File No. 113 by Emile Gaboriau (ebook reader browser TXT) 📖

honest man. You understood me perfectly this time.”

Fanferlot was transported with delight at this compliment.

“What must I do now, patron?” he inquired.

“Nothing difficult for an adroit man: but remember, upon the precision of our movements depends the success of my plan. Before arresting Lagors, I wish to dispose of Clameran. Now that the rascals are separated, the first thing to do is to prevent their coming together.”

“I understand,” said Fanferlot, snapping his little rat-like eyes; “I am to create a diversion.”

“Exactly. Go out by the Rue de la Huchette, and hasten to St. Michel’s bridge; loaf along the bank, and finally sit on the steps of the quay, so that Clameran may know he is being watched. If he doesn’t see you, do something to attract his attention.”

“Parbleu! I will throw a stone into the water,” said Fanferlot, rubbing his hands with delight at his own brilliant idea.

“As soon as Clameran has seen you,” continued M. Verduret, “he will be alarmed, and instantly decamp. Knowing there are reasons why the police should be after him, he will hasten to escape you; then comes the time for you to keep wide awake; he is a slippery eel, and cunning as a rat.”

“I know all that; I was not born yesterday.”

“So much the better. You can convince him of that. Well, knowing you are at his heels, he will not dare to return to the Hotel du Louvre, for fear of being called on by troublesome visitors. Now, it is very important that he should not return to the hotel.”

“But suppose he does?” said Fanferlot.

M. Verduret thought for a minute, and then said:

“It is not probable that he will do so; but if he should, you must wait until he comes out again, and continue to follow him. But he won’t enter the hotel; very likely he will take the cars: but in that event don’t lose sight of him, no matter if you have to follow him to Siberia. Have you money with you?”

“I will get some from Mme. Alexandre.”

“Very good. Ah! one more word. If the rascal takes the cars, send me word. If he beats about the bush until night, be on your guard, especially in lonely places; the desperado is capable of any enormity.”

“If necessary, must I fire?”

“Don’t be rash; but, if he attacks you, of course defend yourself. Come, ‘tis time you were gone.”

Dubois-Fanferlot went out. Verduret and Prosper resumed their post of observation.

“Why all this secrecy?” inquired Prosper. “Clameran is charged with ten times worse crimes than I was ever accused of, and yet my disgrace was made as public as possible.”

“Don’t you understand,” replied the fat man, “that I wish to separate the cause of Raoul from that of the marquis? But, sh! look!”

Clameran had left his place near the orange-woman’s stand, and approached the bridge, where he seemed to be trying to make out some unexpected object.

“Ah!” said M. Verduret; “he has just discovered our man.”

Clameran’s uneasiness was quite apparent; he walked forward a few steps, as if intending to cross the bridge; then, suddenly turning around, rapidly walked in the direction of the Rue St. Jacques.

“He is caught!” cried M. Verduret with delight.

At that moment the door opened, and Mme. Nina Gypsy, alias Palmyre Chocareille, entered.

Poor Nina! Each day spent in the service of Madeleine seemed to have aged her a year.

Tears had dimmed the brilliancy of her beautiful black eyes; her rosy cheeks were pale and hollow, and her merry smile was quite gone.

Poor Gypsy, once so gay and spirited, now crushed beneath the burden of her sorrows, was the picture of misery.

Prosper thought that, wild with joy at seeing him, and proud of having so nobly devoted herself to his interest, Nina would throw her arms around his neck, and say how much she loved him. To his surprise, Nina scarcely spoke to him. Although his every thought had been devoted to Madeleine since he discovered the reasons for her cruelty, he was hurt by Nina’s cold manner.

The girl stood looking at M. Verduret with a mixture of fear and devotion, like a poor dog that has been cruelly treated by its master.

He, however, was kind and gentle in his manner toward her.

“Well, my dear,” he said encouragingly, “what news do you bring me?”

“Something is going on at the house, monsieur, and I have been trying to get here to tell you; at last, Mlle. Madeleine made an excuse for sending me out.”

“You must thank Mlle. Madeleine for her confidence in me. I suppose she carried out the plan we decided upon?”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“She receives the Marquis of Clameran’s visits?”

“Since the marriage has been decided upon, he comes every day, and mademoiselle receives him with kindness. He seems to be delighted.”

These answers filled Prosper with anger and alarm. The poor young man, not comprehending the intricate moves of M. Verduret, felt as if he were being tossed about from pillar to post, and made the tool and laughing-stock of everybody.

“What!” he cried; “this worthless Marquis of Clameran, an assassin and a thief, allowed to visit at M. Fauvel’s, and pay his addresses to Madeleine? Where are the promises, monsieur, which you have made? Have you merely been amusing yourself by raising my hopes, to dash them—”

“Enough!” interrupted M. Verduret harshly; “you are too green to understand anything, my friend. If you are incapable of helping yourself, at least have sense enough to refrain from importuning those who are working for you. Do you not think you have already done sufficient mischief?”

Having administered this rebuke, he turned to Gypsy, and said in softer tones:

“Go on, my child: what have you discovered?”

“Nothing positive, monsieur; but enough to make me nervous, and fearful of impending danger. I am not certain, but suspect from appearances, that some dreadful catastrophe is about to happen. It may only be a presentiment. I cannot get any information from Mme. Fauvel; she refuses to answer any hints, and moves about like a ghost, never opening her lips. She seems to be afraid of her niece, and to be trying to conceal something from her.”

“What about M. Fauvel?”

“I was just about to tell you, monsieur. Some fearful misfortune has happened to him, you may depend upon it. He wanders about as if he had lost his mind. Something certainly