this was the conclusion of the manuscript handed by mascarin to paul violaine, and the young man laid down the roll of paper with the remark, “and that is all.”
he had consumed six hours in reading this sad account of the follies and crimes of the owners of illustrious names.
mascarin had listened with the complacency of an author who hears his own work read aloud to him, but all the while he was keenly watching him beneath his spectacles and the faces of his companions. the effect that was produced was immense, and exactly what he had anticipated. paul, hortebise, and catenac gazed upon each other with faces in which astonishment at the strange recital, and then at the power of the man who had collected these facts together, were mingled, and catenac was the first who spoke. the sound of his own voice seemed gradually to dispel the vague sense of apprehension that hung about the office.
“aha!” cried he, “i always said that our old friend mascarin would make his mark in literature. as soon as his pen touches the paper the business man vanishes; we have no longer a collection of dry facts and proofs, but the stirring pages of a sensational novel.”
“do you really consider that as a mere romance?” asked hortebise.
“it reads like one certainly; you must allow that.”
“catenac,” remarked mascarin in his bitterly sarcastic tone, “is best able to pronounce upon the truth or falsehood of this narrative, as he is the professional adviser of this same duke de champdoce, the very norbert whose life has just been read to you.”
“i do not deny that there is some slight foundation to it,” returned the lawyer.
“then what is it that you do deny?”
“nothing, nothing; i merely objected, more in jest than otherwise, to the sentimental manner in which you have set forward your case.”
“catenac,” remarked mascarin, addressing the others, “has received many confidential communications from his noble client, which he has not thought fit to communicate to us; and though he fancied that we were drifting into quicksands and among breakers, he displayed no signal of warning to save us from our danger, hoping, like a true friend, that, by this means, he might get rid of us.”
catenac began to utter protestations and denials, but mascarin cut him short with an imperative gesture, and, after a long pause, he again commenced,—
“you must understand that my inquisitors have had but little to do in this affair, for my work has chiefly consisted in putting fragments together. it is not to me that you are indebted for the sensational (i think that that was the term used) part of my story, but rather to madame de mussidan and norbert de champdoce. i am sure that some of the phrases must have struck you considerably.”
“it seems to me,” objected catenac—
“perhaps,” broke in mascarin, “you have forgotten the correspondence which the countess de mussidan preserved so carefully—both his letters and her own, which norbert returned to her.”
“and we have those?”
“of course we have, only there is a perfect romance contained in these letters. what i have read is a mere bald extract from them; and this is not all. the man who assisted me in the unravelling of this dark intrigue was the original promoter—daumon.”
“what, is the counsellor still alive?”
“certainly, and you know him. he is not quite in his first youth, and has aged somewhat, but his intellect is as brilliant as ever.”
catenac grew serious. “you tell me a great deal,” said he.
“i can tell you even more. i can tell you that the account of the deed was written under the dictation of caroline schimmel,” broke in mascarin. “this unlucky woman started for havre, intending to sail for the united states, but she got no further than that seaport town, for the good looks and the persuasive tongue of a sailor induced her to alter her plans. as long as her money lasted he remained an ardent lover, but vanished with the disappearance of her last thousand-franc note. starving and poverty-stricken, caroline returned to paris and to the duke de champdoce, who accepted her constant demands for money as a penitent expiation of his crime. but she remained faithful to her oath; and had it not been for her terrible propensity for drink, tantaine would never have succeeded in extracting her secret from her. if, on her recovery from her fit of drunk coma, she recollects what has taken place, she will, if i read her character right, go straight to the duke de champdoce and tell him that his secret has passed into better hands.”
at this idea being promulgated, catenac started from his chair with a loud oath.
“did you think,” asked mascarin, “that i should feel so much at my ease if i found that there was the slightest risk? let us consider what it is that caroline can say. who is it that she can accuse of having stolen her secret from her? why, only a poor old wretch named tantaine. how can the duke possibly trace any connection between this miserable writer and catenac?”
“yes, i think that it would be a difficult task.”
“besides,” pursued mascarin, “what have we to fear from the duke de champdoce? nothing, as far as i can see. is he not as much in our power as the woman he formerly loved—diana de mussidan? do we not hold the letters of both of them, and do we not know in what corner of his garden to dig to discover a damning piece of evidence? remember that there will be no difficulty in identifying the skeleton, for at the time of his disappearance, croisenois had about him several spanish doubloons, a fact which was given to the police.”
“well,” said catenac, “i will act faithfully. tell me your plans, and i will let you know all that i hear from the duke.”
for a moment a smile hovered upon mascarin’s lips, for this time he placed firm reliance upon the good faith of the lawyer.
“before we go further,” said he, “let me conclude this narrative which paul has just read. it is sad and simple. the united ages of the duke and duchess did not exceed fifty years; they had unlimited wealth, and bore one of the grandest historic names of france; they were surrounded with every appliance of luxury, and yet their lives were a perfect wreck. they simply dragged on an existence and had lost all hopes of happiness, but they made up their minds to conceal the skeleton of their house in the darkest cupboard, and the world knew nothing of their inner life. the duchess suffered much in health, and merely went out to visit the sick and poor. the duke worked hard to make up for the deficiencies of his early education, and made a name and reputation throughout europe.”
“and how about madame de mussidan?” asked catenac.
“i am coming to that,” returned mascarin. “with that strange determination that fills the hearts of our women, she did not consider her revenge complete until norbert learned that she was the sole instrument in heaping the crowning sorrow of his life on his head; and on her return from italy, she sent for him and told him everything. yes, she absolutely had the audacity to tell him that it was she who had done her best to throw his wife into de croisenois’ arms. she told him that it was she who had worked the arrangements for the meeting, and had written the anonymous letter.”
“why did he not kill her?” cried hortebise. “had she not all his letters, and taunted him with the production of them? ah, my dear friends, do not let us flatter ourselves that we have the sole monopoly of blackmailing. the high-born countess plunged her hand into the duke’s coffers just as if she had been a mere adventuress. it is only ten days ago that she borrowed—you will observe the entry of it as a loan—a large sum to settle an account of van klopen’s. but let us now speak of the child who took the place of the boy whom the duchess brought into the world. you know him, doctor?”
“yes, i have often seen him. he was a good-looking young fellow.”
“he was, but he was a degraded scoundrel, after all. he was educated and brought up without regard to expense, but he always displayed low tastes, and, had he lived, would have brought discredit on the name he bore. he was a thorn in the side of the duke and duchess, and i believe that they felt great relief when he died of brain fever, brought on by a drunken debauch. his parents, or those whom he supposed to be such, were present at his death-bed, for they had learned to consider their sorrows as the just chastisement of heaven. the boy having died, the family of champdoce seemed likely to become extinct, and then it was that norbert decided to do what his wife had long urged upon him, to seek for and reclaim the child which he had caused to be placed in the foundling hospital at vendome. it went against his pride to diverge from the course he had determined on as best, but doubts had arisen in his mind as to his wife’s guilt, and diana’s confessions had reassured him as to the paternity of the missing boy. it was thus with hope in his heart, and furnished with every necessary document, that he started for vendome; but there a terrible disappointment awaited him. the authorities of the hospital, on consulting the register, found that a child had been admitted on the day and hour mentioned by norbert, and that his description of the infant’s clothing tallied exactly with the entries. but the child was no longer in the hospital, and there was no clue to his whereabouts. he had, at the age of twelve, been apprenticed to a tanner, but he had run away from his master, and the most active and energetic search had failed to arrest the fugitive.”
catenac listened to all these exact details with an unpleasant feeling gnawing at his heart, for he saw that his associates knew everything, and he had relied upon again securing their confidence by furnishing them with those details which were evidently already known to them. mascarin, however, affected not to notice his surprise, and went on with his narrative.
“this terrible disappointment will certainly kill the duke de champdoce. it seemed to him that after having so bitterly expiated the crimes and follies of his youth, he might hope to have his old age in peace and quiet, with a son who might cheer the loneliness of his desolate fireside. his countenance, as soon as he appeared before the duchess, who had been expecting his return in an agony of anguish and suspense, told her at once that all hope had fled. in a few days, however, the duke had perfectly recovered from the shock, and had decided that to give up the search would be an act of madness. the world is wide, and a friendless boy, without a name, difficult to trace; but, with ample funds, almost anything can be done, and he was willing to sacrifice both life and fortune to attain his object. so immense were his resources, that it was easy for him to employ the most skilful detectives; and whatever the result might be, he had come to look upon this task as a sacred duty to which he ought to devote all the remaining years of his life. he swore that he would never rest or cease from his search until he had been furnished with the indisputable proofs of the existence or the death of his son. he did not confide all this project to the duchess; for he feared—and he had by this time learned to have some consideration for her enfeebled frame—her health had given way so completely that any extra degree of excitement might prove fatal to her. he, therefore, as a preliminary, applied to that element which in the rue de jerusalem acts as the terrestrial guardians of society. but the police could do nothing for the duke. they heard what he had to say gravely, took notes, told him to call again later on, and there was an end to their proceedings. it can easily be understood that the rank and position of the duke prevented him from making his name known in his inquiries; and as he dared not divulge the whole truth, he gave such a bald version of the case, that it excited no deep feelings of interest. at last he was sent to a certain m. lecoq.”
to paul’s utter astonishment, the name produced a sudden and terrible effect upon doctor hortebise, who started to his feet as if propelled from his chair by the unexpected application of some hidden motive power, and, fingering the locket that hung from his chain, gazed round upon his associates with wild and excited eyes.
“stop!” cried he. “if that fellow lecoq is to put his nose into your case, i withdraw; i will have nothing to do with it, for it is certain to be a failure.”
he appeared to be so thoroughly frightened, that catenac condescended to smile.
“yes, yes,” said he, “i can understand your alarm; but be at ease; lecoq has nothing to do with us.”
but hortebise was not satisfied with catenac’s assurance, and looked for confirmation from mascarin.
“lecoq has nothing to do with us,” repeated his friend. “the fool said that his position prevented him from giving his time to any investigation of a private nature, which, by the way, is quite true. the duke offered him a heavy sum to throw up his appointment, but he refused, saying he did not work for money, but from love for his profession.”
“which is quite true,” interrupted catenac.
“however,” continued mascarin, “to cut short my narrative, the duke, on the refusal of lecoq to act, applied to catenac.”
“yes,” answered the lawyer, “and the duke has placed the conduct of the search in my hands.”
“have you formed any plan of action?”
“not at present. the duke said, ‘ask every living soul in the world, if you can succeed in no other way’; this is all the instruction he has given me; and,” added he, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “i am almost of perpignan’s opinion, that the search will be a fruitless one.”
“lecoq did not think so.”
“he only said that he believed he should succeed if he were to take it in hand.”
“well,” answered mascarin coldly, “i have been certain of success from the very commencement.”
“have you been to vendome?” asked catenac.
“never mind, i have been somewhere, and at this very moment could place my hand upon the shoulder of the heir to the dukedom of champdoce.”
“are you in earnest?”
“i was never more in earnest in my life. i have found him; only as it is impossible for me to appear in the matter, i shall delegate to you and perpignan the happiness of restoring the lost son to his father’s arms.”
catenac glanced from mascarin to hortebise, and from them to paul, and seemed to wish to be certain that he was not being made an object of ridicule.
“and why do you not wish to appear in the matter?” asked he at last, in a suspicious tone of voice. “do you foresee some risk, and want me to bear the brunt?”
mascarin shrugged his shoulders.
“first,” said he, “i am not a traitor, as you know well enough; and then the interests of all of us depend on your safety. can one of us be compromised without endangering his associates? you know that this is impossible. all you have to do is to point out where the traces commence; others will follow them at their own risk, and all you will have to do will be to look calmly on.”
“but—”
mascarin lost his patience, and with a deep frown, replied,—
“that is enough. we require no more argument, i am the master, and it is for you to obey.”
when mascarin adopted this tone, resistance was out of the question; and as he invariably made all yield to him, it was best to obey with a good grace, and catenac relapsed into silence, completely subjugated and very much puzzled.
“sit down at my desk,” continued mascarin, “and take careful notes of what i now say. success is, as i have told you, inevitable, but i must be ably backed. all now depends upon your exactitude in obeying my orders; one false step may ruin us all. you have heard this, and cannot say that you are not fully warned.”
