The Slaves of Paris by Émile Gaboriau (good book recommendations .txt) 📕

as if propelled from his chair by the unexpected application of some hidden motive power, and, fingering the locket that hung from his chain, gazed round upon his associates with wild and excited eyes.

“Stop!” cried he. “If that fellow Lecoq is to put his nose into your case, I withdraw; I will have nothing to do with it, for it is certain to be a failure.”

He appeared to be so thoroughly frightened, that Catenac condescended to smile.

“Yes, yes,” said he, “I can understand your alarm; but be at ease; Lecoq has nothing to do with us.”

But Hortebise was not satisfied with Catenac’s assurance, and looked for confirmation from Mascarin.

“Lecoq has nothing to do with us,” repeated his friend. “The fool said that his position prevented him from giving his time to any investigation of a private nature, which, by the way, is quite true. The Duke offered him a heavy sum to throw up his appointment, but he refused, saying he did not work for money, but from love for his profession.”

“Which is quite true,” interrupted Catenac.

“However,” continued Mascarin, “to cut short my narrative, the Duke, on the refusal of Lecoq to act, applied to Catenac.”

“Yes,” answered the lawyer, “and the Duke has placed the conduct of the search in my hands.”

“Have you formed any plan of action?”

“Not at present. The Duke said, ‘Ask every living soul in the world, if you can succeed in no other way’; this is all the instruction he has given me; and,” added he, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “I am almost of Perpignan’s opinion, that the search will be a fruitless one.”

“Lecoq did not think so.”

“He only said that he believed he should succeed if he were to take it in hand.”

“Well,” answered Mascarin coldly, “I have been certain of success from the very commencement.”

“Have you been to Vendôme?” asked Catenac.

“Never mind, I have been somewhere, and at this very moment could place my hand upon the shoulder of the heir to the dukedom of Champdoce.”

“Are you in earnest?”

“I was never more in earnest in my life. I have found him; only as it is impossible for me to appear in the matter, I shall delegate to you and Perpignan the happiness of restoring the lost son to his father’s arms.”

Catenac glanced from Mascarin to Hortebise, and from them to Paul, and seemed to wish to be certain that he was not being made an object of ridicule.

“And why do you not wish to appear in the matter?” asked he at last, in a suspicious tone of voice. “Do you foresee some risk, and want me to bear the brunt?”

Mascarin shrugged his shoulders.

“First,” said he, “I am not a traitor, as you know well enough; and then the interests of all of us depend on your safety. Can one of us be compromised without endangering his associates? You know that this is impossible. All you have to do is to point out where the traces commence; others will follow them at their own risk, and all you will have to do will be to look calmly on.”

“But⁠—”

Mascarin lost his patience, and with a deep frown, replied⁠—

“That is enough. We require no more argument, I am the master, and it is for you to obey.”

When Mascarin adopted this tone, resistance was out of the question; and as he invariably made all yield to him, it was best to obey with a good grace, and Catenac relapsed into silence, completely subjugated and very much puzzled.

“Sit down at my desk,” continued Mascarin, “and take careful notes of what I now say. Success is, as I have told you, inevitable, but I must be ably backed. All now depends upon your exactitude in obeying my orders; one false step may ruin us all. You have heard this, and cannot say that you are not fully warned.”

XX A Sudden Check

Catenac seated himself at the writing-table without a word, concealing his anger and jealousy beneath a careless smile. Mascarin was no longer the plotter consulting with his confederates; he was the master issuing his orders to his subordinates. He had now taken from a box some of those square pieces of pasteboard, which he spent his time in reading over.

“Try and not miss one word of what I am saying,” remarked he, bending his keen glance upon Paul; then, turning to Catenac, he continued, “Can you persuade the Duke de Champdoce and Perpignan to start for Vendôme on Saturday?”

“Perhaps I may be able to do so.”

“I want a Yes or No. Can you or can you not make these people go there?”

“Well, yes, then.”

“Very well. Then, on going to Vendôme, you will stop at the Hotel de Porte.”

“Hotel de Porte,” repeated Catenac, as he made a note of the name.

“Upon the day of your arrival at Vendôme,” continued Mascarin, “you could do very little. Your time would be taken up in resting after your journey, and perhaps you may make a few preliminary inquiries. It will be on Sunday that you will go to the hospital together, and make the same inquires which the Duke formerly made by himself. The lady superior is a woman of excellent taste and education, and she will do all that she can to be useful to you. Through her you will be able to obtain the boy’s description, and the date on which he left the hospital to be apprenticed to a tanner. She will tell you that, disliking the employment, he ran away from them at the age of twelve and a half years, and that since then no trace of him has been found. You will hear from her that he was a tall, well-built lad, looking two years older than he really was, with an intelligent cast of feature, and keen, bright eyes, full of health and good looks. He had on, on the day of his disappearance, blue and white striped trousers, a gray blouse, a cap with no peak, and a spotted