Castles in the Air — Chapter VI - Honour among ----- Pt 2
3. Tact, wariness and strength were all required, you must admit, in order to deal with the present delicate situation.
I was speeding along the Rue de Richelieu on my way to my office.
My intention was to spend the night there, where I had a chair-bedstead on which I had oft before slept soundly after a day’s hard work, and anyhow it was too late to go to my lodgings at Passy at this hour.
Moreover, Theodore slept in the antechamber of the office, and I was more firmly convinced than ever that it was he who had stolen the bracelet.
“Blackleg!
Thief!
Traitor!
” I mused.
“But thou hast not done with Hector Ratichon yet.
” In the meanwhile I bethought me of the velvet-covered box in my breast pocket, and of the ginger-coloured hair and whiskers that I was still wearing, and which might prove an unpleasant “piece de conviction” in case the police were after the stolen bracelet.
With a view to examining the one and getting rid of the other, I turned into the Square Louvois, which, as usual, was very dark and wholly deserted.
Here I took off my wig and whiskers and threw them over the railings into the garden.
Then I drew the velvet-covered box from my pocket, opened it, and groped for its contents.
Imagine my feelings, my dear Sir, when I realised that the case was empty!
Fate was indeed against me that night.
I had been fooled and cheated by a traitor, and had risked New Orleans and worse for an empty box.
For a moment I must confess that I lost that imperturbable sang-froid which is the admiration of all my friends, and with a genuine oath I flung the case over the railings in the wake of the milor’s hair and whiskers.
Then I hurried home.
Theodore had not returned.
He did not come in until the small hours of the morning, and then he was in a state that I can only describe, with your permission, as hoggish.
He could hardly speak.
I had him at my mercy.
Neither tact nor wariness was required for the moment.
I
stripped him to his skin; he only laughed like an imbecile.
His eyes had a horrid squint in them; he was hideous.
I found five francs in one of his pockets, but neither in his clothes nor on his person did I find the bracelet.
“What have you done with it?
” I cried, for by this time I was maddened with rage.
“I don’t know what you are talking about!
” he stammered thickly, as he tottered towards his bed.
“Give me back my five francs, you thief!
” the brutish creature finally blurted out ere he fell into a hog-like sleep.
4. Desperate evils need desperate remedies.
I spent the rest of the night thinking hard.
By the time that dawn was breaking my mind was made up.
Theodore’s stertorous breathing assured me that he was still insentient.
I was muscular in those days, and he a meagre, attenuated, drink-sodden creature.
I lifted him out of his bed in the antechamber and carried him into mine in the office.
I found a coil of rope, and strapped him tightly in the chair-bedstead so that he could not move.
I
tied a scarf round his mouth so that he could not scream.
Then, at six o’clock, when the humbler eating-houses begin to take down their shutters, I went out.
I had Theodore’s five francs in my pocket, and I was desperately hungry.
I spent ten sous on a cup of coffee and a plate of fried onions and haricot beans, and three francs on a savoury pie, highly flavoured with garlic, and a quarter-bottle of excellent cognac.
I drank the coffee and ate the onions and the beans, and I took the pie and cognac home.
I placed a table close to the chair-bedstead and on it I disposed the pie and the cognac in such a manner that the moment Theodore woke his eyes were bound to alight on them.
Then I waited.
I absolutely ached to have a taste of that pie myself, it smelt so good, but I waited.
Theodore woke at nine o’clock.
He struggled like a fool, but he still appeared half dazed.
No doubt he thought that he was dreaming.
Then I sat down on the edge of the bed and cut myself off a large piece of the pie.
I ate it with marked relish in front of Theodore, whose eyes nearly started out of their sockets.
Then I brewed myself a cup of coffee.
The mingled odour of coffee and garlic filled the room.
It was delicious.
I thought that Theodore would have a fit.
The veins stood out on his forehead and a kind of gurgle came from behind the scarf round his mouth.
Then I told him he could partake of the pie and coffee if he told me what he had done with the bracelet.
He shook his head furiously, and I left the pie, the cognac and the coffee on the table before him and went into the antechamber, closing the office door behind me, and leaving him to meditate on his treachery.
What I wanted to avoid above everything was the traitor meeting M. Jean Duval.
He had the bracelet—of that I was as convinced as that I was alive.
But what could he do with a piece of false jewellery?
He could not dispose of it, save to a vendor of theatrical properties, who no doubt was well acquainted with the trinket and would not give more than a couple of francs for what was obviously stolen property.
After all, I had promised Theodore twenty francs; he would not be such a fool as to sell that birthright for a mess of pottage and the sole pleasure of doing me a bad turn.
There was no doubt in my mind that he had put the thing away somewhere in what he considered a safe place pending a reward being offered by Mlle.
Mars for the recovery of the bracelet.
The more I thought of this the more convinced I was that that was, indeed, his proposed plan of action—oh, how I loathed the blackleg!
—and mine henceforth would be to dog his every footstep and never let him out of my sight until I forced him to disgorge his ill-gotten booty.
At ten o’clock M. Jean Duval arrived, as was his wont, supercilious and brusque as usual.
I was just explaining to him that I hoped to have excellent news for him after the next performance of _Le Rêve_ when there was a peremptory ring at the bell.
I went to open the door, and there stood a police inspector in uniform with a sheaf of papers in his hand.
Now, I am not over-fond of our Paris police; they poke their noses in where they are least wanted.
Their incompetence favours the machinations of rogues and frustrates the innocent ambitions of the just.
However, in this instance the inspector looked amiable enough, though his manner, I must say, was, as usual, unpleasantly curt.
“Here, Ratichon,” he said, “there has been an impudent theft of a valuable bracelet out of Mademoiselle Mars’ dressing-room at the Theatre Royal last night.
You and your mate frequent all sorts of places of ill-fame; you may hear something of the affair.
” I chose to ignore the insult, and the inspector detached a paper from the sheaf which he held and threw it across the table to me.
“There is a reward of two thousand five hundred francs,” he said, “for the recovery of the bracelet.
You will find on that paper an accurate description of the jewel.
It contains the celebrated Maroni emerald, presented to the ex-Emperor by the Sultan, and given by him to Mlle.
Mars.
” Whereupon he turned unceremoniously on his heel and went, leaving me face to face with the man who had so shamefully tried to swindle me.
I
turned, and resting my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand, I looked mutely on the soi-disant Jean Duval and equally mutely pointed with an accusing finger to the description of the famous bracelet which he had declared to me was merely strass and base metal.
But he had the impudence to turn on me before I could utter a syllable.
“Where is the bracelet?
” he demanded.
“You consummate liar, you!
Where is it?
You stole it last night!
What have you done with it?
” “I extracted, at your request,” I replied with as much dignity as I could command, “a piece of theatrical jewellery, which you stated to me to be worthless, out of an iron chest, the key of which you placed in my hands.
I .
.
.
” “Enough of this rubbish!
” he broke in roughly.
“You have the bracelet.
Give it me now, or .
.
.
” He broke off and looked somewhat alarmed in the direction of the office door, from the other side of which there had just come a loud crash, followed by loud, if unintelligible, vituperation.
What had happened I could not guess; all that I could do was to carry off the situation as boldly as I dared.
“You shall have the bracelet, Sir,” I said in my most suave manner.
“You shall have it, but not unless you will pay me three thousand francs for it.
I can get two thousand five hundred by taking it straight to Mlle.
Mars.
” “And be taken up by the police for stealing it,” he retorted.
“How will you explain its being in your possession?
” I did not blanch.
“That is my affair,” I replied.
“Will you give me three thousand francs for it?
It is worth sixty thousand francs to a clever thief like you.
” “You hound!
” he cried, livid with rage, and raised his cane as if he would strike me.
“Aye, it was cleverly done, M. Jean Duval, whoever you may be.
I know that the gentleman-thief is a modern product of the old regime, but I did not know that the fraternity could show such a fine specimen as yourself.
Pay Hector Ratichon a thousand francs for stealing a bracelet for you worth sixty!
Indeed, M. Jean Duval, you deserved to succeed!
” Again he shook his cane at me.
“If you touch me,” I declared boldly, “I shall take the bracelet at once to Mlle.
Mars.
” He bit his lip and made a great effort to pull himself together.
“I haven’t three thousand francs by me,” he said.
“Go, fetch the money,” I retorted, “and I’ll fetch the bracelet.
” He demurred for a while, but I was firm, and after he had threatened to thrash me, to knock me down, and to denounce me to the police, he gave in and went to fetch the money.
5. When I remembered Theodore—Theodore, whom only a thin partition wall had separated from the full knowledge of the value of his ill-gotten treasure!
—I could have torn my hair out by the roots with the magnitude of my rage.
He, the traitor, the blackleg, was about to triumph, where I, Hector Ratichon, had failed!
He had but to take the bracelet to Mlle.
Mars himself and obtain the munificent reward whilst I, after I had taken so many risks and used all the brains and tact wherewith Nature had endowed me, would be left with the meagre remnants of the fifty francs which M. Jean Duval had so grudgingly thrown to me.
Twenty-five francs for a gold locket, ten francs for a bouquet, another ten for bonbons, and five for gratuities to the stage-doorkeeper!
Make the calculation, my good Sir, and see what I had left.
If it had not been for the five francs which I had found in Theodore’s pocket last night, I would at this moment not only have been breakfastless, but also absolutely penniless.
As it was, my final hope—and that a meagre one—was to arouse one spark of honesty in the breast of the arch-traitor, and either by cajolery or threats, to induce him to share his ill-gotten spoils with me.
I had left him snoring and strapped to the chair-bedstead, and when I opened the office door I was marvelling in my mind whether I could really bear to see him dying slowly of starvation with that savoury pie tantalizingly under his nose.
The crash which I had heard a few minutes ago prepared me for a change of scene.
Even so, I confess that the sight which I beheld glued me to the threshold.
There sat Theodore at the table, finishing the last morsel of pie, whilst the chair-bedstead lay in a tangled heap upon the floor.
I cannot tell you how nasty he was to me about the whole thing, although I showed myself at once ready to forgive him all his lies and his treachery, and was at great pains to explain to him how I had given up my own bed and strapped him into it solely for the benefit of his health, seeing that at the moment he was threatened with delirium tremens.
He would not listen to reason or to the most elementary dictates of friendship.
Having poured the vials of his bilious temper over my devoted head, he became as perverse and as obstinate as a mule.
With the most consummate impudence I ever beheld in any human being, he flatly denied all knowledge of the bracelet.
Whilst I talked he stalked past me into the ante-chamber, where he at once busied himself in collecting all his goods and chattels.
These he stuffed into his pockets until he appeared to be bulging all over his ugly-body; then he went to the door ready to go out.
On the threshold he turned and gave me a supercilious glance over his shoulder.
“Take note, my good Ratichon,” he said, “that our partnership is dissolved as from to-morrow, the twentieth day of September.
” “As from this moment, you infernal scoundrel!
” I cried.
But he did not pause to listen, and slammed the door in my face.
For two or three minutes I remained quite still, whilst I heard the shuffling footsteps slowly descending the corridor.
Then I followed him, quietly, surreptitiously, as a fox will follow its prey.
He never turned round once, but obviously he knew that he was being followed.
I will not weary you, my dear Sir, with the details of the dance which he led me in and about Paris during the whole of that memorable day.
Never a morsel passed my lips from breakfast to long after sundown.
He tried every trick known to the profession to throw me off the scent.
But I stuck to him like a leech.
When he sauntered I sauntered; when he ran I ran; when he glued his nose to the window of an eating house I halted under a doorway close by; when he went to sleep on a bench in the Luxembourg Gardens I watched over him as a mother over a babe.
Towards evening—it was an hour after sunset and the street-lamps were just being lighted—he must have thought that he had at last got rid of me; for, after looking carefully behind him, he suddenly started to walk much faster and with an amount of determination which he had lacked hitherto.
I marvelled if he was not making for the Rue Daunou, where was situated the squalid tavern of ill-fame which he was wont to frequent.
I was not mistaken.
I tracked the traitor to the corner of the street, and saw him disappear beneath the doorway of the Taverne des Trois Tigres.
I
resolved to follow.
I had money in my pocket—about twenty-five sous—and I was mightily thirsty.
I started to run down the street, when suddenly Theodore came rushing back out of the tavern, hatless and breathless, and before I succeeded in dodging him he fell into my arms.
“My money!
” he said hoarsely.
“I must have my money at once!
You thief!
You .
.
.
” Once again my presence of mind stood me in good stead.
“Pull yourself together, Theodore,” I said with much dignity, “and do not make a scene in the open street.
” But Theodore was not at all prepared to pull himself together.
He was livid with rage.
“I had five francs in my pocket last night!
” he cried.
“You have stolen them, you abominable rascal!
” “And you stole from me a bracelet worth three thousand francs to the firm,” I retorted.
“Give me that bracelet and you shall have your money back.
” “I can’t,” he blurted out desperately.
“How do you mean, you can’t?
” I exclaimed, whilst a horrible fear like an icy claw suddenly gripped at my heart.
“You haven’t lost it, have you?
” “Worse!
” he cried, and fell up against me in semi-unconsciousness.
I shook him violently.
I bellowed in his ear, and suddenly, after that one moment of apparent unconsciousness, he became, not only wide awake, but as strong as a lion and as furious as a bull.
We closed in on one another.
He hammered at me with his fists, calling me every kind of injurious name he could think of, and I had need of all my strength to ward off his attacks.
For a few moments no one took much notice of us.
Fracas and quarrels outside the drinking-houses in the mean streets of Paris were so frequent these days that the police did not trouble much about them.
But after a while Theodore became so violent that I was forced to call vigorously for help.
I thought he meant to murder me.
People came rushing out of the tavern, and someone very officiously started whistling for the gendarmes.
This had the effect of bringing Theodore to his senses.
He calmed down visibly, and before the crowd had had time to collect round us we had both sauntered off, walking in apparent amity side by side down the street.
But at the first corner Theodore halted, and this time he confined himself to gripping me by the arm with one hand whilst with the other he grasped one of the buttons of my coat.
“That five francs,” he said in a hoarse, half-choked voice.
“I must have that five francs!
Can’t you see that I can’t have that bracelet till I have my five francs wherewith to redeem it?
” “To redeem it!
” I gasped.
I was indeed glad then that he held me by the arm, for it seemed to me as if I was falling down a yawning abyss which had opened at my feet.
“Yes,” said Theodore, and his voice sounded as if it came from a great distance and through cotton-wool, “I knew that you would be after that bracelet like a famished hyena after a bone, so I tied it securely inside the pocket of the blouse I was wearing, and left this with Legros, the landlord of the Trois Tigres.
It was a good blouse; he lent me five francs on it.
Of course, he knew nothing about the bracelet then.
But he only lends money to clients in this manner on the condition that it is repaid within twenty-four hours.
I have got to pay him back before eight o’clock this evening or he will dispose of the blouse as he thinks best.
It is close on eight o’clock now.
Give me back my five francs, you confounded thief, before Legros has time to discover the bracelet!
We’ll share the reward, I promise you.
Faith of an honest man.
You liar, you cheat, you—” What was the use of talking?
I had not got five francs.
I had spent ten sous in getting myself some breakfast, and three francs in a savoury pie flavoured with garlic and in a quarter of a bottle of cognac.
I
groaned aloud.
I had exactly twenty-five sous left.
We went back to the tavern hoping against hope that Legros had not yet turned out the pockets of the blouse, and that we might induce him, by threat or cajolery or the usurious interest of twenty-five sous, to grant his client a further twenty-four hours wherein to redeem the pledge.
One glance at the interior of the tavern, however, told us that all our hopes were in vain.
Legros, the landlord, was even then turning the blouse over and over, whilst his hideous hag of a wife was talking to the police inspector, who was showing her the paper that announced the offer of two thousand five hundred francs for the recovery of a valuable bracelet, the property of Mlle.
Mars, the distinguished tragedienne.
We only waited one minute with our noses glued against the windows of the Trois Tigres, just long enough to see Legros extracting the leather case from the pocket of the blouse, just long enough to hear the police inspector saying peremptorily: “You, Legros, ought to be able to let the police know who stole the bracelet.
You must know who left that blouse with you last night.
” Then we both fled incontinently down the street.
Now, Sir, was I not right when I said that honour and loyalty are the essential qualities in our profession?
If Theodore had not been such a liar and such a traitor, he and I, between us, would have been richer by three thousand francs that day.
CHAPTER VII. — AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART
