Caught in the Net by Emile Gaboriau (the ebook reader .txt) 📕

himself that there were no eavesdroppers, and then, in a low whisper, he said to Hortebise, “Do you not see that there is but one obstacle to our success, and that is Andre? Remove him, and the whole of our machinery will work as smoothly as ever.”

Hortebise winced, as if suffering from a sudden pain.

“Do you mean——?” asked he.

But Tantaine interrupted him with a low laugh, terrible to listen to.

“And why not?” said he. “Is it not better to kill than to be killed?”

Hortebise trembled from head to foot. He had no objection to extorting money by the basest threats, but he drew the line at murder.

“And suppose we were found out?” muttered he.

“Nonsense! How could we be discovered? Justice always looks for a motive; how, then could they bring it home to us? They could only find out that a young lady adored by De Breulh had thrown him over in order to marry Andre.”

“Horrible!” murmured the doctor, much shocked.

“I daresay that it is horrible, and I have no wish to proceed to extremities. I only wish to speak of it as a remote possibility, and one that we may be compelled to adopt. I hate violence just as much as you do, and trust that it may not be necessary.”

Just then the door opened, and Paul entered, a letter in his hand. He seemed in excellent spirits, and shook hands with both his visitors.

Tantaine smiled sarcastically as he contrasted Paul’s high spirits with the state of depression in which he had left him not many hours ago.

“Things are evidently going well with you,” remarked the doctor, forcing a smile.

“Yes; I cannot find any reason for complaint.”

“Have you given your lesson?”

“Yes; what a delightful woman Madame Grandorge is! she has treated me so kindly.”

“That is a good reason for your being so happy,” remarked the doctor, with a tinge of irony in his voice.

“Ah, that is not the only reason,” returned Paul.

“Shall I be indiscreet if I ask the real cause, then?”

“I am not quite sure whether I ought to speak on this matter,” said he fatuously.

“What! a love adventure already?” laughed the doctor.

The vanity of Paul’s nature beamed out in a smile.

“Keep your secret, my boy,” said Tantaine, in louder accents.

This, of course, was enough to loosen Paul’s tongue.

“Do you think, sir,” said he, “that I would keep anything from you?” He opened the letter he held in his hand, continuing: “The portress handed this to me as I came in; she said it was left by a bank messenger. Can you guess where it came from? Let me tell you—it is from Mademoiselle Flavia Rigal, and leaves no room to doubt of her sentiments toward me.”

“Is that a fact?”

“It is so; and whenever I choose, Mademoiselle Flavia will be only too ready to become Madame Paul.”

For an instant a bright flush crimsoned old Tantaine’s wrinkled face, but it faded away almost as soon as it appeared.

“Then you feel happy?” asked he, with a slight quiver in his voice.

Paul threw back his coat, and, placing his fingers in the armholes of his waistcoat, remarked carelessly,—

“Yes, of course, I am happy, as you may suppose; but the news is not particularly startling to me. On my third visit to M. Rigal’s, the girl let me know that I need not sigh in vain.”

Tantaine covered his face with his hands as Paul passed his fingers through his hair, and, striking what he considered an imposing attitude, read as follows:—

“MY DEAR PAUL,—

“I was very naughty, and I repent of it. I could not sleep all night, for I was haunted by the look of sorrow I saw in your face when you took leave of me. Paul, I did it to try you. Can you forgive me? You might, for I suffered much more than you could have done. Some one who loves me—perhaps more than you do—has told me that when a girl shows all the depths of her heart to a man she runs the risk of his despising her. Can this be true? I hope not, Paul, for never—no, never—can I conceal my feelings; and the proof of my faith in you is that I am going now to tell you all. I am sure that if your good friend and mine, Dr. Hortebise, came to my father with a certain request from you, it would not be rejected.

“Your own

“FLAVIA.”

“Did not this letter go straight to your heart?” asked Tantaine.

“Of course it did. Why, she will have a million for her wedding portion!”

On hearing these words, Tantaine started up with so threatening an aspect that Paul recoiled a step, but a warning look from the doctor restrained the old man’s indignation.

“He is a perfect sham!” muttered he; “even his vices are mere pretence.”

“He is our pupil, and is what we have made him,” whispered Tantaine.

Meanwhile Tantaine had gone up to Paul, and, placing his hand caressingly on his shoulder, said,—

“My boy, you will never know how much you owe to Mademoiselle Flavia.”

Paul could not understand the meaning of this scene. These men had done their best to pervert his morals, and to deaden the voice of his conscience, and now that he had hoped to earn their praise by an affectation of cynicism they were displeased with him. Before, however, he could ask a question, Tantaine had completely recovered his self-command.

“My dear boy,” said he, “I am quite satisfied with you. I came here to-day expecting to find you still undecided, and I am pleased with the change.”

“But, sir—” said Paul.

“On the contrary, you are firm and strong.”

“Yes, he has got on so well,” said the doctor, “that we should now treat him as one of ourselves, and confide more in him. To-night, my young friend, M. Mascarin will get from Caroline Schimmel the solution of the riddle that has for so long perplexed us. Be at the office to-morrow at ten o’clock, and you shall be told everything.”

Paul would have asked more questions, but Tantaine cut him short with a brief good-morning, and went off hurriedly, taking the doctor with him, and seemingly wishing to avoid a hazardous and unpleasant explanation.

“Let us get out of this,” whispered he. “In another moment I should have knocked the conceited