Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo

by William Le Queux

  TENTH CHAPTER

  A LESSON IN ARGOT

  Late one evening the dainty girl thief, Lisette, went out for a strollwith Hugh, but in the Via Roma they met an agent of police.

  "Look!" whispered the girl in French, "there's a _pince sans rire_! Becareful!"

  She constantly used the argot of French thieves, which was oftendifficult for the young Englishman to understand. And the dark-hairedgirl would laugh, apologize, and explain the meaning of her strangeexpressions.

  Outside the city they were soon upon the high road which wound up thedeep green valley of the Bisagno away into the mountains, ever ascendingto the little hill-town of Molassana. The scene was delightful in themoonlight as they climbed the steep hill and then descended againinto the valley, Lisette all the time gossiping on in a manner whichinterested and amused him.

  Her arrival had put an end to his boredom, and, though he was longing toget away from his surroundings, she certainly cheered him up.

  They had walked for nearly an hour, when, declaring she felt tired,they sat upon a rock to rest and eat the sandwiches with which they hadprovided themselves.

  Two carabineers in cloaks and cocked hats who met them on the road putthem down as lovers keeping a clandestine tryst. They never dreamed thatfor both of them the police were in search.

  "Now tell me something concerning yourself, mademoiselle," Hugh urgedpresently.

  "Myself! Oh! la la!" she laughed. "What is there to tell? I am just of_la haute pegre--a truqueuse_. Ah! you will not know the expression.Well--I am a thief in high society. I give indications where we canmake a coup, and afterwards _bruler le pegriot_--efface the trace of theaffair."

  "And why are you here?"

  "_Malheureusement_! I was in Orleans and a _friquet_ nearly captured me.So Il Passero sent me here for a while."

  "You help Il Passero--eh?"

  "Yes. Very often. Ah! m'sieur, he is a most wonderful man--English, Ithink. _Girofle_ (genteel and amiable), like yourself."

  "No, no, mademoiselle," Hugh protested, laughing.

  "But I mean it. Il Passero is a real gentleman--but--_maquiller sontruc_, and he is marvellous. When he exercises his wonderful talent andforms a plan it is always flawless."

  "Everyone seems to hold him in high esteem. I have never met him," Hughremarked.

  "He was in Genoa on the day that I arrived. Curious that he did not calland see Beppo. I lunched with him at the Concordia, and he paid me fivethousand francs, which he owed me. He has gone to London now with his_ecrache-tarte_."

  "What is that, pray?"

  "His false passport. He has always a good supply of them for anyonein need of one. They are printed secretly in Spain. But m'sieur," sheadded, "you are not of our world. You are in just a little temporarytrouble. Over what?"

  In reply he was perfectly frank with her. He told her of the suspicionagainst him because of the affair of the Villa Amette.

  "Ah!" she replied, her manner changing, "I have heard that Mademoisellewas shot, but I had no idea that you had any connexion with that uglybusiness."

  "Yes. Unfortunately I have. Do you happen to know Yvonne Ferad?"

  "Of course. Everyone knows her. She is very charming. Nobody knows thetruth."

  "What truth?" inquired Hugh quickly.

  "Well--that she is a _marque de ce_."

  "A _marque de ce_--what is that?" asked Hugh eagerly.

  "Ah! _non_, m'sieur. I must not tell you anything against her. You areher friend."

  "But I am endeavouring to find out something about her. To me she is amystery."

  "No doubt. She is to everybody."

  "What did you mean by that expression?" he demanded. "Do tell me. I amvery anxious to know your opinion of her, and something about her. Ihave a very earnest motive in trying to discover who and what she reallyis."

  "If I told you I should offend Il Passero," replied the girl simply. "Itis evident that he wishes you should remain in ignorance."

  "But surely, you can tell me in confidence? I will divulge nothing."

  "No," answered the girl, whose face he could not see in the shadow. "Iam sorry, M'sieur Brown"--she had not been told his Christian name--"butI am not permitted to tell you anything concerning Mademoiselle Yvonne."

  "She is a very remarkable person--eh?" said Henfrey, again defeated.

  "Remarkable! Oh, yes. She is of the _grande monde_."

  "Is that still your argot?" he asked.

  "Oh no. Mademoiselle Yvonne is a lady. Some say she is the daughter of arich Englishman. Others say she is just a common adventuress."

  "The latter is true, I suppose?"

  "I think not. She has _le clou_ for the _eponge d'or_."

  "I do not follow that."

  "Well," she laughed, "she has the attraction for those who hold thegolden sponge--the Ministers of State. Our argot is difficult for you,m'sieur--eh?"

  "I see! Your expressions are a kind of cipher, unintelligible to theordinary person--eh?"

  "That is so. If I exclaim, _par exemple, tarte_, it means false; if Isay _gilet de flanelle_, it is lemonade; if I say _frise_, it means aJew; or _casserole_, which is in our own tongue a police officer. Soyou see it is a little difficult--is it not? To us _tire-jus_ is ahandkerchief, and we call the ville de Paris _Pantruche_."

  Hugh sat in wonder. It was certainly a strange experience to be ona moonlight ramble with a girl thief who had, according to her ownconfession, been born in Paris the daughter of a man who was still oneof Il Passero's clever and desperate band.

  "Yes, m'sieur," she said a few moments later. "They are all dangerous.They do not fear to use the knife or automatic pistol when cornered.For myself, I simply move about Europe and make discoveries as to wherelittle affairs can be negotiated. I tell Il Passero, and he then worksout the plans. _Dieu_! But I had a narrow escape the other day inOrleans!"

  "Do tell me about Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. I beg of you to tell mesomething, Mademoiselle Lisette," Hugh urged, turning to the girl ofmany adventures who was seated at his side upon the big rock overlookingthe ravine down which the bright moon was shining.

  "I would if I were permitted," she replied. "Mademoiselle Yvonne ischarming. You know her, so I need say nothing, but----"

  "Well--what?"

  "She is clever--very clever," said the girl. "As Il Passero is clever,so is she."

  "Then she is actively associated with him--eh?"

  "Yes. She is cognizant of all his movements, and of all his plans. Whileshe moves in one sphere--often in a lower sphere, like myself--yet insociety she moves in the higher sphere, and she 'indicates,' just as Ido."

  "So she is one of The Sparrow's associates?" Hugh said.

  "Yes," was the reply. "From what you have told me I gather that IlPassero knew by one of his many secret sources of information that youwere in danger of arrest, and sent Paolo to rescue you--which he did."

  "No doubt that is so. But why should he take all this interest in me? Idon't know and have never even met him."

  "Il Passero is always courteous. He assists the weak against the strong.He is like your English bandit Claude Duval of the old days. He alwaysrobs with exquisite courtesy, and impresses the same trait upon all whoare in his service. And I may add that all are well paid and all devotedto their great master."

  "I have heard that he has a house in London," Hugh said. "Do you knowwhere it is situated?"

  "Somewhere near Piccadilly. But I do not know exactly where it is. He isalways vague regarding his address. His letters he receives in severalnames at a newspaper shop in Hammersmith and at the Poste Restante atCharing Cross."

  "What names?" asked Hugh, highly interested.

  "Oh! a number. They are always being changed," the French girl replied.

  "Where do you write when you want to communicate with him?"

  "Generally to the Poste Restante in the Avenue de l'Opera, in Paris.Letters received there are collected for him and forwarded every day."

  "And so clever is he that
nobody suspects him--eh?"

  "Exactly, m'sieur. His policy is always '_Rengraciez_!' and he cares nota single _rotin_ for _La Reniffe_," she replied, dropping again into theslang of French thieves.

  "Of course he is on friendly terms with Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo?"Hugh remarked. "He may have been at Monte Carlo on the night of thetragic affair."

  "He may have been. He was, no doubt, somewhere on the Riviera, and hesent Paolo in one of the cars to rescue you from the police."

  "In that case, he at least knows that I am innocent."

  "Yes. And he probably knows the guilty person. That would account forthe interest he takes in you, though you do not know him," said Lisette."I have known Il Passero perform many kindly acts to persons in distresswho have never dreamed that they have received money from a notoriousinternational thief."

  "Well, in my case he has, no doubt, done me signal service," youngHenfrey replied. "But," he added, "why cannot you tell me somethingmore concerning Mademoiselle? What did you mean by saying that she wasa _marque de ce_? I know it is your slang, but won't you explain what itmeans? You have explained most of your other expressions."

  But the girl thief was obdurate. She was certainly a _chic_ and engaginglittle person, apparently well educated and refined, but she was as slyas her notorious employer, whom she served so faithfully. She was, shehad already told Hugh, the daughter of a man who had made jewel theftshis speciality and after many convictions was now serving ten years atthe convict prison at Toulon. She had been bred in the Montmartre, andtrained and educated to a criminal life. Il Passero had found her, and,after several times successfully "indicating" where coups could be made,she had been taken into his employment as a decoy, frequently travellingon the international _wagon-lits_ and restaurants, where she succeededin attracting the attention of men and holding them in conversationwith a mild flirtation while other members of the gang investigated thecontents of their valises. From one well-known diamond dealer travellingbetween Paris and Amsterdam, she and the man working with her hadstolen a packet containing diamonds of the value of two hundred thousandfrancs, while from an English business man travelling from Boulogne toParis, two days later, she had herself taken a wallet containing nearlyfour thousand pounds in English bank-notes. It was her share of therecent robbery that Il Passero had paid her three days before at theConcordia Restaurant in the Via Garibaldi, in Genoa.

  Hugh pressed her many times to tell him something concerning themysterious Mademoiselle, but he failed to elicit any further informationof interest.

  "Her fortune at the Rooms is wonderful, they say," Lisette said. "Shemust be very rich."

  "But she is one of Il Passero's assistants--eh?"

  The girl laughed lightly.

  "Perhaps," was her enigmatical reply. "Who knows? It is, however,evident that Il Passero is seriously concerned at the tragic affair atthe Villa Amette."

  "Have you ever been there?"

  She hesitated a few moments, then said: "Yes, once."

  "And you know the old Italian servant Cataldi?"

  She replied in the affirmative. Then she added:

  "I know him, but I do not like him. She trusts him, but----"

  "But what?"

  "I would not. I should be afraid, for to my knowledge he is a _saigneura musique_."

  "And what is that?"

  "An assassin."

  "What?" cried Henfrey. "Is he guilty of murder--and Mademoiselle knowsit?"

  "Mademoiselle may not know about it. She is probably in ignorance, orshe would not employ him."

  Her remark was of considerable interest, inasmuch as old Cataldi hadseemed to be most devoted to his mistress, and entirely trusted by her.

  "Do you know the circumstances?" asked Hugh.

  "Yes. But it is not our habit to speak of another's--well,shortcomings," was her reply.

  "Surely, Mademoiselle should have been told the truth! Does not IlPassero know?" he asked.

  There flitted across his mind at that moment the recollection of Dorise.What could she think of his disappearance? He longed to write to her,but The Sparrow's chauffeur had impressed upon him the serious danger hewould be running if he wrote to her while she was at Monte Carlo.

  "I question whether he does know. But if he does he would say nothing."

  "Ah!" sighed Hugh. "Yours is indeed a queer world, mademoiselle. And notwithout interest."

  "It is full of adventure and excitement, of ups and downs, of constanttravel and change, and of eternal apprehension of arrest," replied thegirl, with a laugh.

  "I wish you would tell me something about Yvonne Ferad," he repeated.

  "Alas! m'sieur, I am not permitted," was her obdurate reply. "I am trulysorry to hear of the dastardly attack upon her. She once did me avery kind and friendly action at a moment when I was in sore need of afriend."

  "Who could have fired the shot, do you think?" Henfrey asked. "You knowher friends. Perhaps you know her enemies?"

  Mademoiselle Lisette was silent for some moments.

  "Yes," she replied reflectively. "She has enemies, I know. But who hasnot?"

  "Is there any person who, to your knowledge, would have any motive tokill her?"

  Again she was silent.

  "There are several people who hate her. One of them might have done itout of revenge. You say you saw nobody?"

  "Nobody."

  "Why did you go and see her at that hour?" asked the girl.

  "Because I wanted her to tell me something--something of greatestimportance to me."

  "And she refused, of course? She keeps her own secrets."

  "No. On the other hand, she was about to disclose to me the informationI sought when someone fired through the open window."

  "The shot might have been intended for you--eh?"

  Hugh paused.

  "It certainly might," he admitted. "But with what motive?"

  "To prevent you from learning the truth."

  "She was on the point of telling me what I wanted to know."

  "Exactly. And what more likely than someone outside, realizing thatMademoiselle was about to make a disclosure, fired at you."

  "But you said that Mademoiselle had enemies."

  "So she has. But I think my theory is the correct one," replied thegirl. "What was it that you asked her to reveal to you?"

  "Well," he replied, after a brief hesitation, "my father diedmysteriously in London some time ago, and I have reason to believe thatshe knows the truth concerning the sad affair."

  "Where did it happen?"

  "My father was found in the early morning lying in a doorway inAlbemarle Street, close to Piccadilly. The only wound found was a slightscratch in the palm of the hand. The police constable at first thoughthe was intoxicated, but the doctor, on being called, declared that myfather was suffering from poison. He was at once taken to St. George'sHospital, but an hour later he died without recovering consciousness."

  "And what was your father's name?" asked Lisette in a strangely alteredvoice.

  "Henfrey."

  "Henfrey!" gasped the girl, starting up at mention of the name."_Henfrey_! And--and are--you--_his son_?"

  "Yes," replied Hugh. "Why? You know about the affair, mademoiselle! Tellme all you know," he cried. "I--the son of the dead man--have a right todemand the truth."

  "Henfrey!" repeated the girl hoarsely in a state of intense agitation."Monsieur Henfrey! And--and to think that I am here--with you--_hisson_! Ah! forgive me!" she gasped. "I--I----Let us return."

  "But you shall tell me the truth!" cried Hugh excitedly. "You know it!You cannot deny that you know it!"

  All, however, he could get from her were the words:

  "You--Monsieur Henfrey's son! _Surely Il Passero does not know this_!"