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

Mascarin paused, drew a long breath, and chuckled inwardly, as though at some excellent joke.

“Be comforted, Catenac,” said he. “You have nearly reached the end of your journey. The portress at the house in the Rue Montmartre is the most obliging woman in the world. She will tell you that the musician still retains his rooms in the house, but that he resides there no longer, for he has made a lucky hit, and last month he married the daughter of a wealthy banker living close by. The young lady, Mademoiselle Rigal, saw him, and fell in love with him.”

A clever man like Catenac should have foreseen what was coming, but he had not, and at this conclusion he uttered a loud exclamation of surprise.

“Yes, just so,” said Mascarin, with an air of bland triumph. “The Duke de Champdoce will then drag you off to our mutual friend Martin Rigal, and there you will find our young protégé, the happy husband of the beautiful Flavia.”

Mascarin drew himself up, and adjusted his glasses firmly on his nose.

“Now, my dear Catenac, show the liberality and amiability of your disposition by congratulating our friend Paul as Gontran, Marquis de Champdoce.”

Hortebise, of course, knew what was coming; he knew the lines of the plot of the play as if he had been a joint author of it, and was as much excited as if he were assisting at a first rehearsal.

“Bravo!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Bravo, my dear Mascarin, you have excelled yourself today!”

Worried and perplexed as Paul had been, as Mascarin concluded he sank back in his chair, sick and giddy with emotion.

“Yes,” said Mascarin in a clear and ringing voice, “I accept your praise without any affectation of false modesty. We have no reason to fear the intervention of that grain of sand which sometimes stops the working of the machine. Perpignan, poor fool though he is, will be our best friend, and will do our work quite unconsciously. Can the Duke retain any atom of suspicion after these minute investigations? Impossible. But to remove the slightest element of doubt, I have another and an additional plan. I will make him retrace the path upon which he has started. He shall take Paul to all these various places, and at all of them the statements will be even more fully confirmed. Paul, the son-in-law of Martin Rigal, the husband of Flavia, will be recognized in the Rue Montmartre, the Rue Jacob, and the Rue de la Harpe. He will be joyfully welcomed in the Rue d’Arras; Fritz will embrace his ungrateful pupil; Vigoureux will remind him of his skillful feats on the trapeze; the Lorgelin family will press the lad whom they gave shelter to, to their hearts, and this will happen, Catenac, because I will it, and because all the people from the portress in the Rue Montmartre to the Lorgelins are my slaves, and dare not disobey one single command which I may issue.”

Catenac rose slowly and solemnly from his seat.

“I recognize your patience and ingenuity thoroughly, only I am going with one word to crush the fabric of hope that you have so carefully erected.”

Catenac might be a coward, he might also be a traitor but he was a clever and clear-sighted man too. Consequently Hortebise shivered as he heard these words, but Mascarin smiled disdainfully, basking in his dream of success.

“Go on then,” said he.

“Well, then, let me tell you that you will not overreach and deceive the Duke.”

“And why not, pray?” asked Mascarin. “But are you sure that I wish to deceive him? You have not been open with me, why should I be frank with you? Am I in the habit of confiding in those who do not repose confidence in me? Does Perpignan for a moment suspect the part that he is to play? Why may I not have judged it best to keep from you the fact that Paul is really the child you are seeking?”

Mascarin spoke so confidently that Catenac gazed upon him, hardly knowing to what conclusion to come, for his conscience was by no means clear. His intellect quickly dived into the depths of all probabilities, and yet he could not see in all these combinations any possible peril to himself.

“I only hope,” said he, “that Paul is all that you represent him to be; but why all these precautions? Only, mark my words, the Duke has an infallible way of detecting, or rather of preventing, any attempt at imposition. It is ever thus, the most trivial circumstance will overset the best laid plans, and the inevitable destroy the combinations of the most astute intellect.”

Mascarin interrupted his associate.

“Paul is the son of the Duke de Champdoce,” said he decisively.

What was the meaning of this? Catenac felt that he was being played with, and grew angry.

“As you please; but you will, I presume, permit me to convince myself of the truth of this assertion.”

Then, advancing towards Paul, the lawyer said⁠—

“Have the goodness to remove your coat.”

Paul took it off, and threw it upon the back of a chair.

“Now,” added Catenac, “roll up your right shirt sleeve to the shoulder.”

Scarcely had the young man obeyed, and the lawyer cast a rapid glance at the bare flesh, than he turned to his associates and observed⁠—

“No, he is not the right man.”

To his extreme surprise, Mascarin and Hortebise burst into a fit of unrestrained laughter.

“No,” pursued the lawyer, “this is not the child who was sent to the Hospital of Vendôme, and the Duke will recognize this better than I can. You laugh, but it is because you do not know all.”

“Enough,” returned Mascarin, and then, turning to the doctor, he remarked, “Tell him, my friends, that we know more than he thinks.”

“And so,” said Hortebise, taking Paul’s hand, “you are certain that this is not the lost child because he has not certain marks about him; but these will be seen upon the