The Man with the Lead Stomach

by Jean-FranCois Parot

‘I was born Yves de Langrémont, in Auch. My father, a lieutenant in the Comte de Ruissec’s regiment, was executed for cowardice in action … Cowardice!’ A stifled sob interrupted his words. ‘My mother died of grief as a result. I was twenty-five, leading a dissolute, wasteful life. We were immediately thrown on the street. My sister could not stand our new way of life for long and ran away with a troupe of travelling players … Only a Jesuit priest, my former teacher, tried to help me. He was a tormented spirit, interested only in ideas. At school he despised the mediocrities, those who, in his words, floundered because of their own inadequacies. His colleagues and pupils found the iciness of his anger disconcerting. He could see that I had received an outstanding education and had acquired a great store of knowledge but that I also surrendered to wild outbursts, driven on by a vivid imagination, always liable to be carried away by ideas and fancies. How could I be taught to reconcile so many contradictory qualities?’

  He asked for some water. After glancing at Monsieur de Sartine, Nicolas handed him a glass.

  ‘I discovered from one of my father’s comrades the exact circumstances of his execution. He also brought me a bundle of papers proving the Comte de Ruissec’s wickedness. I used some of them to prepare a report that I gave to the Minister for War, along with a petition to the King asking that one of his noblemen be brought to justice. Nothing came of it and I even received threats from various quarters and was ordered to keep quiet. My father’s friend died and left me a considerable fortune as his heir. I decided to use it to take revenge by my own means. My former teacher had been driven out of his order by a decision of the bishop’s court. He was forced to flee and magistrates issued a summons for his arrest. He did indeed hold subversive views about the legitimacy of assassinating kings who transgress the rules. His idols were Clément,1 Ravaillac and Damiens. His zealousness threatened the Society of Jesus. Before going into hiding abroad he convinced me that the sovereign was responsible for the misfortunes that had befallen my family. So to the hatred of my father’s assassin was added the hatred of the person in whose name innocents were killed.’

  He was breathing with increasing difficulty. Monsieur de Sartine went closer to him.

  ‘Sir, now tell us how this infernal plot was devised that has caused the death of so many people.’

  ‘I decided to come to Paris to find my sister and to gain access to the Ruissec family. Unfortunately –’ he tried to turn towards Mademoiselle Bichelière – ‘our misfortunes had led her into a type of life that despite all my exhortations she refused to give up. She would not concede to me on this matter. She merely agreed to help me to see that justice was done. Here I solemnly wish to declare that she knew nothing of my plans and played only a passive role in the situations I set up without understanding their consequences.’

  ‘We shall see about that later, sir,’ said Sartine.

  ‘It was not difficult for me to gain access to the Ruissec family. I paid the vicomte’s manservant to give up his position and immediately took his place. It was just as easy to gain the confidence of the young man and his brother, whose frenzy for gambling gave me the advantage of seeming to be a willing, discreet lender. It did not take me long to realise that the comte also sought vengeance. Having been befriended by the malcontents and the pious, they had recruited him to their conspiracy. I gained his confidence and became his secret factotum. Gradually I passed myself off as the agent for a clandestine group preparing the new reign. In this way I built up two intrigues, one for the benefit of my personal vengeance, and the other, just as real, to punish the King for his injustice. I did not want to bungle my plan. I had to entangle and ensnare the comte so that he had no possible way out. He was implicated in a plot. His sons were in my hands. A judicious use of certain documents forced him to consent to the marriage of my sister –Mademoiselle de Sauveté – whose true identity he still did not know.’

  ‘But,’ said Nicolas ‘you yourself pretended to be Mademoiselle de Sauveté. In her house in Versailles I found unusually large women’s shoes and a tow-yellow wig, as well as your fingermarks on left-hand side of a cup. Not to mention the clerical bands under a bed, which you presumably used for pretending to be the vidame.’

  ‘I was indeed free to move around in different guises, acting various roles. In the midst of my preparations I came across a galley slave who had served his time and was wandering about accompanied by his deaf-and-dumb son. He was a former fountaineer. His experience enabled me to enter Versailles to prepare subsequent events.’

  Nicolas, who could not help feeling an element of pity for the man, remembered just in time that the subsequent events included a long series of increasingly cruel murders and the King’s intended assassination.

  ‘Everything was coming together as I wanted,’ continued Langrémont. ‘The Ruissecs were in my grip. The comte was conspiring in the belief that he was part of a secret and fearsome organisation whose chief communicated with him via me, and whose hide-out was in the fountaineer’s workshop. However, it so happened that the Comte de Ruissec, convinced of the treachery of a Life Guard called Truche de La Chaux, asked for him to be executed as a traitor to the cause and a threat to our interests. Why and how the Vicomte de Ruissec took his place, I have no idea.’

  Monsieur de Sartine turned towards Nicolas. ‘You can no doubt throw some light on that.’

  ‘Yes, sir. The Vicomte de Ruissec intercepted a note intended for Truche de La Chaux. When Lambert saw the vicomte and not the Life Guard arrive at Apollo’s Chariot for the meeting he no doubt considered that providence was delivering up to him his enemy’s son for him to wreak his revenge upon, and the most dreadful thing of all was that it was the Comte de Ruissec himself who had given the order for the person coming to the meeting to be killed. So the father signed his own son’s death warrant!’

  ‘How can you be so sure of this?’

  ‘A search carried out in Grenelle amongst Lambert’s belongings turned up, carefully hidden away, the note brought by the page and intercepted by the Vicomte de Ruissec. Its content is harmless enough: “Be at Apollo’s Chariot at midday.” But it has the great merit of being in the Comte de Ruissec’s handwriting.’

  ‘Was it not strange and foolish to have wanted to keep such a compromising document?’

  Lambert raised his voice; it was firmer, as if telling the story of his vengeance had strengthened it.

  ‘On the contrary, it was proof that the Comte de Ruissec was guilty of the trap that had cost his son his life. It was a useful protection for me, and also served as a means of blackmail. But there is one essential point about which you are mistaken, gentlemen. I did not know it was the Vicomte de Ruissec. The man who was due to come was masked for reasons of security. It was only after … the execution … that I realised it was my enemy’s son and, as God is my witness, however much I may have hated that family I swear that I would never have allowed what happened, had I known it was the vicomte.’

  ‘It’s easy to say that now,’ Sartine butted in. ‘That doesn’t explain why the comte wished to be rid of Truche de La Chaux.’

  ‘Oh! There were plenty of reasons for that,’ Nicolas went on. ‘Truche de La Chaux had stolen Madame Adélaïde’s jewels. He was being blackmailed by the comte, who had discovered what he had done and was threatening to denounce him if he didn’t obey the comte’s instructions.’

  ‘What were those instructions?’

  ‘His task was to spy on the great lady we have referred to. His function gave him access to her apartments where he was to leave the scurrilous tracts that the conspiracy kept producing against her and the King. However, it is more than probable that the comte had had wind of the ambiguous attitude of his spy because he had other agents spying on the great lady. All Truche was interested inwas his own advantage and he took it where he found it. When attempting to negotiate the sale of one of Madame Adélaïde’s rings with the great lady, the latter recognised the jewel and, having caught out Truche, she ordered him to serve he
r and inform her about the intrigues of the coterie surrounding the Dauphin and the King’s daughters, whose influence she feared. So, the Comte de Ruissec, convinced of Truche’s double dealing, and fearing his dangerous influence over his sons, decided to do away with him and ordered his execution.’

  ‘What about the second murder, the killing of the comtesse?’

  Lambert closed his eyes at the mention of this death.

  ‘I am the culprit. I slipped into the convent of the Carmelites before Commissioner Le Floch arrived, broke her neck and threw her into the well of the dead. The comtesse’s chambermaid had told me she was meeting Le Floch and I wanted to prevent that meeting at all costs.’

  A coughing fit overcame him.

  ‘None of this would have happened had we not been caught at Pont de Sèvres as we were about to immerse the vicomte’s body in the Seine. That was when I had the idea of forcing the comte to see his son’s dead body to make him understand that he had caused the death. To show him how his execution of my father had now been avenged by his killing his own son. Nothing could stop me now. I have fulfilled my mission. I have avenged my father. Just before he died I revealed myself to the comte so that his dying vision was of his victim’s son. His family is decimated.’

  He sat up, let out a loud cry, a stream of blood spurting from his mouth. He fell back unconscious. His sister would have hurled herself upon his body had she not been restrained by an officer. While Bourdeau was arranging for the stretcher to be removed, Mademoiselle Bichelière was taken back to solitary confinement.

  Monsieur de Sartine stood stock-still, gazing at the slowly dying fire in the great fireplace.

  ‘He does not have much longer to live. Perhaps that is better for all concerned. As for his sister, she will end her days in some convent dungeon, or its equivalent now that that system no longer exists. In some nunnery at best, or in the depths of some state fortress at worst. I have three questions, Nicolas. First, how did you know the vicomte had been killed in the workshop in the park? We have the confessions now, but before that?’

  Nicolas opened his black notebook and took out a small sheet of tissue paper folded in four. Sartine, came closer and saw what looked like black gravel.

  ‘Sir, I collected this from the hem of the vicomte’s cloak: coal. Where does one find coal other than near a forge, or in a workshop where metal is melted down? I found the same dust in the workshop of Le Peautre, the fountaineer in the great park.’

  ‘My second question is this: why those dark glasses?’

  ‘My guardian, Canon Le Floch, had an irrational dislike of eyes of differing colours. Though I do not share his sentiment I always notice this feature, especially because when I first arrived in Paris I had my watch stolen by a robber with such eyes. Look at Lambert. He had to conceal his eyes if he was not to be recognised. When he disguised himself as Mademoiselle de Sauveté he used those dark glasses. And when his sister played the role of the same person, she did likewise.’

  ‘My last question, Nicolas: do you have any hope of arresting Le Peautre?’

  ‘A letter from the intendant of Champagne informed me yesterday that his body had been found near Provins, half eaten by wolves. Before that he had entrusted the little deaf-and-dumb boy he used as a messenger to one of the monasteries in the town.’

  ‘Man works in strange ways. This was a difficult investigation and you have carried it out very well. There remain Madame’s jewels. Do you expect to find them?’

  ‘I have not given up hope. We already have the ring.’

  ‘What about Truche de La Chaux?’

  ‘His is not a hanging offence and besides, the good lady protects him, but my intuition leads me to believe that the man will eventually be caught in the web of his own intrigue.’

  NOTES – CHAPTER XI

  1. Jacques Clément, a Dominican friar (1567–1589). A fanatical member of the Catholic League, he assassinated Henri III.

  XII

  TRUCHE DE LA C HAUX1

  ‘Kings are subject to alarm …’

  ÉTIENNE JODELLE

  Sunday 6 January 1762

  The royal supper was about to take place according to time-honoured ritual. For the past two months Nicolas had not left Court. Monsieur de Saint-Florentin had kept the young commissioner at Versailles, much to the chagrin of the Lieutenant General of Police. Nicolas’s task was to check the security of the palace and prepare the report requested by the minister, still anxious about threats to the King’s life. The revelations concerning the outcome of the Ruissec case had only strengthened his fears and he trusted Nicolas implicitly. The commissioner stayed initially with Monsieur de La Borde, thanks to whom he had been able to find lodgings in the palace, in a loft close to the rooms of the First Groom of the Bedchamber.

  It was the first Sunday of the year. Three times a week the King took supper in state with the royal family, following a tradition established by Louis XIV, even though he disliked appearing in public. Louis XV’s personal preference would have been to take supper privately with his favourites and the Marquise de Pompadour, but he was bound by his duties as King.

  Nicolas, who was now closely involved with Court ceremonial, stood at the door to the first antechamber of the royal apartments, where tables had been set up in a horseshoe-shape. The King and Queen would sit at the top and members of the royal family down the sides. La Borde whispered the details of the protocol in Nicolas’s ear. The first meat course was already on its way from the kitchens in a long procession, preceded by an escort of two guards, carbines at the slope, and followed a few paces behind by the footman carrying the candelabrum and the rod, the Master of the Household with his baton of office, the Superintendent of the Pantry, the Comptroller General, the Comptroller of Provisions and a dozen or so other officers of the Household, each carrying a dish, and finally by two more guards bringing up the rear. The Master of the Household paid obeisance before the silver-gilt nef containing the scented napkins. Each officer then tasted the meat to ensure it had not been poisoned. The first course of soups and entrées had been elegantly laid out on the table. The result of all this ceremony was that the King ate his meat cold.

  The arrival of the royal procession had been heralded by a clicking of heels and a shouldering of weapons as well as by the murmur of the throng of people crowding the antechamber. Preceded by an usher, lit by his pages and followed by a captain from his Guards, the King reached his chair just as the Queen arrived. They were given napkins to wash their hands. The rest of the royal family, the Dauphin and his sisters, had taken their seats. Nicolas now observed the crowd, kept at some distance, who scrupulously followed the progress of the supper. Nobles were lined up, often squashed against one another, behind the King’s chair. They were listening attentively, straining to catch a few words or perhaps a sign of acknowledgement from the august presence.

  Eventually the King broke the silence and asked the Dauphin, who had just returned from Paris, for the news from town. The Dauphin mentioned the fears sweeping Europe and circulating in the capital about the Tsarina’s state of health. Everyone was anxiously awaiting news from St Petersburg. The winter and the difficulties that the snow and frost created for the mail-coaches cast further doubt on already contradictory or fanciful reports. No one knew what to believe any more. The Dauphin described the fainting fits that were worrying the Tsarina’s doctors, leading them to fear apoplexy. These medical details captured the King’s attention and he turned to his physician for further information. The Dauphin added that according to certain sources there was great dismay in Russia, although not amongst the uncouth, barbaric and heartless populace. It was at the oriental court that everyone was in a ferment, not for love of the reigning monarch but rather for fear of the Tsarina’s successor. This thoughtless remark darkened the King’s mood and he fell into a sullen silence, despite the Queen’s timid attempts to restart the conversation.

  As the table was being cleared and the meats were arriving, a clamour arose
outside the antechamber where the supper was taking place. At first it was only a rustle, the patter of hurried footsteps, weapons clattering to the floor, voices being raised and people calling out. Unable to reach the heart of the commotion because of the large crowd of people, Nicolas tried to make out the cause, but in vain. An officer from the Guards suddenly fought his way through the mass of courtiers, managing to reach his captain and whisper something to him.

  Outside the scene was one of increasing confusion. The officers of the Household and the members of the King’s family looked at one another in disbelief. The sovereign remained unperturbed, even though he looked impatient at the disruption to the ceremony. Rumours were spreading through the gathering. Everyone was talking loudly to their neighbour. Nicolas heard the words ‘horrifying assassination attempt’ and saw Monsieur de Saint-Florentin give Sartine an interrogatory, flustered look, though the minister stopped pulling faces when the captain of the Guards informed him what was happening. Many people now seemed aware of what had taken place and wore suitably grave expressions. Annoyed by the dull, ever-increasing disturbance around him, the King pursed his lips and looked questioningly at his entourage. He finally displayed his displeasure.

  ‘Where is this commotion coming from? What is the meaning of it?’

  No one dared reply but the look on people’s faces said it all.

  ‘What is it? Why is everyone looking so embarrassed? What could possibly have this effect? Is my life under threat again?’

  The princes and the King’s family all started to talk at once so that the King could not understand what was being said. Their replies were so evasive and confused that, far from reassuring the King as intended, they alarmed him further.

  ‘What have I done?’ he said suddenly, rising from the table and flinging his napkin to the floor. ‘What have I done to deserve these enemies?’