Robert Tournay Part 40

"Bah. He was always one of the canaille at heart; he only proves my a.s.sertion," and the chevalier took an extra large pinch of snuff and limped off to his mattress of straw.

CHAPTER XIX

TAPPEUR AND PEt.i.tSOU

"What are you bringing us now?" growled a voice from a corner of the cell. Gaillard heard the rustling of straw, but his eyes were not enough accustomed to the gloom to enable him to see what sort of being it was who gave utterance to this harsh welcome.

"Are not two enough in a trap like this?" the speaker went on, rising and coming forward. "There's hardly enough air for us as it is, without your putting in another one."

"So it's you, Tappeur, complaining again," remarked the jailer. "You had better be thankful you're not four in a cell as they are in most of them. The prison is full to overflowing. No matter how many they take out, there's always more to fill their places. You'll have to make the best of it." And he closed the door with an unfeeling slam.

Tappeur brushed some of the straw from his hair and beard. "A plague upon these suspects that fill up our prisons!" he exclaimed with an oath; "we honest criminals have to put up with the vilest accommodations because you crowd us to the wall by force of numbers. You _are_ a suspect, aren't you?" he demanded, coming nearer and putting a dirty face close to Gaillard's.

The cell which they occupied was below the level of the ground. Overhead at the juncture of the ceiling and wall was a grating through which came all the light and air they received.

"You are a suspect, is it not so?" repeated Tappeur as Gaillard made no answer.

"I have not the honor of being an 'honest criminal,'" replied the actor, drawing away with a movement of disgust from the seamed and distorted visage thrust close to his.

"Bah, I thought not," said Tappeur with another oath. "Well, suspect, come over here under the grating and let me take a good look at your face," and he seized Gaillard roughly by the arm.

Tappeur received a violent blow on the chest which sent him reeling into a dark corner of the cell, clutching at the empty air as if to sustain himself by catching hold of the shadows. His fall to the ground was followed by an explosion of oaths in a new voice, in which explosion Tappeur himself joined vigorously.

"I've stirred up a nest of them," said Gaillard to himself, and then stood awaiting developments.

The torrent of profanity having exhausted itself, Tappeur emerged from the shadowy recess of the wall followed by a smaller man.

"How do you like my looks?" inquired Gaillard cheerfully.

"I'm satisfied for the present," replied Tappeur.

"Your fist is hard enough; what may your trade be?"

"I have no regular profession, I'm a little of everything. What's yours?"

"I belong to the 'Brotherhood of the Ready Hand.' Our motto is 'Steal and Kill;' our watchward 'Blood and Death;' and our coat of arms 'A Cord and Gallows.'" And Tappeur chuckled gleefully.

"You are evidently a rare acc.u.mulation of talent and virtue. I should enjoy knowing more of you. Is this a member of your band?" and Gaillard pointed to the man who had just been awakened, and who was yawning and stretching his arms.

"Our band, oh no, this is the great Pet.i.tsou."

"And who is Pet.i.tsou?"

"What! you don't know Pet.i.tsou?" demanded Tappeur pityingly.

"Never heard of him."

"He never even heard of you, Pet.i.tsou!" exclaimed Tappeur, turning to his companion with a gesture of disgust.

Pet.i.tsou shrugged his shoulders in reply, as if to say, "He has been the only loser."

"Pray let me be compensated for my ill fortune, by learning all about you now, Citizen Pet.i.tsou."

"I have made more counterfeit money than any man in France now living, I might say more than any man who ever has lived, but I believe some one or two of the old kings have surpa.s.sed me," said Pet.i.tsou.

"He is an artist," whispered Tappeur; "he does not make you a clumsy, bungling coin only to be palmed off upon women and blind men. He creates an article finer to look at than the government mint can produce.

_Pardieu_, I'd rather have a pocket full of his silver than that bearing either the face of Louis Capet or of this new Republic." And Tappeur looked at his friend the artist admiringly.

"It was when the government issued these a.s.signats that my great fortune was made," continued Pet.i.tsou. "In fact, it was too much success that brought me here. I found them so easy to make that I manufactured them by the wholesale. I stored my cellar with them. I even had the audacity to make the government a small loan in a.s.signats on which I did the entire work myself, reproducing the very signatures of the officials who received the funds. Oh, it was a rare sport."

"But your forgeries were finally detected?" said Gaillard inquiringly.

"The workmanship and the signatures never. I could have gone on making enough to buy up the whole government, but for a mishap. I made a glaring error in the date of a certain issue of a.s.signats. I never liked the new calendar, and always had to take particular care to get it right, but one day my memory slipped up, and I dated a batch of one hundred thousand francs, November 14, 1793, instead of 25th Brumaire, year II. Oh, that was an unpardonable slip, and I deserved to pay the penalty."

"It seems cruel," remarked Gaillard, "to keep a useful member of society, like you, in this filthy dungeon."

"The greatest cruelty is in keeping the materials of my trade away from me. They know my love for my art, and take delight in torturing me.

Although I promise not to try any dodge, they won't trust me. If they would only let me have a little pen, ink, and paper, I should be happy."

"Pen, ink, and paper?" repeated Gaillard. "That's a modest desire."

"They won't let him have them," put in Tappeur. "He'd play them all sorts of tricks. He'd forge all sorts of doc.u.ments, and worry the life out of the jailers."

The door opened a few inches, and a jug of water and a large square loaf made their appearance, pushed in by an invisible hand.

"Let's divide our rations for the day," suggested Pet.i.tsou. "Have they given us a larger loaf, Tappeur, on account of our increased number?"

"But very little larger," replied Tappeur, picking up the loaf of black bread and surveying it hungrily.

"Is that all we receive in the way of food?" asked Gaillard ruefully. He had missed his usual supper after the theatre the night before, and was quite ready for breakfast.

"That's all, unless you've got money. You can buy what you like with that." And Tappeur eyed him slyly out of his deep-set eyes.

"What do you say to some wine in place of this cold water, and some white bread, with perhaps a little sausage added by the way of relish?"

suggested Gaillard mildly.

"Hey, you jailer!" called out Tappeur, frantically rushing toward the door, fearful lest the man might be out of hearing. The jailer retraced his steps reluctantly.

"A commission from the new lodger. A bottle of wine. A white loaf in place of this vile, sour stuff, and some sweet little sausage. A little tobacco also. Am I not right, my comrade?" asked Tappeur, looking at Gaillard inquiringly.

"Some tobacco, of course," nodded Gaillard, producing a coin.

"Have it strong; I have tasted none for so long that it must bite my tongue to make up for lost time. Hurry with thy commissions my good little citizen jailer; the new lodger is hungry, and we, too, have no small appet.i.tes."

"Tobacco," said Pet.i.tsou, "next to ink and paper, I have longed for that. And I have money, too!" and he produced a five-franc piece. "As good a piece of silver as ever rang from the government mint, and yet that cursed jailer refuses to take it, or bring me the smallest portion of tobacco for it. The donkey fears I have manufactured it here on the premises, or that I extracted it from thin air like a magician."