Other People's Money by Emile Gaboriau (superbooks4u txt) 📖

“Now, then,” he resumed, “never mind M. de Tregars:  let us talk of the woman, who, you seem to think, has been the cause of M. Favoral’s ruin.”

On the table before him lay the paper in which Maxence had read in the morning the terrible article headed:  “Another Financial Disaster.”

“I know nothing of that woman,” he replied; “but it must be easy to find out, since the writer of this article pretends to know.”

The commissary smiled, not having quite as much faith in newspapers as Maxence seemed to have.

“Yes, I read that,” he said.

“We might send to the office of that paper,” suggested Mlle. Lucienne.

“I have already sent, my child.”

And, without noticing the surprise of Maxence and of the young girl, he rang the bell, and asked whether his secretary had returned.  The secretary answered by appearing in person.

“Well?” inquired the commissary.

“I have attended to the matter, sir,” he replied.  “I saw the reporter who wrote the article in question; and, after beating about the bush for some time, he finally confessed that he knew nothing more than had been published, and that he had obtained his information from two intimate friends of the cashier, M. Costeclar and M. Saint Pavin.”

“You should have gone to see those gentlemen.”

“I did.”

“Very well.  What then?”

“Unfortunately, M. Costeclar had just gone out.  As to M. Saint Pavin, I found him at the office of his paper, ‘The Financial Pilot.’  He is a coarse and vulgar personage, and received me like a pickpocket.  I had even a notion to—”

“Never mind that!  Go on.”

“He was closeted with another gentleman, a banker, named Jottras, of the house of Jottras and Brother.  They were both in a terrible rage, swearing like troopers, and saying that the Favoral defalcation would ruin them; that they had been taken in like fools, but that they were not going to take things so easy, and they were preparing a crushing article.”

But he stopped, winking, and pointing to Maxence and Mlle. Lucienne, who were listening as attentively as they could.

“Speak, speak!” said the commissary.  “Fear nothing.”

“Well,” he went on, “M.  Saint Pavin and M. Jottras were saying that M. Favoral was only a poor dupe, but that they would know how to find the others.”

“What others?”

“Ah! they didn’t say.”

The commissary shrugged his shoulders.

“What!” he exclaimed, “you find yourself in presence of two men furious to have been duped, who swear and threaten, and you can’t get from them a name that you want?  You are not very smart, my dear!”

And as the poor secretary, somewhat put out of countenance, looked down, and said nothing,

“Did you at least ask them,” he resumed, “who the woman is to whom the article refers, and whose existence they have revealed to the reporter?”

“Of course I did, sir.”

“And what did they answer?”

“That they were not spies, and had nothing to say.  M. Saint Pavin added, however, that he had said it without much thought, and only because he had once seen M. Favoral buying a three thousand francs bracelet, and also because it seemed impossible to him that a man should do away with millions without the aid of a woman.”

The commissary could not conceal his ill humor.

“Of course!” he grumbled.  “Since Solomon said, ‘Look for the woman’ (for it was King Solomon who first said it), every fool thinks it smart to repeat with a cunning look that most obvious of truths.  What next?”

“M.  Saint Pavin politely invited me to go to—well, not here.”

The commissary wrote rapidly a few lines, put them in an envelope, which he sealed with his private seal, and handed it to his secretary, saying,

“That will do.  Take this to the prefecture yourself.”  And, after the secretary had gone out,

“Well, M. Maxence,” he said, “you have heard?”  Of course he had.  Only Maxence was thinking much less of what he had just heard than of the strange interest this commissary had taken in his affairs, even before he had seen him.

“I think,” he stammered, “that it is very unfortunate the woman cannot be found.”

With a gesture full of confidence,

“Be easy,” said the commissary:  “she shall be found.  A woman cannot swallow millions at that rate, without attracting attention.  Believe me, we shall find her, unless—”

He paused for a moment, and, speaking slowly and emphatically,

“Unless,” he added, “she should have behind her a very skillful and very prudent man.  Or else that she should be in a situation where her extravagance could not have created any scandal.”

Mlle. Lucienne started.  She fancied she understood the commissary’s idea, and could catch a glimpse of the truth.

“Good heavens!” she murmured.

But Maxence didn’t notice any thing, his mind being wholly bent upon following the commissary’s deductions.

“Or unless,” he said, “my father should have received almost nothing for his share of the enormous sums subtracted from the Mutual Credit, in which case he could have given relatively but little to that woman.  M. Saint Pavin himself acknowledges that my father has been egregiously taken in.”

“By whom?”

Maxence hesitated for a moment.

“I think,” he said at last, “and several friends of my family (among whom M. Chapelain, an old lawyer) think as I do, that it is very strange that my father should have drawn millions from the Mutual Credit without any knowledge of the fact on the part of the manager.”

“Then, according to you, M. de Thaller must be an accomplice.”

Maxence made no answer.

“Be it so,” insisted the commissary.  “I admit M. de Thaller’s complicity; but then we must suppose that he had over your father some powerful means of action.”

“An employer always has a great deal of influence over his subordinates.”

“An influence sufficiently powerful to make them run the risk of the galleys for his benefit!  That is not likely.  We must try and imagine something else.”

“I am trying; but I don’t find any thing.”