The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 1 of 6

"Yes, let us talk of business; but do not speak against my 'larding-pin;' it makes no noise, and does not disturb anybody."

"And does its work as should be; doesn't it, fourline?" added the old beldam.

"By the way," said Rodolph to the Chouette, "do you really know the Goualeuse's parents?"

"My man has in his pocket two letters about it, but she shall never see them, – the little slut! I would rather tear her eyes out with my own hands. Oh, when I meet her again at the tapis-franc, won't I pay her off – "

"There, that'll do, Finette; we have other things to talk of, and so leave off your gossip."

"May we 'patter' before the 'mot?'" asked Rodolph.

"Most decidedly! She's true as steel, and is worth her weight in gold to watch for us, to get information or impressions of keys, to conceal stolen goods or sell them, – nothing comes amiss to her. She is a first-rate manager. Good Finette!" added the robber, extending his hand to the horrid hag. "You can have no idea of the services she has done me. Take off your shawl, Finette, or you'll be cold when you go out; put it on the chair with your basket."

The Chouette took off her shawl.

In spite of his presence of mind, and the command which he had over himself, Rodolph could not quite conceal his surprise when he saw suspended by a ring of silver, from a thick chain of metal which hung round the old creature's neck, a small Saint Esprit in lapis lazuli, precisely resembling that which the son of Madame Georges had round his neck when he was carried off.

At this discovery, a sudden idea flashed across the mind of Rodolph. According to the Chourineur's statement, the Schoolmaster had escaped from the Bagne six months ago, and had since defied all search after him by disfiguring himself as he had now; and six months ago the husband of Madame Georges had disappeared from the Bagne. Rodolph surmised that, very possibly, the Schoolmaster was the husband of that unhappy lady. If this were so, he knew the fate of the son she lamented, – he possessed, too, some papers relative to the birth of the Goualeuse. Rodolph had, then, fresh motives for persevering in his projects, and, fortunately, his absence of mind was not observed by the Schoolmaster, who was busy helping the Chouette.

"Morbleu! What a pretty chain you have!" said Rodolph to the one-eyed woman.

"Pretty, and not dear," answered the old creature, laughing. "It is only a sham till my man can afford to give me a real one."

"That will depend on this gentleman, Finette. If our job comes off well, why then – "

"It is astonishing how well it is imitated," continued Rodolph. "And what is that little blue thing at the end?"

"It is a present from my man, which I shall wear until he gives me a 'ticker.' Isn't it, fourline?"

Rodolph's suspicions were thus half confirmed, and he waited with anxiety for the reply of the Schoolmaster, who said:

"You must take care of that, notwithstanding the 'ticker,' Finette; it is a talisman, and brings good luck."

"A talisman!" said Rodolph, in a careless tone; "do you believe in talismans? And where the devil did you pick it up? Give me the address of the shop."

"They do not make them now; the shop is shut up. As you see it, that bit of jewelry has a very great antiquity, – three generations. I value it highly, for it is a family loom," added he, with a hideous grin; "and that's why I gave it to Finette, that she might have good fortune in the enterprises in which she so skilfully seconds me. Only see her at work! only see her! If we go into 'business' together, why – But let us now to our affair in hand. You say that in the Allée des Veuves – "

"At No. 17 there is a house inhabited by a rich man, whose name is – "

"I will not be guilty of the indiscretion of asking his name. You say there are sixty thousand francs in gold in a cabinet?"

"Sixty thousand francs in gold!" exclaimed the Chouette.

Rodolph nodded his head in the affirmative.

"And you know this house, and the people in it?" said the Schoolmaster.

"Quite well."

"Is the entry difficult?"

"A wall seven feet high on the side of the Allée des Veuves, a garden, windows down to the ground, and the house has only the ground floor throughout."

"And there is only the porter to guard this treasure?"

"Yes."

"And what, young man, is your proposed plan of proceeding?"

"Simple enough: to climb over the wall, pick the lock of the door, or force open a shutter or lock. What do you think of it?"

"I cannot answer you before I have examined it all myself, – that is, by the aid of my wife; but, if all you tell me is as you say, I think it would be the thing to do it at once this evening."

And the ruffian looked earnestly at Rodolph.

"This evening! – impossible!" replied he.

"Why, since the occupier does not return until the day after to-morrow?"

"Yes, but I – I cannot this evening – "

"Really? Well, and I – I cannot to-morrow."

"Why not?"

"For the reason that prevents you this evening," said the robber, in a tone of mockery.

After a moment's reflection, Rodolph replied:

"Well, then, this evening be it. Where shall we meet?"

"We will not separate," said the Schoolmaster.

"Why not?"

"Why should we?"

"What is the use of separating? The weather has cleared up, and we will go and walk about, and give a look at the Allée des Veuves; you will see how my woman will work. When that is done, we will return and play a hand at piquet, and have a bit of something in a place in the Champs Elysées that I know, near the river; and, as the Allée des Veuves is deserted at an early hour, we will walk that way about ten o'clock."

"I will join you at nine o'clock."

"Do you or do you not wish that we should do this job together?"

"I do wish it."

"Well, then, we do not separate before evening, or else – "

"Or else?"

"I shall think that you are making 'a plant' for me, and that's the reason you wish to part company now."

"If I wished to set the 'traps' after you, what is to prevent my doing so this evening?"

"Why, everything. You did not expect that I should propose the affair to you so soon, and if you do not leave us you cannot put anybody up to it."

"You mistrust me, then?"

"Most extremely. But as what you propose may be quite true and honest, and the half of sixty thousand francs is worth a risk, I am willing to try for it; but this evening, or never; if never, I shall have my suspicions of you confirmed, and one day or other I will take care and let you dine off a dish of my cooking."

"And I will return your compliment, rely on it."

"Oh, this is all stuff and nonsense!" said the Chouette. "I think with fourline, to-night or never."

Rodolph was in a state of extreme anxiety; if he allowed this opportunity to escape of laying hands on the Schoolmaster, he might never again light on him. The ruffian would ever afterwards be on his guard, or if recognised, apprehended, and taken back to the Bagne, would carry with him that secret which Rodolph had so much interest in discovering. Confiding in his address and courage, and trusting to chance, he said to the Schoolmaster:

"Agreed, then; and we will not part company before evening."

"Then I'm your man. It is now two o'clock; it is some distance from here to the Allée des Veuves; it is raining again in torrents; let us pay the reckoning and take a coach."

"If we have a coach, I should like first to smoke a cigar."

"Why not?" said the Schoolmaster. "Finette does not mind the smell of tobacco."

"Well, then, I'll go and fetch some cigars," said Rodolph, rising.

"Pray don't give yourself that trouble," said the Schoolmaster, stopping him; "Finette will go."

Rodolph resumed his seat. The Schoolmaster had penetrated his design. The Chouette went out.

"What a clever manager I have, haven't I?" said the ruffian; "and so tractable, she would throw herself into the fire for me."

"Apropos of fire, it is not overwarm here," replied Rodolph, placing both his hands under his blouse; and then, continuing his conversation with the Schoolmaster, he took out a lead-pencil and a morsel of paper, which he had in his waistcoat pocket, without being detected, and wrote some words hastily, taking care to make his letters wide apart, so that they might be more legible; for he wrote under his blouse, and without seeing what he wrote.

This note escaped the penetration of the Schoolmaster; the next thing was to enable it to reach its address.

Rodolph rose and went listlessly towards the window, and began to hum a tune between his teeth, accompanying himself on the window glasses.

The Schoolmaster came up to the window and said to Rodolph:

"What tune are you playing?"

"I am playing 'Tu n'auras pas ma rose.'"

"And a very pretty tune it is. I should like to know if it would have the effect of making any of the passers-by turn round?"

"I had no such intention."

"You are wrong, young man; for you are playing the tambourine on that pane of glass with all your might. But I was thinking, the porter of this house in the Allée des Veuves is perhaps a stout fellow; if he resists, you have only your pistol, which is a noisy weapon, whilst a tool like this (and he showed Rodolph the handle of his poniard) makes no noise, and does not disturb anybody."

"Do you mean, then, to assassinate him?" exclaimed Rodolph. "If you have any such intention, let us give up the job altogether; I will have no hand in it, – so don't rely on me – "

"But if he wakes?"

"We will take to our heels."

"Well, just as you like; only it is better to come to a clear understanding beforehand. So, then, ours is simply a mere robbery with forcible entry – "

"Nothing more."

"That's very silly and contemptible; but so be it."

"And as I will not leave you for a second," thought Rodolph, "I will prevent you from shedding blood."

CHAPTER XIII

PREPARATIONS

The Chouette returned to the room, bringing the cigars with her.

"I don't think it rains now," said Rodolph, lighting his cigar. "Suppose we go and fetch the coach ourselves, – it will stretch our legs."

"What! not rain!" replied the Schoolmaster; "are you blind? Do you think I will expose Finette to the chance of catching cold, and exposing her precious life, and spoiling her new shawl?"

"You are right, old fellow; it rains cats and dogs. Let the servant come and we can pay him, and desire him to fetch us a coach," replied Rodolph.

"That's the most sensible thing you have said yet, young fellow; we may go and look about as we seek the Allée des Veuves."

The servant entered, and Rodolph gave her five francs.

"Ah, sir, it is really an imposition, – I cannot allow it," exclaimed the Schoolmaster.

"Oh, all right; your turn next time."

"Be it so, but on condition that I shall offer you something, by and by, in a little cabaret in the Champs Elysées, – a capital little snuggery that I know of."

"Just as you like."

The servant paid, and they left the room.

Rodolph wished to go last, out of politeness to the Chouette, but the Schoolmaster would not allow it, and followed close on his heels, watching his every movement.

The master of the house kept a wine-shop also, and amongst other drinkers, a charcoal-man, with his face blackened and his large hat flapping over his eyes, was paying his "shot" at the bar when these three personages appeared. In spite of the close lookout of the Schoolmaster and the one-eyed hag, Rodolph, who walked before the hideous pair, exchanged a rapid and unperceived glance with Murphy as he got into the hackney-coach.

"Which way am I to go, master?" asked the driver.

Rodolph replied, in a loud voice:

"Allée des – "

"Des Acacias, in the Bois de Boulogne," cried the Schoolmaster, interrupting him. Then he added, "And we will pay you well, coachman."

The door was shut.

"What the devil made you bawl out which way we were going before these people?" said the Schoolmaster. "If the thing were found out to-morrow, we might be traced and discovered. Young man, – young man, you are very imprudent!"

The coach was already in motion. Rodolph answered:

"True; I did not think of that. But with my cigar I shall smoke you like herrings; let us have a window open."

And, joining the action to the words, Rodolph, with much dexterity, let fall outside the window the morsel of paper, folded very small, on which he had hastily written a few words in pencil under his blouse. The Schoolmaster's glance was so quick, that, in spite of the calmness of Rodolph's features, the ruffian detected some expression of triumph, for, putting his head out of the window, he called out to the driver:

"Whip behind! whip behind! there is some one getting up at the back of the coach!"

The coach stopped, and the driver, standing on his seat, looked back, and said:

"No, master, there is no one there."

"Parbleu! I will look myself," replied the Schoolmaster, jumping out into the street.

Not seeing any person or anything (for since Rodolph had dropped the paper the coach had gone on several yards), the Schoolmaster thought he was mistaken.

"You will laugh at me," he said, as he resumed his seat, "but I don't know why I thought some one was following us."

The coach at this moment turned round a corner, and Murphy, who had not lost sight of it with his eyes, and had seen Rodolph's manœuvre, ran and picked up the little note, which had fallen into a crevice between two of the paving-stones.

At the end of a quarter of an hour the Schoolmaster said to the driver of the hackney-coach:

"My man, we have changed our minds; drive to the Place de la Madelaine."

Rodolph looked at him with astonishment.

"All right, young man; from hence we may go to a thousand different places. If they seek to track us hereafter, the deposition of the coachman will not be of the slightest service to them."

At the moment when the coach was approaching the barrier, a tall man, clothed in a long white riding-coat, with his hat drawn over his eyes, and whose complexion appeared of a deep brown, passed rapidly along the road, stooping over the neck of a high, splendid hunter, which trotted with extraordinary speed.

"A good horse and a good rider," said Rodolph, leaning forward to the door of the coach and following Murphy (for it was he) with his eyes. "What a pace that stout man goes! Did you see him?"

"Ma foi! he passed so very quickly," said the Schoolmaster, "that I did not remark him."

Rodolph calmly concealed his satisfaction; Murphy had, doubtless, deciphered the almost hieroglyphic characters of the note which he had dropped, and which had escaped the vigilance of the Schoolmaster. Certain that the coach was not followed, he had become more assured, and desirous of imitating the Chouette, who slept, or rather pretended to sleep, he said to Rodolph:

"Excuse me, young man, but the motion of the coach always produces a singular effect on me, – it sends me off to sleep like a child."

The ruffian, under the guise of assumed sleep, thought to examine whether the physiognomy of his companion betrayed any emotion; but Rodolph was on his guard, and replied:

"I rose so early that I feel sleepy, and will have a nap, too."

He shut his eyes, and very soon the hard breathing of the Schoolmaster and the Chouette, who snored in chorus, so completely deceived Rodolph, that, thinking his companions sound asleep, he half opened his eyes. The Schoolmaster and the Chouette, in spite of their loud snoring, had their eyes open, and were exchanging some mysterious signs by means of their fingers curiously placed or bent in the palms of their hands. In an instant this mute language ceased. The brigand no doubt perceived, by some almost imperceptible sign, that Rodolph was not asleep, and said, in a laughing tone:

"Ah, ah, comrade! what, you were trying your friends, were you?"

"That can't astonish you, who sleep with your eyes open."

"I, who – That's different, young man; I am a somnambulist."

The hackney-coach stopped in the Place de la Madelaine. The rain had ceased for a moment, but the clouds, driven by the violence of the wind, were so dark and so low, that it was almost night in appearance. Rodolph, the Chouette, and the Schoolmaster went towards the Cours la Reine.

"Young man, I have an idea, which is not a bad one," said the robber.

"What is it?"

"To ascertain if all that you have told us respecting the interior of the house in the Allée des Veuves is true."

"You surely will not go there now, under any circumstances? It would awaken suspicion."

"I am not such a flat as that, young fellow; but why have I a wife whose name is Finette?"

The Chouette drew up her head.

"Do you see her, young man? Why, she looks like a war-horse when he hears the blast of the trumpet!"

"You mean to send her as a lookout?"

"Precisely so."

"No. 17, Allée des Veuves, isn't it, my man?" cried the Chouette, impatiently. "Make yourself easy: I have but one eye, but that is a good one."

"Do you see, young man, – do you see she is all impatience to be at work?"

"If she manages cleverly to get into the house, I do not think your idea a bad one."

"Take the umbrella, fourline; in half an hour I will be here again, and you shall see what I will do," said the Chouette.

"One moment, Finette; we are going down to the Bleeding Heart, – only two steps from here. If the little Tortillard (cripple) is there, you had better take him with you; he will remain outside on the watch whilst you go inside the house."

"You are right, – little Tortillard is as cunning as a fox; he is not ten years of age, and yet it was he who the other day – "

A signal from the Schoolmaster interrupted the Chouette.

"What does the 'Bleeding Heart' mean? It is an odd sign for a cabaret," asked Rodolph.

"You must complain to the landlord."

"What is his name?"

"The landlord of the Bleeding Heart?"

"Yes."

"What is that to you? He never asks the names of his customers."

"But, still – "

"Call him what you like, – Peter, Thomas, Christopher, or Barnabas, – he will answer to any and all. But here we are, and it's time we were, for the rain is coming down again in floods; and how the river roars! It has almost become a torrent! Why, look at it! Two more days of such rain, and the water will overflow the arches of the bridge."

"You say that we are there, but where the devil is the cabaret? I do not see any house here."

"Certainly not, if you look round about you."

"Where should I look, then?"

"At your feet."

"At my feet?"

"Yes."

"And whereabouts?"

"Here, – look; do you see the roof? Mind, and don't step upon it."

Rodolph had not remarked one of those subterraneans which used to be seen, some years since, in certain spots in the Champs Elysées, and particularly near the Cours la Reine.

A flight of steps, cut out of the damp and greasy ground, led to the bottom of this sort of deep ditch, against one end of which, cut perpendicularly, leaned a low, mean, dilapidated hovel; its roof, covered with moss-covered tiles, was scarcely so high as the ground on which Rodolph was standing; two or three out-buildings, constructed of worm-eaten planks, serving as cellar, wood-house, and rabbit-hutches, surrounded this wretched den.

A narrow path, which extended along this ditch, led from the stairs to the door of the hut; the rest of the ground was concealed under a mass of trellis-work, which sheltered two rows of clumsy tables, fastened to the ground. A worn-out iron sign swung heavily backwards and forwards on its creaking hinges, and through the rust that covered it might still be seen a red heart pierced with an arrow. The sign was supported by a post erected above this cave, – this real human burrow.

A thick and moist fog was added to the rain as night approached.

"What think you of this hôtel, young fellow?" inquired the Schoolmaster.

"Why, thanks to the torrents that have fallen for the last fortnight, it must be deliciously fresh. But come on."

"One moment, – I wish to know if the landlord is in. Hark!"

The ruffian then, thrusting his tongue forcibly against his palate, produced a singular noise, – a sort of guttural sound, loud and lengthened, something like P-r-r-r-r-r-r-r!!! A similar note came from the depths of the hovel.

"He's there," said the Schoolmaster. "Pardon me, young man, – respect to the ladies, – allow the Chouette to pass first; I follow you. Mind how you come, – it's slippery."

CHAPTER XIV

THE BLEEDING HEART

The landlord of the Bleeding Heart, after having responded to the signal of the Schoolmaster, advanced politely to the threshold of his door.

This personage, whom Rodolph had been to see in the Cité, and whom he did not yet know under his true name, or, rather, his habitual surname, was Bras Rouge.

Lank, mean-looking, and feeble, this man might be fifty years of age. His countenance resembled both the weasel and the rat; his peaked nose, his receding chin, his high cheek-bones, his small eyes, black, restless, and keen, gave his features an indescribable expression of malice, cunning, and sagacity. An old brown wig, or, rather, as yellow as his bilious complexion, perched on the top of his head, showed the nape of the old fellow's withered neck. He had on a round jacket, and one of those long black aprons worn by the waiters at the wine shops.

Our three acquaintances had hardly descended the last step of the staircase when a child of about ten years of age, rickety, lame, and somewhat misshapen, came to rejoin Bras Rouge, whom he resembled in so striking a manner that there was no mistaking them for father and son. There was the same quick and cunning look, joined to that impudent, hardened, and knavish air, which is peculiar to the scamp (voyou) of Paris, – that fearful type of precocious depravity, that real 'hemp-seed' (graine de bagne), as they style it, in the horrible slang of the gaol. The forehead of the brat was half lost beneath a thatch of yellowish locks, as harsh and stiff as horse-hair. Reddish-coloured trousers and a gray blouse, confined by a leather girdle, completed Tortillard's costume, whose nickname was derived from his infirmity. He stood close to his father, standing on his sound leg like a heron by the side of a marsh.

"Ah, here is the darling one (môme)!" said the Schoolmaster. "Finette, night is coming on, and time is pressing; we must profit by the daylight which is left to us."

"You are right, my man; I will ask the father to spare his darling."

"Good day, old friend," said Bras Rouge, addressing the Schoolmaster, in a voice which was cracked, sharp, and shrill. "What can I do for you?"

"Why, if you could spare your 'small boy' to my mistress for a quarter of an hour, she has lost something which he could help her to look for."

Bras Rouge winked his eye and made a sign to the Schoolmaster, and then said to the child:

"Tortillard, go with madame."

The hideous brat hopped forward and took hold of the "one-eyed's" hand.

"Love of a bright boy, come along! There is a child!" said Finette. "And how like his father! He is not like Pegriotte, who always pretended to have a pain in her side when she came near me, – a little baggage!"

"Come, come away! – be off, Finette! Keep your weather-eye open, and bright lookout. I await you here."

"I won't be long. Go first, Tortillard."

The one-eyed hag and the little cripple went up the slippery steps.

"Finette, take the umbrella," the brigand called out.

"It would be in the way, my man," said the old woman, who quickly disappeared with Tortillard in the midst of the fog, which thickened with the twilight, and the hollow murmur of the wind as it moaned through the thick and leafless branches of the tall elms in the Champs Elysées.

"Let us go in," said Rodolph.

It was requisite to stoop in passing in at the door of the cabaret, which was divided into two apartments. In one was a bar and a broken-down billiard-table; in the other, tables and garden chairs, which had once been painted green. Two narrow windows, with their cracked panes festooned with spiders' webs, cast a dim but not religious light on the damp walls.