Collected Works of Eugène Sue

by Eugène Sue

  “Well, but to return to my question; why did you appoint to meet the Chourineur at St. Ouen?”

  “Why, you are not so bright as I took you for. How far is it from Pierrefitte to St. Ouen?”

  “About a league.”

  “And from St. Ouen to Paris?”

  “As much.”

  “Well, if I had not found any one at Pierrefitte, — that is, if there had been an empty house there, — why, there also would have been a good job; not so good as in Paris, but still well worth having. I went back to the Chourineur, who was waiting for me at St. Ouen. We should have returned then to Pierrefitte, by a cross-path which I know, and—”

  “I understand. If, on the contrary, the job was to be done in Paris?”

  “We should have gained the Barrier de l’Étoile by the road of the Rivolte, and thence to the Allée des Veuves—”

  “Is but a step; that is plain enough. At St. Ouen you were well placed for either operation, — that was clear; and now I can understand why the Chourineur was at St. Ouen. So the house in the Allée des Veuves will be uninhabited until the day after to-morrow?”

  “Uninhabited, except the porter.”

  “I see. And is it a profitable job?”

  “Sixty thousand francs in gold in the proprietor’s cabinet.”

  “And you know all the ways?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “Silence, here we are; not a word before the vulgar. I do not know if you feel as I do, but the morning air has given me an appetite.”

  The Chouette was awaiting them at the door.

  “This way; this way,” she said. “I have ordered our breakfast.”

  Rodolph wished the brigand to pass in first, for certain reasons; but the Schoolmaster insisted on showing so much politeness, that Rodolph entered before him. Before he sat down, the Schoolmaster tapped lightly against each of the divisions of the wainscot, that he might ascertain their thickness and power of transmitting sounds.

  “We need not be afraid to speak out,” said he; “the division is not thin. We shall have our breakfast soon, and shall not be disturbed in our conversation.”

  A waiter brought in the breakfast, and before he shut the door Rodolph saw the charcoal-man, Murphy, seated with great composure at a table in a room close at hand.

  The room in which the scene took place that we are describing was long and narrow, lighted by one window, which looked into the street, and was opposite to the door. The Chouette turned her back to this window, whilst the Schoolmaster was at one side of the table, and Rodolph on the other.

  When the servant left the room, the brigand got up, took his plate, and seated himself beside Rodolph and between him and the door.

  “We can talk better,” he said, “and need not talk so loud.”

  “And then you can prevent me from going out,” replied Rodolph, calmly.

  The Schoolmaster gave a nod in the affirmative, and then, half drawing out of the pocket of his frock coat a stiletto, round and as thick as a goose’s quill, with a handle of wood which disappeared in the grasp of his hairy fingers, said:

  “You see that?”

  “I do.”

  “Advice to amateurs!” And bringing his shaggy brows together, by a frown which made his wide and flat forehead closely resemble a tiger’s, he made a significant gesture.

  “And you may believe me,” added the Chouette, “I have made the tool sharp.”

  Rodolph, with perfect coolness, put his hand under his blouse, and took out a double-barrelled pistol, which he showed to the Schoolmaster, and then put into his pocket.

  “All right; and now we understand each other; but do not misunderstand me, I am only alluding to an impossibility. If they try to arrest me, and you have laid any trap for me, I will make ‘cold meat’ of you.”

  And he gave a fierce look at Rodolph.

  “And I will spring upon him and help you, fourline,” cried the Chouette.

  Rodolph made no reply, but shrugged his shoulders, and, pouring out a glass of wine, tossed it off. His coolness deceived the Schoolmaster.

  “I only put you on your guard.”

  “Well, then, put up your ‘larding-pin’ into your pocket; you have no chicken to lard now. I am an old cock, and know my game as well as most,” said Rodolph. “But, to our business.”

  “Yes, let us talk of business; but do not speak against my ‘larding-pin;’ it makes no noise, and does not disturb anybody.”

  “And does its work as should be; doesn’t it, fourline?” added the old beldam.

  “By the way,” said Rodolph to the Chouette, “do you really know the Goualeuse’s parents?”

  “My man has in his pocket two letters about it, but she shall never see them, — the little slut! I would rather tear her eyes out with my own hands. Oh, when I meet her again at the tapis-franc, won’t I pay her off—”

  “There, that’ll do, Finette; we have other things to talk of, and so leave off your gossip.”

  “May we ‘patter’ before the ‘mot?’” asked Rodolph.

  “Most decidedly! She’s true as steel, and is worth her weight in gold to watch for us, to get information or impressions of keys, to conceal stolen goods or sell them, — nothing comes amiss to her. She is a first-rate manager. Good Finette!” added the robber, extending his hand to the horrid hag. “You can have no idea of the services she has done me. Take off your shawl, Finette, or you’ll be cold when you go out; put it on the chair with your basket.”

  The Chouette took off her shawl.

  In spite of his presence of mind, and the command which he had over himself, Rodolph could not quite conceal his surprise when he saw suspended by a ring of silver, from a thick chain of metal which hung round the old creature’s neck, a small Saint Esprit in lapis lazuli, precisely resembling that which the son of Madame Georges had round his neck when he was carried off.

  At this discovery, a sudden idea flashed across the mind of Rodolph. According to the Chourineur’s statement, the Schoolmaster had escaped from the Bagne six months ago, and had since defied all search after him by disfiguring himself as he had now; and six months ago the husband of Madame Georges had disappeared from the Bagne. Rodolph surmised that, very possibly, the Schoolmaster was the husband of that unhappy lady. If this were so, he knew the fate of the son she lamented, — he possessed, too, some papers relative to the birth of the Goualeuse. Rodolph had, then, fresh motives for persevering in his projects, and, fortunately, his absence of mind was not observed by the Schoolmaster, who was busy helping the Chouette.

  “Morbleu! What a pretty chain you have!” said Rodolph to the one-eyed woman.

  “Pretty, and not dear,” answered the old creature, laughing. “It is only a sham till my man can afford to give me a real one.”

  “That will depend on this gentleman, Finette. If our job comes off well, why then—”

  “It is astonishing how well it is imitated,” continued Rodolph. “And what is that little blue thing at the end?”

  “It is a present from my man, which I shall wear until he gives me a ‘ticker.’ Isn’t it, fourline?”

  Rodolph’s suspicions were thus half confirmed, and he waited with anxiety for the reply of the Schoolmaster, who said:

  “You must take care of that, notwithstanding the ‘ticker,’ Finette; it is a talisman, and brings good luck.”

  “A talisman!” said Rodolph, in a careless tone; “do you believe in talismans? And where the devil did you pick it up? Give me the address of the shop.”

  “They do not make them now; the shop is shut up. As you see it, that bit of jewelry has a very great antiquity, — three generations. I value it highly, for it is a family loom,” added he, with a hideous grin; “and that’s why I gave it to Finette, that she might have good fortune in the enterprises in which she so skilfully seconds me. Only see her at work! only see her! If we go into ‘business’ together, why — But let us now to our affair in hand. You say that in the Allée des Veuves—”


  “At No. 17 there is a house inhabited by a rich man, whose name is—”

  “I will not be guilty of the indiscretion of asking his name. You say there are sixty thousand francs in gold in a cabinet?”

  “Sixty thousand francs in gold!” exclaimed the Chouette.

  Rodolph nodded his head in the affirmative.

  “And you know this house, and the people in it?” said the Schoolmaster.

  “Quite well.”

  “Is the entry difficult?”

  “A wall seven feet high on the side of the Allée des Veuves, a garden, windows down to the ground, and the house has only the ground floor throughout.”

  “And there is only the porter to guard this treasure?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what, young man, is your proposed plan of proceeding?”

  “Simple enough: to climb over the wall, pick the lock of the door, or force open a shutter or lock. What do you think of it?”

  “I cannot answer you before I have examined it all myself, — that is, by the aid of my wife; but, if all you tell me is as you say, I think it would be the thing to do it at once this evening.”

  And the ruffian looked earnestly at Rodolph.

  “This evening! — impossible!” replied he.

  “Why, since the occupier does not return until the day after to-morrow?”

  “Yes, but I — I cannot this evening—”

  “Really? Well, and I — I cannot to-morrow.”

  “Why not?”

  “For the reason that prevents you this evening,” said the robber, in a tone of mockery.

  After a moment’s reflection, Rodolph replied:

  “Well, then, this evening be it. Where shall we meet?”

  “We will not separate,” said the Schoolmaster.

  “Why not?”

  “Why should we?”

  “What is the use of separating? The weather has cleared up, and we will go and walk about, and give a look at the Allée des Veuves; you will see how my woman will work. When that is done, we will return and play a hand at piquet, and have a bit of something in a place in the Champs Elysées that I know, near the river; and, as the Allée des Veuves is deserted at an early hour, we will walk that way about ten o’clock.”

  “I will join you at nine o’clock.”

  “Do you or do you not wish that we should do this job together?”

  “I do wish it.”

  “Well, then, we do not separate before evening, or else—”

  “Or else?”

  “I shall think that you are making ‘a plant’ for me, and that’s the reason you wish to part company now.”

  “If I wished to set the ‘traps’ after you, what is to prevent my doing so this evening?”

  “Why, everything. You did not expect that I should propose the affair to you so soon, and if you do not leave us you cannot put anybody up to it.”

  “You mistrust me, then?”

  “Most extremely. But as what you propose may be quite true and honest, and the half of sixty thousand francs is worth a risk, I am willing to try for it; but this evening, or never; if never, I shall have my suspicions of you confirmed, and one day or other I will take care and let you dine off a dish of my cooking.”

  “And I will return your compliment, rely on it.”

  “Oh, this is all stuff and nonsense!” said the Chouette. “I think with fourline, to-night or never.”

  Rodolph was in a state of extreme anxiety; if he allowed this opportunity to escape of laying hands on the Schoolmaster, he might never again light on him. The ruffian would ever afterwards be on his guard, or if recognised, apprehended, and taken back to the Bagne, would carry with him that secret which Rodolph had so much interest in discovering. Confiding in his address and courage, and trusting to chance, he said to the Schoolmaster:

  “Agreed, then; and we will not part company before evening.”

  “Then I’m your man. It is now two o’clock; it is some distance from here to the Allée des Veuves; it is raining again in torrents; let us pay the reckoning and take a coach.”

  “If we have a coach, I should like first to smoke a cigar.”

  “Why not?” said the Schoolmaster. “Finette does not mind the smell of tobacco.”

  “Well, then, I’ll go and fetch some cigars,” said Rodolph, rising.

  “Pray don’t give yourself that trouble,” said the Schoolmaster, stopping him; “Finette will go.”

  Rodolph resumed his seat. The Schoolmaster had penetrated his design. The Chouette went out.

  “What a clever manager I have, haven’t I?” said the ruffian; “and so tractable, she would throw herself into the fire for me.”

  “Apropos of fire, it is not overwarm here,” replied Rodolph, placing both his hands under his blouse; and then, continuing his conversation with the Schoolmaster, he took out a lead-pencil and a morsel of paper, which he had in his waistcoat pocket, without being detected, and wrote some words hastily, taking care to make his letters wide apart, so that they might be more legible; for he wrote under his blouse, and without seeing what he wrote.

  This note escaped the penetration of the Schoolmaster; the next thing was to enable it to reach its address.

  Rodolph rose and went listlessly towards the window, and began to hum a tune between his teeth, accompanying himself on the window glasses.

  The Schoolmaster came up to the window and said to Rodolph:

  “What tune are you playing?”

  “I am playing ‘Tu n’auras pas ma rose.’”

  “And a very pretty tune it is. I should like to know if it would have the effect of making any of the passers-by turn round?”

  “I had no such intention.”

  “You are wrong, young man; for you are playing the tambourine on that pane of glass with all your might. But I was thinking, the porter of this house in the Allée des Veuves is perhaps a stout fellow; if he resists, you have only your pistol, which is a noisy weapon, whilst a tool like this (and he showed Rodolph the handle of his poniard) makes no noise, and does not disturb anybody.”

  “Do you mean, then, to assassinate him?” exclaimed Rodolph. “If you have any such intention, let us give up the job altogether; I will have no hand in it, — so don’t rely on me—”

  “But if he wakes?”

  “We will take to our heels.”

  “Well, just as you like; only it is better to come to a clear understanding beforehand. So, then, ours is simply a mere robbery with forcible entry—”

  “Nothing more.”

  “That’s very silly and contemptible; but so be it.”

  “And as I will not leave you for a second,” thought Rodolph, “I will prevent you from shedding blood.”

  CHAPTER XIII.

  PREPARATIONS.

  THE CHOUETTE RETURNED to the room, bringing the cigars with her.

  “I don’t think it rains now,” said Rodolph, lighting his cigar. “Suppose we go and fetch the coach ourselves, — it will stretch our legs.”

  “What! not rain!” replied the Schoolmaster; “are you blind? Do you think I will expose Finette to the chance of catching cold, and exposing her precious life, and spoiling her new shawl?”

  “You are right, old fellow; it rains cats and dogs. Let the servant come and we can pay him, and desire him to fetch us a coach,” replied Rodolph.

  “That’s the most sensible thing you have said yet, young fellow; we may go and look about as we seek the Allée des Veuves.”

  The servant entered, and Rodolph gave her five francs.

  “Ah, sir, it is really an imposition, — I cannot allow it,” exclaimed the Schoolmaster.

  “Oh, all right; your turn next time.”

  “Be it so, but on condition that I shall offer you something, by and by, in a little cabaret in the Champs Elysées, — a capital little snuggery that I know of.”

  “Just as you like.”

  The servant paid, and they left the room.

  Rodolph wished t
o go last, out of politeness to the Chouette, but the Schoolmaster would not allow it, and followed close on his heels, watching his every movement.

  The master of the house kept a wine-shop also, and amongst other drinkers, a charcoal-man, with his face blackened and his large hat flapping over his eyes, was paying his “shot” at the bar when these three personages appeared. In spite of the close lookout of the Schoolmaster and the one-eyed hag, Rodolph, who walked before the hideous pair, exchanged a rapid and unperceived glance with Murphy as he got into the hackney-coach.

  “Which way am I to go, master?” asked the driver.

  Rodolph replied, in a loud voice:

  “Allée des—”

  “Des Acacias, in the Bois de Boulogne,” cried the Schoolmaster, interrupting him. Then he added, “And we will pay you well, coachman.”

  The door was shut.

  “What the devil made you bawl out which way we were going before these people?” said the Schoolmaster. “If the thing were found out to-morrow, we might be traced and discovered. Young man, — young man, you are very imprudent!”

  The coach was already in motion. Rodolph answered:

  “True; I did not think of that. But with my cigar I shall smoke you like herrings; let us have a window open.”

  And, joining the action to the words, Rodolph, with much dexterity, let fall outside the window the morsel of paper, folded very small, on which he had hastily written a few words in pencil under his blouse. The Schoolmaster’s glance was so quick, that, in spite of the calmness of Rodolph’s features, the ruffian detected some expression of triumph, for, putting his head out of the window, he called out to the driver:

  “Whip behind! whip behind! there is some one getting up at the back of the coach!”

  The coach stopped, and the driver, standing on his seat, looked back, and said:

  “No, master, there is no one there.”

  “Parbleu! I will look myself,” replied the Schoolmaster, jumping out into the street.