On the suggestion of Antoinette, who at first was amused by the incident, and then grew alarmed and was with difficulty kept in the flat, they sent for a doctor, who after carefully examining him declared that someone must have administered a powerful narcotic.
“Where did he have his last meal?” asked the doctor.
“Well, doctor, I prepared his supper myself,” returned M. Supia.
“I should like to see the remains.”
The plates, glasses and bottles were brought to him. He noticed that a little brandy remained in the flask. A few minutes later the plates and glasses and brandy were examined in a laboratory in the Avenue de la Victoire. The analysis was conclusive. Titin had been sent to sleep by a drug which some mysterious hand had poured into the brandy.
Some mysterious hand! Ah, M. Supia knew only too well that mysterious hand.... Hardigras! Hardigras again!
Just then Titin woke up and expressed the same opinion.
“That confounded Hardigras has had me,” he confessed unmoved. “But I’ll come back this evening, M. Supia, and...”
“Clear out,” yelled the “tyrant.”
“Clear out and don’t let me see your face again.”
“You are extremely rude, M. Supia,” said Titin, putting on his trousers. “I should never have thought you would make so much fuss over a mere Louis XVI room. And I have been nearly poisoned on your account! Give my respects to Mlle. Antoinette, and say how much I regret my failure in this damned Hardigras business.”
But M. Supia already had departed to the refuge of his own room. Once more he began to think things over, and this time he recognized his powerlessness. “Bezaudin was right,” he said to himself. “I shall have to bargain with Hardigras and make the best possible terms with him.”
M. Supia was to know that very day at what cost he could bargain, perhaps, with Hardigras. Having retired to bed early after the exertions of the night and the severe excitement of the day, he learnt what to expect, before nine o’clock. On slipping his handkerchief under the pillow his hand encountered a letter, which he certainly did not expect to find in that place. The envelope bore the address in capital letters:
“TO M. HYACINTHE SUPIA. URGENT AND STRICTLY PERSONAL.”
With a trembling hand he tore it open and read:
“The marriage between M. Hyacinthe Supia’s ward and the ‘good-for-nothing’ Prince Hippothadee of Transylvania is prohibited.”
It was signed: “Hardigras.”
CHAPTER IX
IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT TITIN LE BASTARDON HAS GENIUS
THE FOLLOWING EVENING at seven o’clock, Titan had recovered completely from his enforced sleep. Wider awake than ever, he was walking along the Avenue de la Victoire, with his henchman, Babazouk, when suddenly turning round he perceived two gentlemen. From the cut of their clothes it was impossible to regard them as regular frequenters of first-class hotels.
Nevertheless we should do MM. Souques and Ordinal the justice to say that their make-up was so unlike that of two days before when they were in Caramagna’s restaurant that Titin himself wondered if he were not mistaken in assuming that they were the two famous detectives. But Babazouk said:
“You can walk up to them, Titin, it’s they right enough. They’ll never leave us.”
Titin went up to them and saluting them in military fashion said:
“MM. Souques and Ordinal, I believe?... Yes, it’s certainly you. Three days ago you were dressed like Germans and to-day you look like Englishmen. I have no objection to that — it’s all in your day’s work, and as we are on the eve of Carnival it’s as well for you to get your hand in....
“But I am beginning to be fed up with you. You don’t leave me by a foot’s breadth, and in face of such misplaced persistence, I should be entitled to complain to the Commissary of Police. I only ask you, since you are so bent on keeping our company, to take your walks abroad with us. Let me introduce you to my friend, Giaousé Babazouk, who was telling me a good story just now about this Hardigras, who has been playing such nasty tricks on us....
“As to Hardigras, don’t you think, gentleman, it would be wiser for us to join forces rather than scatter them to no purpose? We should end by having the ‘rogue,’ though you would have to put your backs into it, and give up once for all the notion — so fatal to poor M. Supia, who had to retract and apologize to me for it — that Hardigras and Titin le Bastardon are one and the same person....
“Gentlemen, here we are at Négrin Passage. There are some very decent bars round here. Allow me to offer you, since you are Englishmen to-day, a cocktail such as you have certainly never tasted in England.”
MM. Souques and Ordinal listened with perfect composure to Titin’s little speech, and when he finished M. Ordinal said:
“Hardigras invited M. Morelli to have a drink.”
“Hang it all, how suspicious you are.”
“Look here, Titin, that’s quite natural after what happened to these gentlemen,” broke in Babazouk.
“What do you mean?” asked M. Ordinal, casting a black look at Babazouk.
“Well, after your experiences in Naples,” said Titin.
“Tut, tut,” said M. Ordinal, looking uneasily round him.
They walked down the passage. Titin led the way into a bar. They found themselves in a bodega, where drinks of varied character were being consumed round elegantly polished wine vats circled with white metal hoops. Behind the counter Fred, with a masterly skill that never flagged, was shaking up glasses in the preparation of his concoctions. On entering, Titin gave him a friendly nod and asked:
“Has my accountant arrived?”
“Not yet, M. Titin,” returned Fred, “but he won’t be long.... He was waiting for you yesterday, but it was rumored that you were ill.”
“I am never ill. I was poisoned.”
“Poisoned!” exclaimed Fred. “Who poisoned you?”
“Hardigras!”
He did not seem to notice the outburst of laughter which filled the saloon, but strode with his three companions to a small room at the back of the bar. MM. Souques and Ordinal exchanged glances and had no need to give utterance to their thoughts, which were the same: “This time we’ve got him.”
After drinks were served M. Ordinal opened the fray.
“You were speaking just now of what happened to us in Naples. Did anything happen to us?”
“We know every detail of the affair,” returned Titin.
“You know it as well as Hardigras himself,” said M. Ordinal casually.
“Oh, it wouldn’t surprise me you know if Hardigras told the story,” returned Titin.
“I should be curious to hear it,” said M. Ordinal, winking stealthily at M. Souques, “just to be able to tell you if by chance he has introduced any fanciful details.”
“Well, gentlemen, you shall judge for yourselves how much we know about it.”
Titin related every particular of the occurrence alike so extraordinarily successful and yet so simple in its methods....
One evening the two detectives were informed that Hardigras, realizing that he was being hunted down, had taken refuge on board a coasting vessel due to sail that night. While waiting for the vessel to put to sea, he descended to the hold for greater safety, and hid himself behind goods bound for Naples. Since they were bent on trapping him, it was a favorable opportunity; no time was to be lost. At that very moment the crew were on shore and the vessel was in charge of an apprentice.
Acting boldly on their own impulse, MM. Souques and Ordinal hastened to the harbor. To board the vessel and seize the apprentice in charge did not take long. The hapless young man protested to no purpose against the outrage inflicted on him. They silenced him, revolver in hand, and forced him to show them the hold. They made him lead the way down the companion ladder which descended to the lowest part of the vessel; and they began their search.
Suddenly as they were entering a dark corner in which the cases consigned to Naples were sto
red, a blow from a stick coming from above struck down the lantern in M. Souque’s hand. At the same time they were hustled, belabored, and thrown to the ground, for they dared not use their revolvers lest they should shoot each other.
When they recovered themselves they noticed that they were imprisoned in a sort of cell, in which their captors had taken the precaution on humanitarian grounds to place something to eat, which, however, they forebore to touch, for they were in no humor for food. They were, in fact, a prey to sea-sickness, and when they arrived at their destination were more dead than alive.
The captain and crew of the vessel did not fail to lavish the most assiduous attention on them while waiting instructions from the authorities, to whom they reported the occurrence as soon as they made their discovery. From the explanations that followed it seemed certain that the detectives had once more fallen to the wiles of the accursed Hardigras, assisted by the apprentice, who, the Captain learnt, was no longer on board ship and could not be traced. To show his good faith and regret that MM. Souques and Ordinal should have been compelled to make so unpleasant a trip, he offered to take them back to Nice on his vessel free of charge, but they declined his generous offer.
When he had finished his story, Titin ordered another round of drinks and proposed the health of the two detectives, wishing them a speedy revenge.
“Neither M. Souques nor myself,” said M. Ordinal slowly and almost solemnly, “interrupted your story because we readily admit that it is as near the truth as possible. Rut we have taken the necessary measures, believe me, to prevent the details of this unfortunate affair, which reflects no credit on us, from being known to anyone but ourselves.... As a matter of fact, how did you learn all this, M. Titin? Would it be indiscreet to ask you?”
“Why, we heard about it like everybody else.”
“What do you mean?— ‘like everybody else’!”
“He’s getting at us,” muttered M. Souques on thorns, feverishly rattling in his pocket the handcuffs intended for Hardigras.
“Well, like everybody else — through the newspapers.”
“Newspapers!” exclaimed M. Ordinal, turning pale. “Is there anything in the newspapers about it?”
“They are full of it,” returned Titin ingenuously.
“Here you are,” said Babazouk, taking two Paris newspapers from his pocket.
He unfolded the papers. The detectives seized them and were amazed at the headlines, which left no doubt of their misfortune:
“EXTRAORDINARY EXPERIENCES OF TWO WELL-KNOWN DETECTIVES OF THE CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT. LAMENTABLE STORY.”
For the moment they could not bear to read more. They looked at each other in despair.
“Our turn will come,” muttered M. Ordinal, in a harsh and threatening voice.
“Yes,” added M. Souques, and relapsed once more into silence. But Titin pursued the subject:
“Your position is nothing to laugh at. I am speaking seriously now.... Hardigras saved your lives in spite of you and sent you to Naples against your will. He deserves his punishment. You won’t always miss him. I, too, failed to get him. Well, gentlemen, let’s see if between us we can’t do the job. But don’t look under my jacket for him. You won’t find him there. ‘Pon my soul, it’s maddening to see my friends look at me and laugh when they speak of Hardigras. I have always acted like an honest man. I have never done harm to a single soul. How can anyone take me for a burglar? I have always worked in the light of day. Everybody knows what my business is. I began with nothing and to-day I occupy a position which I won’t allow to be jeopardized by a silly story. By my life, no! It’s not by playing practical jokes on M. Supia that I have managed to start a business which shows sufficient profits to enable me to entertain my pals and friends from one end of the year to the other. Is that not so, Giaousé?”
“There’s nobody in the world like Titin. That’s all I’ve got to say,” returned Babazouk.
“What business do you mean?” asked M. Ordinal, under the impression from his special inquiries that Titin was without resources.
“What business! You ask me what business! Why, have you been merely basking in the sun all the time you’ve been here and never heard of ‘Bastardon’s Kiosks’?”
“Tut, tut,” said M. Ordinal, thinking that Titin was jesting, “Have you any kiosks?”
“You are the only man, M. Ordinal, to be unaware that I employ two hundred persons, not including my auditors and chief accountant.”
“Where are your kiosks?” he asked, more and more disposed to believe it some hoax.
“Why, they’re in the streets. They’re all over the town and in the early hours of the morning they’re besieged.”
“It’s extraordinary. I have no idea what that may be like. What do you sell in your kiosks?”
“Well, the best things in the world, unless of course you consider them the worst — newspapers,” returned Titin chaffingly, waving in their faces the two papers containing the story of their discomfiture.
“Where are your offices?”
“Here.”
“Here?”
“You may take my word for it. Here on this wine-vat. Perhaps you would have preferred an American desk?”
“He’s getting at us,” growled M. Souques once more. “We’ve had enough of this.”
“Yes, M. Titin, we’ve had enough of this,” repeated M. Ordinal, rising to his feet. “But never fear, I have a vague idea that we shall meet again.”
“Always at your service, gentlemen. You will find me in my office on every first Saturday of the month. I am obliged to turn up here to check my monthly accounts. As we say in these parts: Method means money, lack of method, bankruptcy.”
Just then Fred crossed the room and said:
“Your chief accountant has come.”
“Show him in, Fred. I shall be delighted to introduce him to these gentlemen. He is the most honest man I know. You can’t often meet such men in your business?”
“No,” agreed Souques.
“Come in, my dear Gamba Secca. We are very glad to see you again, particularly if you’ve got any good news for us.”
“Couldn’t be better,” said Gamba, adding, “I say, Fred — a glass of wine!”
“Gamba Secca” signifies in the local dialect a game leg and also any person whom nature, sometimes a harsh mother, has inflicted this infirmity. The man who came in had one “stump” shorter than the other, in fact. This caused him to limp; but his limp did not apparently trouble him overmuch. He was alert and he slipped gayly into the room. He did not give the impression of wealth, and his clothes were somewhat dusty. But, apart from this, he did not appear to lack either food or drink.
“M. Gamba Secca, my chief accountant and staff controller,” introduced Titin. “He is not so ornamental as ‘his majesty,’ Hippolyte Morelli, but for keeping accounts he has no equal. Have you brought the books, Mr. Chief Accountant?”
“They never leave me,” declared Gamba Secca, taking from his pocket a dirty notebook, about the size of the palm of his hand, and the veriest remnant of a pencil.
“What about Mr. Auditor?” asked Giaousé. “Figures are all very well. But money is money.”
“At the present moment, Mr. Auditor must be at the Café de Provence, at Peron, waiting for the day’s takings,” said Titin.
“No, he told me to wait for him here as he would soon be ready with the cash.”
“Here he is,” said Babazouk.
“Cheerio Le Budeu,” said Titin. “Come here, I want to introduce you to MM. Souques and Ordinal, two of the glories of Paris anxious to make acquaintance with your talents...
Mr. Auditor saluted Titin with dignity. His clothes scarcely differed in character from the chief accountant’s. But, instead of “bringing the books” like Gamba Secca, he swung before him two fat, well-filled canvas bags which gave forth a metallic sound when he threw them without ceremony upon the wine-vat.
“Still going strong, Titin?” inquire
d Le Budeu. “So your illness was nothing much then. I said to myself: Hang it all, he’s not the fellow to die young.”
“Are you satisfied with business?” asked Titin.
“Well, we did twenty-five per cent, better last month than the month before. Aren’t you delighted?”
“Yes, yes, I am delighted, my dear fellow, immensely delighted.”
“Bring me a glass of wine also, Fred.... And now for our accounts.”
He drew from his waistband and unfolded a handkerchief containing a decent sized wad of bank notes. Then he emptied the money from the two bags upon the “desk” in a double jingling stream. Titin, now as serious as a Prime Minister, proceeded to count the notes and while Giaousé placed the money in little piles, the chief accountant checked and put down rows of figures.
Titin turned round for a moment to gaze at MM. Souques and Ordinal, who wore an increasingly bewildered, suspicious look.
“If you will lend us a hand we shall get through it quicker,” he said. “As a reward I will explain my little scheme.”
The two detectives were longing to know where the money came from. But they could not make up their minds to play the part of “supers” in Titan’s business. He bore them no malice and explained it all the same. He told them that at the hour when shops were still closed, and newsagents had not yet begun to make a show, when the shutters of even tobacconists were still up, a large number of shop assistants, laborers, mechanics, seamstresses and milliners — in short all early workers on their way to offices, factories, works, or shops — felt a longing to know, before starting their day’s work, something of the latest news, and even of the serial story. When Titin himself used to arrive at the market at dawn, he suffered from his lack of mental pabulum, and it was on thinking about it that the idea occurred to him to start Bastardon’s Kiosks.
The business needed no greater outlay than the sum involved in the purchase of a rather large number of bags. Here, he found certain persons willing to supply him on credit. “I will give you in place of money ‘founders’ shares,” and thus he had established his business on a limited liability basis.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 412