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CHAPTER XXV
Dr. Legrand slept late on this Saturday morning; his dreams had been pleasant, and he hastily descended to his study, his face beaming, his body tingling with excitement. The regret which he had expressed last night, and really felt in his own limited fashion, was gone; how could he feel regret when in a short hour or two he was destined to handle so much money?
As he went to his study a servant stopped him.
"Monsieur, monsieur, we have only just discovered, but Mademoiselle St. Clair—"
"Yes, yes; what about her?"
"Gone, monsieur."
"Gone!"
The doctor staggered back against the wall, his face working in a sudden convulsion. It was as though the servant had struck him a heavy blow between the eyes.
"Yes, monsieur. Her bed has not been slept in. The Marquis de Castellux is not to be found either. We have inquired among the guests. No one has seen them since they left the salon last night."
No articulate word came from Legrand, only a growl like that of an angry animal. He rushed to mademoiselle's room, then to the one Monsieur de Castellux had occupied temporarily. In a few moments the house was being searched from cellar to garret, every room was entered, whether the guests expostulated or not, but there was no sign of the fugitives, nor anything to show how they had gone. No one noticed that the window at the end of the passage had been unfastened.
A little later Dr. Legrand hurried along the Rue Charonne, caring nothing that people looked after him. He was a doctor of lunatics, they said, possibly he had gone mad himself. They laughed and took no further notice of him. He traversed several streets in the Faubourg St. Antoine, evidently familiar ground to him, and presently entered a tumbledown tenement. Going hastily to the top floor, he knocked with his knuckles at a closed door, two low, single knocks, and a double one. It was evidently a signal, for the door was opened at once and Lucien Bruslart stood before him.
"So soon!" he exclaimed.
Legrand entered, pushing Bruslart back into the room, and shut the door.
"She's gone! Escaped! Last night!"
Bruslart showed no sign of surprise. He sat on the edge of the table and waited for more information. Legrand had no more to give. In his hurried journey from the Rue Charonne he had thought of many things, and now made no mention of the fact that another of his guests had also disappeared.
"How did she manage to escape out of your clutches?" asked Bruslart, after a pause.
"I don't know, and does it matter? She is gone, that is enough."
"Bad for you, Legrand. She will explain how she came to be in your house, and your friends will be asking why you took any one they did not send to you. An awkward question, Legrand."
"I shall easily answer that. The difficulty is for you, my friend. How will you explain your dealings with an aristocrat for whom all Paris is hunting?"
"More easily perhaps than you imagine."
"You cannot, you cannot. I am the only man who can help you."
"Your help does not seem very effectual, does it?" said Bruslart. "You were to have come this morning with certain papers assuring me that a certain troublesome person was in the hands of the authorities, and in return you were to receive a certain fee. Well, you have no papers, therefore you get no fee."
"But what will you do?"
"Wait here. I have been safe so far."
"It is impossible," said Legrand. "I shall be asked questions, I shall have to answer them. I know Citizen Bruslart as a good patriot. He brings me a lady to take charge of. What could I do but obey? I shall be asked where Citizen Bruslart is now."
"I see you contemplate betraying me, is that it?"
"No, no, but I must answer questions."
"How do you propose to help betraying me then?" Bruslart asked.
"Now you are sensible. We must work together, is it not so? Paris is dangerous for you. You are a rich man and the place for you is across the frontier. A friend of mine, a good citizen, has for days been ready to travel at a moment's notice, and will take a servant with him. He has papers that cannot be questioned for himself and for you, his servant. He goes by way of Metz and then to Valenciennes. You will slip across the frontier into Belgium. You have heard of the inn, on that road, La Houlette. Once there you may throw away your cockade and become again a nobleman. It is your métier, my friend, you were never intended for a patriot. And now that you have money what better could you wish for?"
"It is an attractive programme, and I am a little tired of this cockloft," answered Bruslart. "How is it to be managed?"
"In an hour I will be back with all that is necessary to alter your dress and appearance. In two hours you may commence your journey."
"Very well, my good Legrand, I shall expect you in an hour."
"Yes, but the money," said the doctor. "I run a risk, and my friend must also be paid."
"Anything that is reasonable."
"Oh, it is reasonable."
"What is the figure?" Bruslart asked.
"I think I can arrange everything if you give me the fee I was to have had for the papers you expected me to bring this morning."
"Nonsense, Legrand. That fee is nearly half of my fortune."
"Mademoiselle's fortune," corrected Legrand.
The two men looked at each other, and understood each other well. Bruslart knew that the doctor was quite prepared to betray him if he did not come to his terms. Legrand knew that Bruslart was in dire straits, and that once in the hands of the Convention his doom was sealed. In one sense the doctor was the more honest of the two. He could do what he said with every prospect of success, and was prepared to fulfill his bargain to the letter. Bruslart was already planning how he could overreach his companion.
"It is a monstrous price to pay."
"It saves you from the guillotine," answered Legrand.
"Very well, I'll pay it," said Bruslart, after a moment's thought.
"Quickly, then. I will go at once. Give me the money."
"A bargain is a bargain, my good doctor, and I do not part with my money until you have completed your work. I shall expect you in an hour."
Legrand hesitated.
"I cannot get away," said Bruslart, "but there is a possibility that you might not return."
"You are over careful," was the answer.
"I have my head to consider," Bruslart laughed. "No man pays the doctor before he has taken his physic."
The doctor laughed too, it was the only way to deal with such a man, and departed. Bruslart could not escape him. The money was already as good as in his hands. Bruslart once out of Paris, Legrand could answer any question the officers of the Convention might put to him. He had done as Citizen Bruslart had commanded him, what else could he have done? Monsieur Fouquier-Tinville and others could not say much, they were too interested in his establishment. Besides, although mademoiselle had escaped from his house, it was most unlikely that she could leave Paris. She would be found.
Bruslart locked his door when the doctor had gone. Before the doctor he had shown no anger, no agitation, but alone, he was like an animal caught in a trap. For this money he had schemed, lied, and betrayed an innocent woman; he had just enough conscience to hate the remembrance of all he had done, and now half the reward of his treachery was to be filched from him. For a moment he was tempted to go before Legrand returned, but he was afraid. Legrand had the whip hand of him. Could he cheat him? The opportunity might come at the last moment. How could it be done?
He was deep in a dozen plans which came in a chaotic confusion into his mind, when there was a knock at the door, two low, single knocks followed a double one, Legrand's signal. An hour had not passed. Legrand had returned quickly. What had happened? He opened the door, then started back.
"Pauline!"
For a moment she stood on the threshold apparently with some feeling for the dramatic effect in her attitude, then she entered and closed the door.
"Yes, Pauline," she said.
Bruslart had been taken unawares; he had unfortunately allowed the woman to see his surprise, and cursed his folly as he regained his equanimity with an effort.
"You are welcome, Pauline, as welcome as—"
"As the devil," she answered. "No, I want to do the talking. You sit down and listen."
"Nothing will please me better," Bruslart returned, smiling. "I have been forced to go into hiding, and have lost touch with events."
"And I have been in prison."
"In prison! You!"
"Strange, isn't it? I dare say the story will interest you, but there are other things to talk of first. What has forced you into hiding?"
"Circumstances and Raymond Latour," he answered.
"And why should you keep your hiding-place a secret from me?"
"I will explain. It is rather a long story, and—"
"And I do not want to hear it," she said. "I know. It is not a pretty story. To save one woman you sacrifice another, and in the end are false to both."
"What nonsense have you been told, Pauline?"
"I have been told very little, perhaps only know part of the tale even now, but it is sufficient. I only found out your hiding-place on Wednesday night. On Thursday and Friday, Citizen Legrand was with you. By your contriving Mademoiselle St. Clair was in hiding. A large part of her money was in your hands, and she was in your way, so Legrand was instructed to send word to the Convention that one Richard Barrington, an American, had contrived by false representation to place her in Legrand's house for safety, and the doctor, suddenly discovering the falsehood, was to prove himself a good patriot and give her up. So Lucien Bruslart, by paying the doctor, was to get rid of a troublesome woman and retire to Belgium."
"I do not know who can have told you such a story."
"There are many spies in Paris," she answered with a short laugh. "But that is not all the tale. Yesterday you were very confidential with Citizen Legrand. You told him of another woman who was in love with you, and was troublesome, or would be if she knew where to find you. You had promised to marry her, a promise to the pretty fool which you did not intend to keep. It amused you to think how furious Pauline Vaison would be when she found out you had gone."
"So that devil Legrand has been talking, has he?"
"Poor Lucien! Do you imagine you are the only scoundrel in Paris?"
"Scoundrel! Why, you pretty fool—it is your own expression, so let me use it—do you imagine I should tell the truth to Legrand? His own cupidity ruins him. Half the tale is true, the other half—why, Pauline, is it not the very scheme I told you of? I had hoped to rise to power in Paris; that I cannot do, but I have the money, and Pauline Vaison will join me across the Belgian frontier."
"You only have half the money, Lucien, Legrand is to have the other half. It is his little fee."
"Now you have come we may cheat him," said Bruslart, quickly.
"Yes, a very excellent plan, but it won't work, my friend. I had none of this story from Legrand. Your money holds him faithful. He will be back in an hour, and in two hours you may perhaps be out of Paris."
Bruslart looked at her, realizing the full extent of his danger for the first time.
"That is an awkward riddle for you to read, isn't it?" she said. "It is an unpleasant position, as unpleasant as mine when they arrested me in the place of Mademoiselle St. Clair, and my lover took no steps to set the mistake right; as unpleasant as when my escape from the Abbaye forced you to hide from me. That is why you ran away, Lucien. You were afraid of me. Now I have found you, and mademoiselle has really escaped out of your clutches. It is a very awkward position, Lucien. I do not see how you are going to wriggle out of it."
"The way is plain, let us arrange everything before Legrand returns," said Bruslart.
"There is nothing to arrange. This little cockloft does not fill the whole of this upper story. There is another attic on the other side of that partition, with a cupboard in it. Standing in the cupboard, with the ear against the woodwork, one can hear all that is said here, and if you look in that partition you will find a crack, through which nearly the whole of this place can be seen. You may take my word for it, I have lived on the other side since Wednesday night. Your own servant betrayed your hiding-place to me, for a ridiculously small sum. Your worth is not great even in his eyes."
"Be sensible, Pauline. I will—"
"Pay me for secrecy? Will you give me the other half of mademoiselle's money?"
"I said, be sensible. Come with me, join me on the road to the frontier. It is what I have intended all along."
"It's a lie!"
The woman was suddenly alive with passion—dangerous, and Bruslart knew it.
"You are not polite," he said.
"I am better than that; I am honest."
"Be sensible as well. The time is short. Sit down and let us arrange quickly."
"I have told you, there is nothing to arrange," she answered.
"Once for all, will you come? Yes or no," he said angrily.
"No."
"What are you going to do?"
"Pay, Lucien, pay. Legrand will return, but he will not find you."
"You she-devil!"
The words were hissed out as he sprang toward her. It was his life or hers. There was no other alternative. Murder was in his hands, in his soul. She realized this and even as he touched her, she cried out—
"Help! Help, citizens!"
In a moment the door was thrown open and Lucien Bruslart was in the hands of the officers of the Convention, crouching in their grasp, white and afraid, too terrified even to curse his betrayer.
"The payment, Lucien! I warned you. I keep my promise. For you it is the Place de la Revolution—the guillotine."
The words were shouted at him savagely, and then she leaned back against the wall in a paroxysm of horrible laughter.