File No. 113 by Émile Gaboriau (summer beach reads .txt) 📕

crimes, which the law, unfortunately, can rarely overtake and punish.

“Extortion of hush-money,” said an old prefect of police, “is a trade which supports at least a thousand scamps in Paris alone. Sometimes we know the blackmailer and his victim, and yet we can do nothing. Moreover, if we were to catch the villain in the very act, and hand him over to justice, the victim, in her fright at the chance of her secret being discovered, would turn against us.”

It is true, extortion has become a business. Very often it is the business of loafers, who spend plenty of money, when everyone knows they have no visible means of support, and of whom people ask, “What do they live upon?”

The poor victims do not know how easy it would be to rid themselves of their tyrants. The police are fully capable of faithfully keeping secrets confided to them. A visit to the Rue de Jerusalem, a confidential communication with a head of the bureau, who is as silent as a father confessor, and the affair is arranged, without noise, without publicity, without anyone ever being the wiser. There are traps for “master extortioners,” which work well in the hands of the police.

Mme. Fauvel had no defence against the scoundrels who were torturing her, save prayers and tears; these availed her little.

Sometimes Mme. Fauvel betrayed such heartbroken suffering when Raoul begged her for money which she had no means of obtaining, that he would hurry away disgusted at his own brutal conduct, and say to Clameran:

“You must end this dirty business; I cannot stand it any longer. I will blow any man’s brains out, or fight a crowd of cutthroats, if you choose; but as to killing by agony and fright these two poor miserable women, whom I am really fond of, I am not going to do it. You ask for more than I can do. I am not quite the cowardly hound you take me for.”

Clameran paid no attention to these remonstrances: indeed, he was prepared for them.

“It is not pleasant, I know,” he replied; “but necessity knows no law. Have a little more perseverance and patience; we have almost got to the end.”

The end was nearer than Clameran supposed. Toward the latter part of November, Mme. Fauvel saw that it was impossible to postpone the catastrophe any longer, and as a last effort determined to apply to the marquis for assistance.

She had not seen him since his return from Oloron, except once, when he came to announce his accession to wealth. At that time, persuaded that he was the evil genius of Raoul, she had received him very coldly, and did not invite him to repeat his visit.

She hesitated about speaking to her niece of the step she intended taking, because she feared violent opposition.

To her great surprise Madeleine warmly approved of it.

Trouble had made her keen-sighted and suspicious. Reflecting on past events, comparing and weighing every act and speech of Raoul, she was now convinced that he was Clameran’s tool.

She thought that Raoul was too shrewd to be acting in this shameful way, ruinously to his own interests, if there were not some secret motive at the bottom of it all. She saw that this persecution was more feigned than real.

So thoroughly was she convinced of this, that, had it only concerned herself alone, she would have firmly resisted the oppression, certain that the threatened exposure would never take place.

Recalling, with a shudder, certain looks of Clameran, she guessed the truth, that the object of all this underhand work was to force her to become his wife.

Determined on making the sacrifice, in spite of her repugnance toward the man, she wished to have the deed done at once; anything was preferable to this terrible anxiety, to the life of torture which Raoul made her lead. She felt that her courage might fail if she waited and suffered much longer.

“The sooner you see M. de Clameran the better for us, aunt,” she said, after talking the project over.

The next day Mme. Fauvel called on the marquis at the Hotel du Louvre, having sent him a note announcing her intended visit.

He received her with cold, studied politeness, like a man who had been misunderstood and had been unjustly wounded.

After listening to her report of Raoul’s scandalous behavior, he became very indignant, and swore that he would soon make him repent of his heartlessness.

But when Mme. Fauvel told of the immense sums of money forced from her, Clameran seemed confounded, as if he could not believe it.

“The worthless rascal!” he exclaimed, “the idea of his audacity! Why, during the last four months, I have given him more than twenty thousand francs, which I would not have done except to prevent him from applying to you, as he constantly threatened to do.”

Seeing an expression of doubtful surprise upon Mme. Fauvel’s face, Louis arose, and took from his desk some receipts signed by Raoul. The total amount was twenty-three thousand five hundred francs.

Mme. Fauvel was shocked and amazed.

“He has obtained forty thousand francs from me,” she faintly said, “so that altogether he has spent sixty thousand francs in four months.”

“I can’t imagine what he does with it,” said Clameran, “unless he spends it on actresses.”

“Good heavens! what can these creatures do with all the money lavished on them?”

“That is a question I cannot answer, madame.”

He appeared to pity Mme. Fauvel sincerely; he promised that he would at once see Raoul, and reason with him about the shameful life he was leading; perhaps he could be persuaded to reform. Finally, after many protestations of friendship, he wound up by placing his fortune at her disposal.

Although Mme. Fauvel refused his offer, she appreciated the kindness of it, and on returning home said to Madeleine:

“Perhaps we have mistaken his character; he may be a good man after all.”

Madeleine sadly shook her head. She had anticipated just what happened. Clameran’s magnanimity and generosity confirmed her presentiments.

Raoul came to see his uncle, and found him radiant.

“Everything is going on swimmingly, my smart nephew,” said Clameran; “your receipts