The Slaves of Paris Émile Gaboriau (free reads .TXT) 📖

francs per month for two lessons a week, and two of them will assure you that you have taught them for some time. The third, Madame Grandorge, a widow, will vow that she owes all her success, which is very great, to your lessons. You will go and give these pupils their lessons at the hours noted on their cards, and you will be received as if you had often been to the house before; and remember to be perfectly at your ease.”

“I will do my best to follow your instructions.”

“One last piece of information. In addition to your lessons, you are in the habit of copying for certain wealthy amateurs the fragments of old and almost obsolete operas, and on the piano lies the work that you are engaged on for the Marquis de Croisenois, a charming composition by Valserra. You see,” continued Tantaine, taking Paul by the arm, and showing him round the room, “that nothing has been forgotten, and that you have lived here for years past. You have always been a steady young man, and have saved up a little money. In this drawer you will find eight certificates of scrip from the Bank of France.”

Paul would have put many more questions, but the visitor was already on the threshold, and only paused to add these words⁠—

“I will call here tomorrow with Dr. Hortebise.” Then, with a strange smile playing on his lips, he added, as Mascarin had before, “You will be a duke yet.”

The old portress was waiting for Tantaine, and as soon as she saw him coming down the stairs immersed in deep thought, out she ran toward him with as much alacrity as her corpulency would admit.

“Did I do it all right?” asked she.

“Hush!” answered he, pushing her quickly into her lodge, the door of which stood open. “Hush! are you mad or drunk, to talk like this, when you do not know who is listening?”

“I hope you were pleased with my success,” continued the woman, aghast at his sudden anger.

“You did well⁠—very well; you piled up the evidence perfectly. I shall have an excellent report to make of you to M. Mascarin.”

“I am so glad; and now my husband and I are quite safe?”

The old man shook his head with an air of doubt.

“Well, I can hardly say that yet; the master’s arm is long and strong; but you have numerous enemies. All the servants in the house hate you, and would be glad to see you come to grief.”

“Is that really so, sir? How can that be, for both I and my husband have been very kind to all of them?”

“Yes, perhaps you have been lately, but how about the times before? You and your husband both acted very foolishly. Article 386 cannot be got now, and two women can swear that they saw you and your husband, with a bunch of keys in your hand, on the second floor.”

The fat woman’s face turned a sickly yellow, she clasped her hands, and whined in tones of piteous entreaty⁠—

“Don’t speak so loud, sir, I beg of you.”

“You made a terrible mistake in not coming to my master earlier, for there had been then so much talk that the matter had reached the ears of the police.”

“But for all that, if M. Mascarin pleased⁠—”

“He does please, my good woman, and is quite willing to serve you. I am sure that he will manage to break the inquiry; or if it must go on, he has several witnesses who will depose in your favor; but, you know, he gives nothing for nothing, and must have implicit obedience.”

“Good, kind man that he is, my husband and I would go through fire and water for him, while my daughter, Euphenice, would do anything in the world for him.”

Tantaine recoiled uneasily, for the old woman’s gratitude was so demonstrative that he feared she was about to embrace him.

“All you have to do is to stick firmly to what you have said about Paul,” continued he, when he found himself at a safe distance; “and if ever you breathe a word of what you have been doing, he will hand you over to the law, and then take care of Article 386.”

It was evident that this portion of the Code, that had reference to the robbery of masters by servants, struck terror into the woman’s soul.

“If I stood on the scaffold,” said she, “I would tell the story about M. Paul exactly as I have been taught.”

Her tone was so sincere, that Tantaine addressed her in a kindlier voice.

“Stick to that,” said he, “and I can say to you, ‘Hope.’ Upon the day on which the young man’s business is settled you will get a paper from me, which will prove your complete innocence, and enable you to say, ‘I have been grossly maligned.’ ”

“May the dear young man’s business be settled sharp,” said she.

“It will not be long before it is so; but, remember, in the meantime you must keep an eye upon him.”

“I will do so.”

“And, remember, report to me whoever comes to see him, no matter who it may be.”

“Not a soul can go upstairs without my seeing or hearing him.”

“Well, if anyone, save the master, Dr. Hortebise, or myself comes, do not lose a moment, but come and report.”

“You shall know in five minutes.”

“I wonder if that is all I have to say?” mused Tantaine. “Ah! I remember: note exactly the hour at which this young man comes and goes. Do not have any conversation with him; answer all questions he addresses you with a simple ‘Yes,’ or ‘No,’ and, as I said before, watch his every movement.”

And Tantaine turned to go away, paying no attention to the woman’s eager protestations.

“Keep a strict watch,” were his last words, “and, above all, see that the lad gets into no scrape.”

In Tantaine’s presence Paul had endeavored to assume an air of bravado, but as soon as he was left alone he was seized with such mortal terror, that he sank in a