First Person Paramount Part 36

"You have a latch-key, perhaps?" I asked.

"Yes."

I looked steadily at the house for a moment or two, then curtly ordered my companion to proceed, still, however, retaining a firm hold of his arm. Five minutes later we came to the Faubourg Poissonniere. Hailing a _fiacre_, I invited Jussieu to enter, and quickly took a seat beside him. "The Hotel de Louvre!" I shouted to the driver, and we were off.

The negro was so still and docile that I began to suspect him of meditating some plan of escape. Producing my pistol, I thrust the muzzle into his side and c.o.c.ked it with a loud click. "Death is very near to you, Jussieu!" I said.

"For G.o.d's sake, monsieur!" he groaned.

"Sit very still, Jussieu. It has a hair trigger, and my hand is trembling. I am remembering that it was you who pierced my fingers with needles and seared my foot with branding irons!"

"Mercy, mercy! Forgive!" he wailed.

His terror was so sharp and evident that I could not withstand the temptation to play upon it.

"Why should I pardon you?" I demanded. "What mercy did you show to me--you infamous wretch?"

"M'sieur, I was but the tool of others. Do not kill me. For Christ's sake put up your pistol."

"On the contrary, Jussieu," I said in a terrible voice. "Unless you consent to obey me implicitly, you shall die this instant, like the dog you are!"

"Mercy, mercy!" he cried. "I shall do anything you require--anything."

"Will you betray your master?"

"Yes, yes; only, for G.o.d's sake, put up your pistol!"

For answer I thrust the muzzle even harder into his side. "Now," said I, "tell me!" But he uttered a strangled cry.

"M'sieur--I--I--I faint, I die," he gasped, and to my astonishment he lurched forward and fell in a limp heap at my feet. I thought at first it was a trick, and held myself in readiness for a desperate struggle, for in good truth I dared not use my pistol. But the pa.s.sing lamps showed me Jussieu's black face turned almost grey, and his staring eyes hideously upturned. The craven had swooned. I fell back chuckling with delight, for I had been until that moment wondering how on earth I could possibly contrive to force the brute into my hotel in case he should turn rusty and decline to accompany me.

As it eventuated, Jussieu was carried, still unconscious, to my room by two burly porters, whose garrulous surprise, occasioned by so strange a service, I reduced to speechlessness with gold. It was five minutes to eleven when I got rid of them. I locked my door and approached the couch on which the negro lay. He was beginning to wake up. Hastily tearing a linen sheet into strips I succeeded in securely binding his hands and feet before he had properly regained his consciousness. I then fastened him to the couch and stood over him with my pistol c.o.c.ked.

He opened his eyes and blinked up at me.

"In what pocket is the key of your master's door?" I demanded.

"In the right hand side trouser pocket," he answered with a shudder.

"Where is Sir Charles Venner at this moment?"

"At home, monsieur, in bed, I think."

"Does he know that you are out?"

"Yes, m'sieur."

"Where does he sleep?"

"Upstairs, m'sieur, on the second floor, the second room on the left from the head of the staircase."

"Thanks. And who else is there in the house?"

"No--one, m'sieur." He closed his eyes.

"Think, Jussieu!" I growled. "Where is Beudant, your brother negro?"

He did not reply.

"My hand is getting tired," I said coldly. "Let me remind you, Jussieu, that the pistol is furnished with a hair trigger."

The threats galvanised him.

"Beudant sleeps downstairs, on the ground floor," he cried.

"And the others?"

"There are no others, m'sieur."

"You do badly to lie to me, Jussieu. Say your prayers, my man; you have just a minute to live."

His face went grey, and his eyes almost started from his head. "Mercy, mercy!" he groaned. "I shall tell you the whole truth."

"Quickly, then!"

"A lady occupies the third floor with her servants--while my master, Beudant, and I dwell on the second floor----" He paused.

"And the ground floor, Jussieu?" I cried impatiently.

"It contains only living rooms, m'sieur. No one sleeps there."

I nodded, for I saw that he had told me the truth. Unc.o.c.king the revolver I seized it by the barrel and, bending forward, before he could guess of my intention, I struck him a violent blow over the temple with the b.u.t.t. A white man's skull would have been shivered into fragments. Jussieu merely sighed, but a second blow, more powerfully delivered still, rendered him insensible. Forcing his jaws agape, I gagged him with a towel, and afterwards ransacked his pockets. They contained a bunch of keys, a few gold pieces, and a handful of silver.

I had scarcely bestowed his possessions about my person when a knock sounded on the door.

"Who is there?" I demanded, striding forward.

"It is I, monsieur, Bertrand du Gazet," answered a m.u.f.fled voice.

Cautiously opening the door I peered out, and saw standing in the pa.s.sage without the little old man who had taken me to the gambling house. His hands were full of notes and gold.

"It is your money I have brought you as you requested," he observed, smiling genially. "You were foolish to leave so soon, monsieur. Fortune does not often so bountifully confer her favours. See, here are more than seven thousand francs. Indeed, you were wrong to run away, monsieur."

I was in a quandary. I could not admit my unwelcome visitor, and I did not like to drive him away, since he had come to do me a kindness.

Putting on a fine air of frankness, I said to him in low tones: "My dear Du Gazet, I cannot thank you as I ought just now--because I have a visitor, you understand."

An expression of disgust crossed his face. He thought, it seemed, that my visitor was of the fair s.e.x.

"I would not disturb you for the world," he muttered with sarcasm, "but what of your money?"