, andrepenting forever that they have given up their occupation.
"Let us go," he said to the lawyer.
After having bowed to Mrs. Goudar, who accompanied them with a radiantsmile, they got into the carriage, calling out to the driver,--
"Vine Street, Passy, No. 23."
This Vine Street is a curious street, leading nowhere, little known, andso deserted, that the grass grows everywhere. It stretches out long anddreary, is hilly, muddy, scarcely paved, and full of holes, and looksmuch more like a wretched village lane than like a street belongingto Paris. No shops, only a few homes, but on the right and the leftinterminable walls, overtopped by lofty trees.
"Ah! the place is well chosen for mysterious rendezvouses," growledGoudar. "Too well chosen, I dare say; for we shall pick up noinformation here."
The carriage stopped before a small door, in a thick wall, which borethe traces of the two sieges in a number of places.
"Here is No. 23," said the driver; "but I see no house."
It could not be seen from the street; but, when they got in, Mr. Folgatand Goudar saw it, rising in the centre of an immense garden, simple andpretty, with a double porch, a slate roof, and newly-painted blinds.
"Great God!" exclaimed the detective, "what a place for a gardener!"
And M. Folgat felt so keenly the man's ill-concealed desire, that he atonce said,--
"If we save M. de Boiscoran, I am sure he will not keep this house."
"Let us go in," cried the detective, in a voice which revealed all hisintense desire to succeed.
Unfortunately, Jacques de Boiscoran had spoken but too truly, when hesaid that no trace was left of former days. Furniture, carpets, allwas new; and Goudar and M. Folgat in vain explored the four rooms downstairs, and the four rooms up stairs, the basement, where the kitchenwas, and finally the garret.
"We shall find nothing here," declared the detective. "To satisfy myconscience, I shall come and spend an afternoon here; but now we havemore important business. Let us go and see the neighbors!"
There are not many neighbors in Vine Street.
A teacher and a nurseryman, a locksmith and a liveryman, five orsix owners of houses, and the inevitable keeper of a wine-shop andrestaurant, these were the whole population.
"We shall soon make the rounds," said Goudar, after having ordered thecoachman to wait for them at the end of the street.
The locksmith knew that he was called Francis Burnett. He had donesome work for him, for which he had been well paid, and thus he hadfrequently seen him; but it was so long since, that he did not think hewould recognize him.
"We are unlucky," said M. Folgat, after this visit.
The memory of the liveryman was more trustworthy. He said he knew theEnglishman of No. 23 very well, having driven him three or fourtimes; and the description he gave of him answered fully to Jacques deBoiscoran. He also remembered that one evening, when the weather waswretched, Sir Burnett had come himself to order a carriage. It was fora lady, who had got in alone, and who had been driven to the Place de laMadeleine. But it was a dark night; the lady wore a thick veil; he hadnot been able to distinguish her features, and all he could say was thatshe looked above medium height.
"It is always the same story," said Goudar. "But the wine-merchant oughtto be best informed. If I were alone I would breakfast there."
"I shall breakfast with you," said M. Folgat.
They did so, and they did wisely.
The wine-merchant did not know much; but his waiter, who had beenwith him five or six years, knew Sir Burnett, as everybody calledthe Englishman, by sight, and was quite well acquainted with theservant-girl, Suky Wood. While he was bringing in breakfast, he toldthem all he knew.
Suky, he said, was a tall, strapping girl, with hair red enough to sether bonnets on fire, and graceful enough to be mistaken for a heavydragoon in female disguise. He had often had long talks with her whenshe came to fetch some ready-made dish, or to buy some beer, of whichshe was very fond. She told him she was very pleased with her place, asshe got plenty of money, and had, so to say, nothing to do, being leftalone in the house for nine months in the year. From her the waiter hadalso learned that Sir Burnett must have another house, and that he cameto Vine Street only to receive visits from a lady.
This lady troubled Suky very much. She declared she had never been ableto see the end of her nose even, so very cautious was she in all hermovements; but she intended to see her in spite of all.
"And you may be sure she managed to do it some time or other," Goudarwhispered into M. Folgat's ear.
Finally they learned from this waiter, that Suky had been very intimatewith the servant of an old gentleman who lived quite alone in No. 27.
"We must see her," said Goudar.
Luckily the girl's master had just gone out, and she was alone in thehouse. At first she was a little frightened at being called upon andquestioned by two unknown men; but the detective knew how to reassureher very quickly, and, as she was a great talker, she confirmed all thewaiter at the restaurant had told them, and added some details.
Suky had been very intimate with her; she had never hesitated to tellher that Burnett was not an Englishman; that his name was not Burnett,and that he was concealing himself in Vine Street under a false name,for the purpose of meeting there his lady-love, who was a grand, finelady, and marvellously beautiful. Finally, at the outbreak of the war,Suky had told her that she was going back to England to her relations.When they left the old bachelor's house, Goudar said to the youngadvocate,--
"We have obtained but little information, and the jurymen would paylittle attention to it; but there is enough of it to confirm, at leastin part, M. de Boiscoran's statement. We can prove that he met a ladyhere who had the greatest interest in remaining unknown. Was this, as hesays, the Countess Claudieuse? We might find this out from Suky; for shehas seen her, beyond all doubt. Hence we must hunt up Suky. And now, letus take our carriage, and go to headquarters. You can wait for me at thecafe near the Palais de Justice. I shall not be away more than a quarterof an hour."
It took him, however, a good hour and a half; M. Folgat was beginning tobe troubled, when he at last reappeared, looking very well pleased.
"Waiter, a glass of beer!" he said.
And, sitting down so as to face the advocate, he said,--
"I stayed away rather long; but I did not lose any time. In the firstplace, I procured a month's leave of absence; then I put my hand uponthe very man whom I wanted to send after Sir Burnett and Miss Suky.He is a good fellow, called Barousse, fine like a needle, and speaksEnglish like a native. He demands twenty-five francs a day, histravelling-expenses, and a gratuity of fifteen hundred francs if hesucceeds. I have agreed to meet him at six to give him a definiteanswer. If you accept the conditions, he will leave for Englandto-night, well drilled by me."
Instead of any answer, M. Folgat drew from his pocket-book athousand-franc note, and said,--
"Here is something to begin with."
Goudar had finished his beer, and said,--
"Well, then, I must leave you. I am going to hang abut M. de Tassar'shouse, and make my inquiries. Perhaps I may pick up something there.To-morrow I shall spend my day in searching the house in Vine Street andin questioning all the tradesmen on your list. The day after to-morrowI shall probably have finished here. So that in four or five days therewill arrive in Sauveterre a somebody, who will be myself." And as he gotup, he added,--
"For I must save M. de Boiscoran. I will and I must do it. He has toonice a house. Well, we shall see each other at Sauveterre."
It struck four o'clock. M. Folgat left the cafe immediately afterGoudar, and went down the river to University Street. He was anxious tosee the marquis and the marchioness.
"The marchioness is resting," said the valet; "but the marquis is in hiscabinet."
M. Folgat was shown in, and found him still under the effects of theterrible scene he had undergone in the morning. He had said nothing tohis wife that he did not really think; but he was distressed at havingsaid it under such circumstances. And yet he felt a kind of relief; for,to tell the truth, he felt as if the horrible doubts which he had keptsecret so many years had vanished as soon as they were spoken out. Whenhe saw M. Folgat, he asked in a sadly-changed voice,--
"Well?"
The young advocate repeated in detail the account given by themarchioness; but he added what the latter had not been able to mention,because she did not know it, the desperate resolution which Jacques hadformed. At this revelation the marquis looked utterly overcome.
"The unhappy man!" he cried. "And I accused him of--He thought ofkilling himself!"
"And we had a great trouble, M. Magloire, and myself," added M. Folgat,"to overcome his resolution, great trouble to make him understand,that never, under any circumstances, ought an innocent man to think ofcommitting suicide."
A big tear rolled down the furrowed cheek of the old gentleman; and hemurmured,--
"Ah! I have been cruelly unjust. Poor, unhappy child!"
Then he added aloud,--
"But I shall see him. I have determined to accompany the marchioness toSauveterre. When will you leave?"
"Nothing keeps me here in Paris. I have done all that could be done, andI might return this evening. But I am really too tired. I think I shallto-morrow take the train at 10.45."
"If you do so, we shall travel in company; you understand? To-morrowat ten o'clock at the Orleans station. We shall reach Sauveterre bymidnight."
Within an Inch of His Life Page 28
