The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 28

"I wish to thank you, young man," said the Marquis, turning to Fanfar, "for saving my life."

Fanfar answered courteously.

"You were in peril. I only did my duty."

"Do not forget that if I can ever serve you, you are to apply to me without hesitation," said the Marquis, and bowing he left the room.

Fanfar and Gudel were now alone.

Cyprien waited for his master, who seized him by the arm and dragged him into the room where they had talked together in the morning.

"Cyprien," he whispered, fiercely, "h.e.l.l has come to our aid; this young man who saved my life, this Fanfar--"

"Well?"

"Is the son of Simon Fougere--the son of my brother!"

My readers will please remember that only Francoise knew the secret of the birth of little Jacques, who was supposed to be the son of Simon.

And of Francoise, the fire had destroyed every trace.

"At last!" exclaimed Cyprien.

"Hush! I have reflected. This young man must die, but his ident.i.ty must be perfectly clear. We require Gudel's testimony, and then, when all this is plain, we can control Labarre."

Cyprien a.s.sented to the wisdom of the plan, but he wished a little delay. He saw evidences of great impatience on the part of the Marquis.

"I am not so simple, sir, as you think. This Gudel is one of the leaders of the conspiracy of which I have told you, and Fanfar is the man on whom these bandits rely to arouse the populace in Paris."

Then in a low voice he told the Marquis how Iron Jaws had then in his possession papers which would prove the whole plot, and give the names of the conspirators.

"Let him fall into the hands of the law," concluded Cyprien, "and the end is certain. We can contrive to give to the plot enormous proportions, and he will be condemned."

The Marquis shrugged his shoulders.

"No, that won't do. We can't rely on these judges. One never knows what whims they may take into their heads."

"But what do you propose?"

Fongereues hesitated.

"Who is this man," he asked, "who has revealed to you the conversation of Gudel and his accomplices?"

"He is a scoundrel named Robeccal, who belongs to their troupe."

The Marquis tore a leaf from his note book, and wrote a few words in haste.

"Take this man with you, and go to Remisemont," he said. "Go to the Comte de Vernac, who is a rabid monarchist. He has vast influence, and this very night the police will be here, these two men will be made prisoners, and I have no doubt they will resist. Then I will attend to the rest; a criminal who resists may be silenced."

Cyprien smiled meaningly.

"Now go, at once, there is no time to be lost. Fanfar must be killed; Gudel must be taken alive. Gudel will tell his story in the court-room.

The Comte de Vernac can never say that the information on which he acted came from me, and without any trouble we shall get rid of the heir of Simon Fougere. Before these same judges, moreover, Labarre shall deliver the will, and tell the secret. Let no one see you and this Robeccal go away together."

"Rely on me."

Before many minutes, Robeccal and Cyprien started off together.

CHAPTER XXII.

POOR BOBICHEL.

More than two hours had elapsed since the departure of the two spies.

The little town of Saint Ame was plunged in profound obscurity. The wind raged down the narrow street, and the roar and rush of the torrent was heard in the distance.

One of the rooms in the inn presented a singular aspect. Caillette lay exhausted on her bed, but she was not asleep; she lay with her eyes wide open thinking of Fanfar. The poor little creature's heart was very sore, but she was too innocent to know why. She felt a vague terror complicated by a certain bitterness. She felt without understanding.

Suddenly, she heard a strange noise. She looked around the room, dimly lighted by a night-lamp. On the floor lay the giantess, who had drank too much brandy. Robeccal had said a few words to her before he went away with the lacquey. She did not seem to understand him, but fell into a doze while he was talking. When she awoke, though by no means herself, she determined to rise from her bed. She did so, and staggered half across the room, then fell on the floor. Half laughing she looked about, and met the surprised, half frightened eyes of Caillette. This was not the first time that the young girl had surprised her in this degraded condition but this time she was more than ever shocked, and shuddered perceptibly.

All at once, the giantess seemed to recognize in Caillette an enemy. She uttered a sound that was almost a growl, and, unable to stand, crawled across the room to the girl's bed.

Caillette recoiled until she could go no further. She wanted to scream, but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.

La Roulante saw her terror, and laughed. Determined to torture the child, she began to talk.

"You want your Fanfar, don't you? Let me tell you that he cares not a sou whether you live or die."

She stopped talking for a few minutes, and seemed to be reflecting.

"No, I won't kill you--it is not worth while. What was it that my little Bob said to me? Where has he gone, I should like to know!"

She repeated these words over and over again. Presently she vaguely recalled what Robeccal had last said to her.

"'He will not be long,' he said, 'he was going--' Where was he going?

Oh! for the police--Gudel and Fanfar had better look out!"

She now crawled away from the bed until she found the brandy bottle, which she drained, all the time saying over and over confused words about the police and papers which would cost two persons their lives.

Although Caillette did not understand, she saw that there was danger, pressing and immediate, for both Gudel and Fanfar. She waited until La Roulante's heavy breathing showed that she was asleep, and then the young girl cautiously crept from her bed and to the door, which, fortunately, was not locked. She hurried to her father's room. Some one lay before the door. She stooped and recognized the faithful clown, who had thus mounted guard.

"Bobichel! I must speak to my father," she whispered.

"What! is it you, little Caillette? Is there trouble?"

"Yes--and not one moment to lose!"