Duval at Waterloo

by Michele McGrath

  “The doctor isn’t here, Monsieur,” he said. “He’s gone to visit a patient, but I expect him back shortly. Would you like to come in and wait for him?”

  I thought rapidly, but in the end I agreed. I could use the time to write a list of all the things I had to do before we left Paris. So I asked the servant for paper and a pen. He showed me into what was obviously the doctor’s waiting room. I scribbled for some time before I heard the door open and a tall well-dressed man entered the room. I rose and we shook hands.

  “Forgive me for keeping you waiting,” he said. “I am Docteur Giron. How can I help you?”

  I gave him the Emperor’s authorisation. “I need you to remember everything you can about the incident with Moses David,” I told him.

  “I have been expecting you,” he said. “Let us go into my study where we can be more private and Jules shall bring us some refreshment.”

  We settled into comfortable chairs with a glass of red wine. The doctor ordered Jules to close the door carefully. We were not to be disturbed and any callers should be shown into the waiting room.

  “Now, Monsieur le Docteur, what can you tell me?” I asked.

  “I’ve known Moses David and his family for many years, ever since I came to live and work in this part of the city. I had been treating him for a malady of his chest, which made it difficult for him to breathe when the weather was very cold.”

  “What age of a man was he?”

  “In his fifties.”

  “An invalid?”

  “Occasionally, but he was well enough to conduct his business most of the time.”

  “What was his business?”

  “He was a moneylender, a rather well-known one, with many clients from all ranks in society.”

  “I understand. What happened on the morning he met his death? Where were you, for a start?”

  “I was here, treating another patient. Jules came in to tell me that Nathan, one of Monsieur David’s sons, was here in great distress. He needed me to come to his father at once. I dismissed my patient and was collecting my bag, when Nathan himself burst in. ‘Come quick, Docteur,’ he said. ‘My father is dying.’ ‘I examined your father three days ago,’ I replied. ‘He was well enough then.’ ‘It’s not his chest,’ Nathan said. ‘He’s been stabbed.’ We hurried down the stairs and across the road. The Davids live only two streets away.

  “When I got to their shop I realised that Nathan was right. Moses was lying on his back, with his head on his wife’s knee. His daughter held a kerchief over his wound, trying to staunch the blood, but not very successfully. I knelt beside him and lifted the cloth. I saw immediately that there was nothing I could do. The gash was too deep and he had lost too much blood. I put the cloth back and held it there, then I saw that his eyes had opened. He stared at me and was struggling to speak. Sarah, his wife, begged him to save his strength, but I said ‘Let him speak,’ so she did so.”

  “What did he say? Try to remember the exact words if you can, it may be very important.”

  “Not many to remember, sadly. He said, ‘Tell the Emperor…an officer is going to kill him.’ Then he fell silent and I thought he was going when he opened his eyes again and struggled to speak. ‘In the Maison Militaire.’ ‘What is his name?’ I asked. He shook his head. ‘Can you describe him?’ ‘Young…dark haired.’ ‘How did you meet him?’ ‘Needed money.’ ‘Why do you think he wanted to kill the Emperor?’ ‘Said I would get my money back when the King returned. He would very soon, he said, once an obstacle had been removed.’”

  I started. This was new information and gave a motive for the attempt; one among so many possible reasons.

  “What happened next?”

  “At that moment Sarah sobbed. His eyes turned to her and he murmured a few words in his own language which I did not understand. He did not have time for more.”

  “You can remember anything else?”

  “No, I am sorry.”

  I nodded. “Then I must speak to Madame David and her children. He may have spoken before you got there. Can you furnish me with their direction?”

  “Jules shall take you there and introduce you to them.”

  Madame David was a small, sallow faced woman, whose face bore traces of tears. What I did not expect was to find her in Lefebvre’s arms.

  “What on earth..?”

  “Sarah is an old friend,” Lefebvre said. “Her father and I did business together before she married Moses David.” He pulled a face at me and I knew better than to ask what business. Anything Lefebvre did in the old days was likely to be suspect.

  “Madame David, I am sorry for your loss,” I said. “Has Jean explained why we are bothering you at such a time?”

  “Not yet,” Lefebvre said. “There are more than one family named David in Paris and I wasn’t sure until just now that I had found the right one. I’m as surprised to see Sarah as she is to see me. Her father never mentioned his son-in-law’s name. Come and sit down, Sarah. Perhaps your daughter will be kind enough to bring you a glass of wine? Then we can talk together.”

  The wine seemed to revive Sarah David. She sat with her daughter’s arm about her shoulders and told us what happened.

  “Oh Jean, it was so awful. This young man came into the shop and poor Moses took him into the storeroom in the back. I was tidying one of the drawers and my daughter, Ruth, was sweeping up, when we heard them raise their voices. I went to see what it was all about. I opened the door and heard the young man cry out ‘You’ve cheated me you crook!’ He seemed to push Moses away from him. He sprang out and brushed me aside. I fell against the counter and onto the floor. Then he ran out of the shop into the street.”

  “I went to help Ima, Monsieur. I did not see him hurt Abba or I would have tried to stop him,” Ruth said with a catch in her voice.

  “What did he mean when he accused your husband of cheating, Sarah?” Lefebvre asked gently.

  “I have no idea. Moses never cheated a man in his life.”

  “Did Moses say anything?”

  “No. When I got my breath back, I ran to him. At first I thought he had been winded from his fall, like I was. Then I saw the blood!” Sarah put her hands over her face and began to cry bitterly.

  “Please, you must stop,” Ruth said. “Don’t you realise how much this is upsetting my mother?”

  “I’m sorry,” I told her, “but we must continue if we are to find the man who killed your father and perhaps prevent another murder.”

  Madame David is a strong woman. When she heard these words, she stopped crying and mopped her eyes.

  “Catch this scelerat, Jean, and you Monsieur. What else can I tell you?”

  “Had you ever seen this man before?”

  Sarah shook her head but Ruth said,

  “But yes, Ima, he came here before.”

  “You have seen him?” Sarah stared at her daughter.

  “Yes. I was in the shop when he arrived the first time. Nathan was there too and saw him.”

  Lefebvre looked at me and asked, “Will you ask your brother to come here, Ruth, please?”

  Nathan arrived, a tall gangling young man, very unsure of himself. I asked them both, “How long ago was it that this man came here?”

  They looked at each other and then Nathan spoke for them both,

  “A few weeks, perhaps as many as six or eight.”

  “April?”

  “It must have been. It was just after Passover, is that right?” he asked his sister. She nodded.

  “Did you hear what he wanted?”

  I didn’t expect them to answer but Nathan surprised me. “I think he wanted enough money to buy a good rifle.”

  “How can you possibly know that?” Sarah exclaimed in surprise. “Abba would never discuss a client’s private business with any of us.”

  “After the man left, Abba locked away something small in his safe. Then he went to visit Monsieur Massart who makes the best rifles in the city. I had an errand in the same direction
and walked with him part of the way. I was returning when I saw Abba in the distance coming out of Monsieur Massart’s workshop. He didn’t see me, so I just followed him home. We never talked about it, of course. Ima is right; Abba never discussed a client’s business. I did not think any more about it until now, but what else would Abba be doing there? He’d only go if a client wanted a good rifle and needed someone to buy it for him. He never liked Massart.”

  “That may be true,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “Massart does not like Jews. He’s well known for it.”

  “Was there anything to distinguish this man? Anything at all?”

  Brother and sister looked at each other and shrugged. Then Ruth said,

  “He was good looking, that’s all I remember.”

  “Would either of you recognise him if you saw him again?”

  “I’m not sure.” Ruth crinkled up her nose as if she was trying to remember. “I only caught that glimpse of him when he was leaving the shop and Abba whisked him away the first time. What about you, Nathan? You were in the shop all the time when he was here before.”

  “I’m not sure either,” Nathan said, “but I might. I did get a good look at him but whether I could pick him out? He didn’t have an unusual face or a scar or anything.”

  Lefebvre looked at me. “It’s worth a try.”

  “Sarah,” he said to her gently. “Where is your other son, Ruben?”

  Sarah gulped. “He went to find out about burying poor Moses.”

  “Alain and I want to take Nathan to see if he recognises the man who killed his father. Will you let him come with us?”

  “How long will he be away?”

  “If we can find the man before tomorrow, he can return right away. If not, we are leaving for Brussels at first light and it could be some days before he can leave.”

  “He would miss Moses’ funeral!”

  “Wouldn’t it be worth it, Ima, to catch Abba’s murderer?” Nathan turned to us. “I’m ready to come with you, Messieurs. Abba would understand and forgive me if I cannot be there. Ruben and Ruth can run the business and look after Ima, if she will let me go.”

  Sarah stared at her son for a long moment and I thought she was going to refuse. Then she put out her arms to him and hugged him.

  “You are right. Abba would understand and this man may kill again. I want no other family to feel our grief. If you can help to catch him, you have my blessing.”

  Nathan kissed her and said,

  “Thank you, Ima.” Then he turned to us. “Give me a few moments to gather some things in case I am away for a time and then I will come with you.”

  He was as good as his word and returned with a knapsack slung over his shoulder and his hat on his head. I turned to say goodbye to Madame David when Lefebvre stopped me. He had evidently been thinking, while Nathan had been away.

  “Nathan,” he said, “you told us your father locked away something small after this man visited the shop the first time. Is the item he left still there?”

  “Why do you want to know?” Nathan asked and there was some suspicion in his tone.

  “It’s possible whatever is in the package might help to identify the killer if it is in any way unusual.”

  “I never saw it.” Nathan turned to his mother. “Ima, did you?”

  “No, but we will look.” Sarah pulled a bunch of keys from her pocket and led the way into the inner room of the shop. It was a small room with a table, two chairs, some boxes and, in the corner, a formidable safe. I could not help glancing at Lefebvre and saw his eyes sparkle.

  “Could you open it?” I hissed at him and he nodded.

  “Of course.”

  There was no need to show off his skill however. The safe was opened with Sarah’s key. It was almost full of papers and boxes. Nathan and Ruth helped their mother sort through the contents. It was some time before two small jewel cases were laid on the table in front of us.

  “It must be one of these,” Nathan said. “Abba used to label each item with the name of the owner and the date he received the article. These are the only two pawned in April this year.”

  The first case belonged to a Madame de Bethisy and contained a strand of fine pearls. I gasped when Nathan lifted the lid of the second box. There before us lay a huge diamond, the size of a pigeon’s egg, slightly yellow in colour. Lefebvre gave a low whistle and all eyes turned to him.

  “Lefebvre?”

  “Is this what I think it is?” he asked Sarah.

  “I’ve never seen it before, but it must be worth a king’s ransom,” she gasped.

  “What is it, Jean?” I asked him.

  “I may be wrong, but I believe it is the Sancy diamond. It was part of the crown jewels and disappeared during the Revolution.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “A friend of mine saw one of the princes wearing it. He told me the stone was large and yellow like this one.”

  Trust him to remember a jewel! “So how on earth did it appear here?” I stared at it in wonder. “If what you say is true, it would purchase an arsenal of guns, never mind a single rifle!”

  “True and it doesn’t help us, either. The man who left it as security could equally be a Republican or one of the King’s men. Both of them want to get rid of the Emperor, preferably forever.”

  I nodded. “It has told us all it can and we must be away. Take care of it, Madame. If by any chance the man returns for it, try to inform the Police but don’t put yourself or any members of your family at risk. If need be, give it to the man and let him go unhindered.”

  We took our leave and Lefebvre promised to return soon. When we were outside the shop, he said, “Take Nathan with you, Soldier, and see if he recognises anyone in the Maison Militaire.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “To talk to a couple of men about the Sancy diamond.” With a brief wave, he hurried off.

  “Your friend knows a lot about precious stones,” Nathan said when he had gone.

  “He does,” I agreed but I did not tell him why.

  We went immediately to the Tuileries, where members of the Maison Militaire could be expected to gather. Some had already joined the army, but others waited at the Emperor’s command. We walked through several corridors and entered rooms were numbers of officers were gathered. We met with some resistance, although the sight of the Emperor’s warrant soon quelled any opposition. It did result in some raised eyebrows. All for nothing. If the man was there, Nathan did not recognise him.

  I returned to Fournier’s lodgings and took Nathan with me. He did not want to put his mother through another painful leave-taking. I sent him to bed early, knowing we had a long journey in the morning and he had never left Paris before. He told me he was excited, in spite of his grief for his father and his regret at missing the funeral. Still it wasn’t long before he was snoring. Berthe left us too, promising to be up to make us breakfast.

  Fournier and I talked about my new assignment. Neither of us was surprised when Lefebvre turned up just before midnight, his saddlebags over his arm.

  “Any luck?” I asked, remembering where he had gone.

  “The word is that the diamond vanished before the mob broke into the palace.” Lefebvre threw himself into a chair and took a glass of wine from Fournier with a word of thanks.

  “How did your informant know?”

  Lefebvre grinned. “He didn’t say but, if I know him, he was in the front rank of the looters.”

  “Is he to be trusted?”

  “In something like this, probably. If he’d had the stone, he’d have disposed of it long since and he’d boast to me about the fact. As it was, he said it was gone and so were some of the other jewels that should have been there.”

  “So what are you saying, Lefebvre?”

  “If the jewels weren’t in the collection, the man who took it is more likely to be a Royalist than a Republican. My friend would know if any of the mob had carried away such a prize.”

  “W
ell, that narrows the field slightly, but not much. Plenty of Royalists returned to France after the Peace of Amiens.”

  “This man’s relations must have been trusted by the royal family. A stone such as you describe would not have been given to just anyone for safekeeping,” Fournier remarked. “Unless he stole it of course.”

  “Unlikely,” Lefebvre said. “Those jewels were well guarded, right to the end. Believe me, I know.”

  “Yes – you would!” I laughed. “Well, where are we now?”

  “You could say that your assassin is a Royalist from a family that has always served the Bourbons. They might have held a high position in the old court. The man may have stayed in France, but is more likely to have emigrated. Perhaps he returned to serve the Emperor, but he has never forgotten his old allegiance,” Fournier said. “That doesn’t narrow the field much but it will eliminate those who rose through the ranks to their present positions after the Revolution. They were never members of the nobility. Think of the officers in the Emperor’s Maison Militaire. Who would fit the facts we know about this man?”

  I went through the names I had collected so far. I would have to make a list tomorrow of those who were the most suspect, for I did not know many of the younger men. “The Maison Militaire includes the Chief-of-Staff, Marshal Soult, the commanders of the cavalry, artillery, engineers as well as his aides and his baggage master. Then there are the orderly officers and the pages, to name just a few. I doubt we’ll be able to find the assassin in time, unless we get lucky and Nathan recognises him.”

  “Defeatist talk, mon brave, and not like you,” Lefebvre said.

  “If the Emperor leaves tomorrow he’ll be in the Netherlands in a couple of days.” Fournier said. “The plot will succeed or fail in the next forty-eight hours, seventy-two at the most. That is all the time you have. I don’t envy you and I wish I was coming with you. Pity I’m too old to sit on a horse.”

  “You never did,” I reminded him. Fournier’s horsemanship has always been a joke. Lefebvre looked up and had obviously not been listening to our by-play, but had been thinking hard.

  “An officer, not an ordinary soldier,” he mused. “Napoleon’s only got a handful of Marshals left. Most of them stayed on their estates and ignored his summons to join him for this campaign. Those who are here are too old and, if the Emperor falls, they’d fall with him. Not in their best interests to kill him. The same is true for the generals. So we are looking for a dark haired young man from a Royalist family, an officer and part of the headquarters staff. A colonel, a lieutenant or a captain perhaps?”