Other People's Money by Emile Gaboriau (ebook smartphone txt) 📕

been prepared for a long time; and, before commencing to fish, they must have troubled the water so well, that justice will be unable to see anything in it.”

“And you see no one who could help us?”

“Favoral—”

To Maxence’s great surprise, M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders.

“That one is gone,” he said; “and, were he at hand, it is quite evident that if he was in collusion with M. de Thaller, he would not speak.”

“Of course.”

“That being the case, what can we do?”

“Wait.”

M. de Tregars made a gesture of discouragement.

“I might as well give up the fight, then,” he said, “and try to compromise.”

“Why so?  We don’t know what may happen.  Keep quiet, be patient; I am here, and I am looking out for squalls.”

He got up and prepared to leave.

“You have more experience than I have,” said M. de Tregars; “and, since that’s your opinion——”

M. d’Escajoul had resumed all his good humor.

“Very well, then, it’s understood,” he said, pressing M. de Tregars’ hand.  “I am watching for both of us; and if I see a chance, I come at once, and you act.”

But the outer door had hardly closed, when suddenly the countenance of Marius de Tregars changed.  Shaking the hand which M. d’Escajoul had just touched,—“Pouah!” he said with a look of thorough disgust,—“pouah!”

And noticing Maxence’s look of utter surprise,

“Don’t you understand,” he said, “that this old rascal has been sent to me by Thaller to feel my intentions, and mislead me by false information?  I had scented him, fortunately; and, if either one of us is dupe of the other, I have every reason to believe that it will not be me.”

They had finished their breakfast.  M. de Tregars called his servant.

“Have you been for a carriage?” he asked.

“It is at the door, sir.”

“Well, then, come along.”

Maxence had the good sense not to over-estimate himself.  Perfectly convinced that he could accomplish nothing alone, he was firmly resolved to trust blindly to Marius de Tregars.

He followed him, therefore; and it was only after the carriage had started, that he ventured to ask,

“Where are we going?”

“Didn’t you hear me,” replied M. de Tregars, “order the driver to take us to the court-house?”

“I beg your pardon; but what I wish to know is, what we are going to do there?”

“You are going, my dear friend, to ask an audience of the judge who has your father’s case in charge, and deposit into his hands the fifteen thousand francs you have in your pocket.”

“What!  You wish me to—”

“I think it better to place that money into the hands of justice, which will appreciate the step, than into those of M. de Thaller, who would not breathe a word about it.  We are in a position where nothing should be neglected; and that money may prove an indication.”

But they had arrived.  M. de Tregars guided Maxence through the labyrinth of corridors of the building, until he came to a long gallery, at the entrance of which an usher was seated reading a newspaper.

“M.  Barban d’Avranchel?” inquired M. de Tregars.

“He is in his office,” replied the usher.

“Please ask him if he would receive an important deposition in the Favoral case.”

The usher rose somewhat reluctantly, and, while he was gone,

“You will go in alone,” said M. de Tregars to Maxence.  “I shall not appear; and it is important that my name should not even be pronounced.  But, above all, try and remember even the most insignificant words of the judge; for, upon what he tells you, I shall regulate my conduct.”

The usher returned.

“M. d’Avranchel will receive you,” he said.  And, leading Maxence to the extremity of the gallery, he opened a small door, and pushed him in, saying at the same time,

“That is it, sir:  walk in.”

It was a small room, with a low ceiling, and poorly furnished.  The faded curtains and threadbare carpet showed plainly that more than one judge had occupied it, and that legions of accused criminals had passed through it.  In front of a table, two men—one old, the judge; the other young, the clerk—were signing and classifying papers.  These papers related to the Favoral case, and were all indorsed in large letters:  Mutual Credit Company.

As soon as Maxence appeared, the judge rose, and, after measuring him with a clear and cold look: 

“Who are you?” he interrogated.

In a somewhat husky voice, Maxence stated his name and surname.

“Ah! you are Vincent Favoral’s son,” interrupted the judge.  “And it was you who helped him escape through the window?  I was going to send you a summons this very day; but, since you are here, so much the better.  You have something important to communicate, I have been told.”

Very few people, even among the most strictly honest, can overcome a certain unpleasant feeling when, having crossed the threshold of the palace of justice, they find themselves in presence of a judge.  More than almost any one else, Maxence was likely to be accessible to that vague and inexplicable feeling; and it was with an effort that he answered,

“On Saturday evening, the Baron de Thaller called at our house a few minutes before the commissary.  After loading my father with reproaches, he invited him to leave the country; and, in order to facilitate his flight, he handed him these fifteen thousand francs.  My father declined to accept them; and, at the moment of parting, he recommended to me particularly to return them to M. de Thaller.  I thought it best to return them to you, sir.”

“Why?”

“Because I wished the fact known to you of the money having been offered and refused.”

M. Barban d’Avranchel was quietly stroking his whiskers, once of a bright red, but now almost entirely white.

“Is this an insinuation against the manager of the Mutual Credit?” he asked.

Maxence looked straight at him; and, in a tone which affirmed precisely the reverse,

“I accuse no one,” he said.