The Mystery of the Lost Dauphin Part 4

"No," protested Rene. "We shall not marry until you are rehabilitated.

Amelie would not consent." Amelie extended her hand in approval.

"Not until my father recovers his name and honor may we be happily married, Rene."

"Do as you will," murmured Naundorff. "I will not again buffet Fate, knowing in advance that I shall fall a victim."

He made a signal to the Marquis, who followed him into the bas.e.m.e.nt of the house. It was a species of work-shop, illumined by the dim light of a lantern hanging from the smoky ceiling. On benches were scattered the implements of a watch-maker--springs, pincers, bridges, wires, minute tongs, unmounted watches, others in cases, machinery of various kinds and firearms. Naundorff double-locked the door and then, removing one of the tables, counted the bricks in the wall and, reaching the fifteenth numbering from the floor, he pried it out. A secret compartment was now revealed from which he took a yellow parchment and a small square box with a gold key hanging from it.

"Rene de Giac," said Naundorff solemnly, "I confide this treasure to your unblemished honor. Herein is contained the last gleam of hope for me and my children. To no one have I delivered this ma.n.u.script and casket because my misfortunes have driven away all my friends, a result to be expected from the prediction heard within my prison walls. There have been moments in which I have thought to throw these proofs into the fire, for they seemed valueless, but tonight's episode has put an end to such an inclination. As I do not attain peace by living obscurely; as a dagger continues to be suspended over my head; as my sorrows flood the life of Amelie, my best-loved child--the only being who knows my secret; since, contrary to my desire, I am compelled to defend my rights, I resume the struggle. I shall secretly go to France and if you consider that the testimonials enclosed in that box const.i.tute a solid basis for my claims before a French tribunal, or even before a human tribunal, then I shall proceed to my demands. No longer will I remain silent. But listen to my warning. From the very moment you possess the box and parchment, do not consider yourself safe on earth. Tremble, keep vigils, start in your sleep, trust no man. Treachery will bristle on all sides and spies will track you, to despoil you of the treasure. You look at me amazed and, perhaps, doubt my sanity, but reflect on the a.s.sault of this night. You will not wonder at my warnings when you read the ma.n.u.script. It is a plea addressed to a woman, to her whom I have most loved on earth, excepting my mother and daughter--a woman upon whom may G.o.d have pity! After you have read it, judge whether or no it should be placed in her hands and, if it should, be you the bearer, that the woman may not say she sinned through ignorance.

"As for this casket containing the important doc.u.ments," he added, "conceal it in a crypt beneath French soil or in the bowels of the earth. A time will come when we shall have need of it. Until then, let not your right hand know where the left has hidden it."

"I swear!" said de Breze, "that no man shall track me."

"Transform yourself, Rene. He who becomes my friend must adjust to his face a mask, must envelop himself in mystery--for I am a mystery, an abysmal mystery. Here are my pistols--they are loaded. And now farewell, for you must find a place of safety for these things which in my hands incur grave danger. I shall see you again in Calais where Amelie and I shall be one week from today, if all goes satisfactorily, at the Red Fish Inn. Let us not meet again in London, for we are watched."

"No divining rod shall indicate the cavity beneath French soil where I conceal this treasure," said de Breze. "Permit me now, on leaving, to kiss my lady's hand."

"Go seek her. She is yours."

At eleven, Rene again crossed the solitary park. He approached the square, curious to see if there still remained evidences of the struggle. All was deserted, but a blade gleamed at the foot of a tree, and he took it up in his hand. It was a short, wide knife such as mariners use for cutting fish. As he stooped, the casket dropped from his bosom and struck on the tree. Much alarmed, he replaced it inside his jacket which he securely b.u.t.toned and, pressing his hand to the treasure, he proceeded along Wellington street.

On pa.s.sing a corner to call a cab, he caught sight of two men, those of the a.s.sault, shadowed in a great doorway and watching his movements.

"There goes the throttler," said the thickset fellow, who still wheezed from the pressure of Rene's fingers.

"He carries a box," said the other. "It has a metallic sound and cannot be empty. Shall we fall on him and seize it?"

"Fool! he must be armed. If not, do you think I should let him pa.s.s?"

"He goes toward Wellington."

"Let's follow him now as he followed us. Let's find out who this young aristocrat is that drops from the skies into other men's fights."

And the two ruffians, creeping along in the shadow of the walls, tracked de Breze until he leaped into a cab, giving directions which they overheard. The listeners did not need to incur the expense of another cab.

Rene had failed to heed the warning of Naundorff regarding circ.u.mspection. Just from the arms of Amelie, he floated like one in a trance; his thoughts were all of love.

Chapter V

THE FIRST THREADS OF THE NET

The office of the Superintendent of Police, Baron Lecazes, was an apartment severely sumptuous and furnished in the purest Imperialistic style. The power of the great Napoleon, laid low forever after the ephemeral sway of the Hundred Days, lived still in art. How could the suite of Lecazes be furnished otherwise, when it had been the official headquarters of Fouche, Napoleon's chief minister, the "Great Second" in power and, perhaps, behind the throne's draperies, the "Great First." He had occupied it during the stirring period in which the power of the police department attained its zenith,--Fouche, the only man who in reality knew the history of the epoch.

Lecazes was said to have reaped the harvest of his predecessor's ingenious policy--tangled labyrinths of tunnels, secret pa.s.sages, back stairways, hidden closets, dungeons wherein dangerous citizens kept gloomy vigils while gagged and fettered, awaiting presentation before the all-potent superintendent. There were chiffoniers and garde-robes whose compartments held every variety of disguises. Smothered voices, could they have become audible again, might have told of torture-galleries consummately fitted up, containing indented wheels, Austrian steel-blocks, English p.r.i.c.king-forks, Spanish weights and cords, Prussian metal helmets and other devices no less terrifying. The truth of these rumors cannot be vouched for but it is enough to say that they were disseminated by the Carbonari, whose society was then starting. It has also been said, perhaps rashly, that under the eye of Fouche there existed a chemical laboratory in which a turbaned doctor from the Orient, envoy from the Great Turk, concocted distillations of herbs which induced stupor, insanity or death. However legendary some of these statements may seem, however rash it may be to gainsay the erudite historians who give credit only to what is found in the records, it is well to recognize the fact that some of the most dramatic and highly significant happenings are among those of which all trace has been obliterated.

The private office of Lecazes was reached from the outside by an antechamber with apparently but one entry, that of the rear, leading to the hall and before which hung a green silk portiere brocaded in yellow palms. The walls of the office were covered with green silk laid on in squares and retained in place by carved gilt-edged mahogany strips. The floor was a mosaic of rare and variegated woods which in their natural tints formed a Grecian fret encircling a serpent-locked head of Medusa. There were swan-formed sofas and chairs and stools of artistically wrought bra.s.s, depicting processions of nymphs with airy coiffures, slender necks and beribboned sandals, or groups of cupids bearing hymeneal torches. A splendid bronze railing surrounded the desk on which stood an inkstand with the figure of Laoc.o.o.n struggling in the coils of serpents. The Laoc.o.o.n and the Medusa, strongly suggestive of martyrdom and despair, could not be more fittingly placed. Above the baron's seat, a canopy overhung the portrait of the reigning king, Louis XVIII. Lecazes was seated and although many papers lay before him, he was not busy. His att.i.tude was meditative, his head resting in the left hand, while his right fingered a silver pen tipped with steel. It would have been difficult to cla.s.sify the quality of his meditation--to determine whether it was artful or idle. His face was keenly intelligent and in public it expressed an ingenious frankness, with an affability too unremitting to be sincere, and a smile half abstracted and half mellow, which, when in solitude was replaced by lines of astute and tenacious determination. It was the expression of a man who travels without deviation to his ends.

As superintendent of the restored monarch, he was impelled to display greater vigor than as the superintendent of the great Corsican. In the latter capacity he was guided by a superior genius; in the former he stood back of the throne to guard the government--including himself.

"What would become of them without me?" Lecazes asked himself, on the successful termination of a coup. "It is often necessary to act without consulting. There are questions which must not be asked. I am the contriver. I direct the play and they are the audience. Much cause for congratulation is it if I can prevent them and their vengeful partisans of the south from spoiling the plot."

The baron's reflections were not those of one who seeks a path amid thorns and thistles. They had, rather, to do with the balancing of probabilities and the best way to carry out his purpose. Suddenly he began to arrange the doc.u.ments, some of which he tied together. After extracting and reading a letter over and over, he placed that important paper in his pocket-book.

A project of much consequence agitated his mind, for his hand shook nervously as he took up his pen, and deep furrows lined his brow. Two clocks, standing upon artistic brackets at his right and left respectively, joined their crystalline voices in musical precision. It was two o'clock in the afternoon--time to stop reflecting and go to acting. He struck the bell and inquired of the attendant, who immediately appeared:

"What person waits?"

"Professor Beauliege is in the anteroom."

"Show him in."

A moment later there appeared a man who was a type of the literary-scientific proletariat, such as may always be found in Parisian bookstores, lingering before shelves containing antique works marked at extravagant prices. A greasy looking hat, uncombed hair, coat collar soiled with dandruff, tattered gloves pierced by dirty fingernails, a faded portfolio (apparently full of ma.n.u.scripts) beneath his arm; a shaven face with a peaked nose and myopic eyes which seemed to peer through a dusty web--such were the unpleasing features of Monsieur Beauliege's exterior.

The baron, scarcely looking up, motioned him to a seat. Active and practical himself, he professed for litterateurs a disdain which he made no effort to conceal.

"How does the book come on?" he asked.

"Monsieur le Baron," faltered the poor old fellow, "I make little advance because, as you are well aware, I absolutely lack basis. I have no corroborating doc.u.ments for establishing the boy's demise. I am in ignorance of what transpired during the latter part of his imprisonment and my labor is most arduous since, thanks to the spirit of the age, history seems to be taking on new methods and insisting on indisputable evidences. When I received your summons, I jumped for joy, for I thought you had important doc.u.ments to entrust to me."

"Monsieur Beauliege" replied Lecazes, in slightly repressed irony, "if we possessed the papers that you wish, we should have no need of you. Le diable! In that case I should transfer them to the columns of Le Moniteur. What I expect of your genius and erudite pen is a compilation--do you follow me?--a compilation of, well, of materials conjectural and plausible, tender, affecting, poetic, descriptive of the unhappy prince's life in prison. The theme is pregnant. You have a virgin field and an ample horizon. You are not asked for a romance.

Beware! You must bring forth a historic revelation to serve as a beacon for the future. 'Tis an enterprise which, above all, if believed to have been spontaneously undertaken, will redound to your literary glory. A seat in the Academy shall not be deemed too lofty an honor by way of reward for your distinguished merit."

The word "Academy" caused the savant to leap from his seat and grasp the railing. Lecazes eyed him astutely. This man was not purchasable in money. He had wisely held to him the bait of literary eminence.

"A book of your writing, Monsieur Professeur, does not require much help from doc.u.mentary evidence, since your personal authority is sufficient.

It might, if you were one of those fools who invent narratives having neither head nor tail, but the fact of your being a scholar and a collector of historical ma.n.u.scripts imparts the strength of credibility to your productions. The test of your ability shall consist in imparting stability to a monument without a pedestal. We have unfortunately lost the pedestal."

"I am told," said the professor, "that there exists in the Hospital for Incurables a woman capable of throwing light on this chapter of history. She is the widow of the shoemaker who tortured the wretched little prince. I have decided to interview this woman."

The baron's fist dealt the table a fearful blow.

"With what instrument must I inject into your brain the idea that you are to interview n.o.body except the person or persons to whom I direct you? Is your book to be the recital of old women's garrulities or a dignified exposition?"

The savant drooped his head. The magic charm of membership in the Academy constrained him into a meek submission. Nevertheless, he timidly stammered:

"If only I might possess the death certificate! Resting upon that solitary doc.u.ment, the book would have a basis of adamant. It would suffice to refute conclusively those vile impostors, the cobbler of Rouen, the lackey of Versailles, and the mechanic of Prussia."

Lecazes again a.s.sumed his habitual smile in order to restrain himself from flinging the Laoc.o.o.n inkstand at the savant's head,--the old imbecile, seeking Jerusalem artichokes in the depths of the sea! Then he amiably remonstrated:

"Refrain, my dear Professor, from desiring such evidence, or--renounce your seat in the Academy. You must convince yourself that the aforesaid death certificate has not yet been unearthed, and that it is not yet expedient to record the facsimile. But what does this matter to a sage like yourself?"

Gliding his hand into his pocket, the superintendent extracted a roll of banknotes.