“Tell us.”
“He’s been betting all over Paris on whether the Empress Joséphine will actually be crowned on Sunday!”
We decided that until I found out what happened at Caroline’s next morning, there was little point in us standing guard at all three of the Princesses’ hôtels. If the sisters had the crown, it was likely to be at Caroline’s. Fournier wanted to station an agent outside her house to follow her if she suddenly got better and left. I was concerned in case he was observed and the Princess alerted. It seemed unlikely that more than one of the sisters would be keeping to their beds. There was a ball in the Tuileries being held tonight, where they would be expected to be present and their absence would be questioned. Since I was the most respectably dressed, I volunteered to check which of the ladies were at the palace during the course of the evening.
I felt a little sick whenever I thought about how few hours we had left to find the crown. We would all need to work through the night to tie up the other strands of the investigation. We did not have enough time to follow up all the leads and so we would have to decide which ones seemed most promising. I hate investigations like this one, with no time to do anything except react to circumstances. I had the hollow feeling that I was bound to miss something. I just hoped it would not be important.
Lefebvre agreed to concentrate on discovering why Simon had given Jacques a false message. Fournier would find and follow Saint Victor. I would do the same with Dupré, who was likely to be near to Pauline, so I could watch her as well. Madame de Herlay would be left to Eugénie. Christophe and the women at Margueritte’s seemed to be of lesser importance for the moment and could wait until the following day. I hoped, by then, Eugénie would have something to tell me. If she had failed, then I would have to interview Madame de Herlay myself. We decided to meet again at Fournier’s apartment at six tomorrow morning to compare our findings and decide on our next actions.
Fournier had brought with him the files from the Ministry concerning our suspects. We divided them between us and read their contents before we went any further. There was relatively little on the Princesses. Perhaps their papers had been locked away or destroyed at Napoléon’s order. Certainly they were not available to everybody. There was a fat dossier on Margueritte, a much smaller one on Madame de Herlay and quite a lot on the two equerries. I pounced on Dupré’s and skimmed through it. There was information on his financial position, which was poor, with many outstanding debts. His meeting with Princess Pauline was described. He had delivered a message to her from his superior officer who was also her previous lover. The man had made a mistake sending him to her as he found to his cost. Dupré’s address was given as a second floor apartment in a small street just off the Quai Bernard, not a fashionable area at all. I decided to start with a visit to his lodging.
We left the tavern and went our separate ways. I took a hack due to the press of time. We crossed the river and arrived in the district quite quickly. As I expected, Dupré’s house was like so many in Paris, past its better days. The entrance was dank and malodorous. I knocked up the concierge who was less than happy at my arrival. He changed his attitude when he read the Emperor’s authorisation. Then he could not do enough for me. From him I learned that Dupré was behind in paying his rent. The owners had not started to dun him for they knew that he was keeping company with ‘this rich high-born lady’, to quote the man. He had not seen Dupré for several weeks and from the sound of it, had no wish to do so ever again, although he did not tell me why. I imagined Dupré’s arrogance annoyed him as it had annoyed me.
He conducted me up the rickety stairs and opened the door of Dupré’s apartment. The place was quite tidy and clean but it had the musty smell of somewhere that is not being lived in. I tipped the concierge and he left me alone with the lantern to investigate. I quickly found candles to add more light and proceeded to make a thorough search. I found lots of bills and love letters from several ladies, but not Pauline. Having met her, I doubted she was one for the niceties of courtship. She wouldn’t have the patience to write to any man.
The press held some clothes, several of them in need of repair and laundering. Dupré had obviously taken his better garments with him and left these cast-offs behind. I was beginning to think that this search was a waste of time. I have conducted many investigations during my years in the Police. Lefebvre has also taught me some tricks in the time we have been together, although I will never attain his mastery. This experience helped me now. People choose a variety of hiding places and I hunted through them now, hoping to find more than the rubbish I had discovered so far. At first, I found nothing. It was not until I swept aside the remains of an old fire and lifted a couple of bricks at the far corner that I discovered anything interesting at all. I unearthed a small tin box. I felt a stab of excitement as I opened the lid. It contained a passport in the name of Charles Jehan with permission to travel throughout the Emperor’s dominions. I held it in my hand, wondering why Dupré needed such a thing. Why should he want to leave Paris under false papers? The document had been issued about four months ago. I calculated that it had been before he had met Pauline. One explanation might be a desire to escape from his creditors but if so, they must have been very pressing when he applied for the passport. He had not used it,, because his debts had been paid. The need would have become less pressing. It was something I decided I would ask him about the next time we met. I folded the passport and put it into my wallet. Then I rummaged around in the box. A rouleau of Louis d’Or lay beneath a few papers. Emergency money, I thought. Gold is always useful, no matter in which country or situation. There was nothing else. I put the coins back, arranged one of Dupré’s bills on top of them, in place of the passport. I fitted the box into its hole and carefully piled ash on the bricks, pushed the remains of the charred wood over them. By now my hands were filthy and there was no water in the room. I did not want to alert the concierge to where I had been searching. So I left the lantern burning on the table and called to the man as I was leaving the building. I told him to go and lock up the apartment because I was finished. He shuffled out of his doorway, but I did not wait to answer his questions, telling him I was in a rush as I hurried past.
My next task was to determine who, of the people we were interested in, were at the Tuileries that evening and more importantly, who was not. I found water at a nearby tavern and washed away most of the evidence of my search. Then I tidied my clothes and hair as best I could. I was under no illusion that I was fit for polite company. My cuffs were soiled and I kept finding bits of grit attached to my coat. I cursed but there was little I could do about it here. I would have to trust to Napoléon’s letter to gain me entrance to where I needed to go, despite the state of my attire.
Fortunately, this trust proved to be justified. When I arrived at the door of the Tuileries, the majordomo stalked up to me, determined to eject me from the palace. My authorisation caused a change in the man which was almost comical. It was as if he had suddenly been deflated. His shoulders scrunched and his high pitched voice became deferential if not positively fawning. The first hurdle was over.
The majordomo beckoned one of his lackeys and ordered him to take me wherever I wished to go. I asked the lad, for he was little more, to conduct me to somewhere I could make myself more presentable. He showed me to one of the withdrawing rooms, where a maid brought me water and a comb. The lackey even brushed my coat for me, making a good job of it. Only a small smear or two on the cuffs gave evidence of my activities. The mirrors in the room showed me that, even in such a short time, I looked considerably better. Then I asked the lackey to take me to where I could view the assembled company without drawing attention to myself.
He brought me to a balcony overlooking the ballroom. A dance was in progress. Long lines of ladies and gentlemen were weaving in and out, touching hands and swaying away. I quickly spotted Pauline, wearing a pale pink dress, with roses and diamonds woven into her hair. The style was close fitting and
nearly the colour of Pauline’s skin. No wonder Napoléon frowned when he looked in her direction. They say he has become extremely strict ever since he had been elected Emperor. Dupré was not dancing with her, so I looked around for him in the crowd around the floor. It took some time, but I eventually found him leaning against one of the marble pillars. I watched him for a few moments. He never took his eyes off the Princess, who ignored him, saving her smiles for her current partner. Poor man, I thought again.
“Is the Princess Élisa here tonight?” I asked the lackey, because, to the best of my knowledge, I had not seen her before and would not be able to recognise her. The pictures in the broadsheets are so bad, they could be anyone.
“There she is,” the lad said and pointed.
Élisa sat on a chaise longue, at the side of the dais, near the Empress and her daughter. She wore the dark green of Corsica, which flashed with as many jewels as she could cram onto her person. The Empress, in white as usual, appeared almost plain beside her and all the more dignified for that. I watched Élisa for a while. After all, I would have to speak with her tomorrow. Not pretty, but with eyes that looked around with interest. I believed what I had been told about her. She would miss very little that went on. The lackey also pointed out Élisa’s husband, Prince Baciocchi, who was as far away from his wife as was possible without actually leaving the ballroom. He is a tall slim man with a dark hawk-like face who was talking to Caroline’s husband. Marechal Murat was one of the sights to be seen. He was wearing a pale lemon uniform, with a peach coloured cape lined with fur tossed negligently over one shoulder. When the music ceased, Murat excused himself to Baciocchi and walked off to partner a lady. He was dancing with élan, occasionally he must have stepped on her toes, for I saw her wincing. I remembered that Murat was known as a brave and impetuous cavalry commander. He certainly danced like one.
“I see Marechal Murat,” I said to the lackey, “but not his wife.”
“The Princess is not present this evening. I believe she is ill.” He lowered his voice. “She is with child.”
“I did not know,” I replied, wondering if Fournier and I had been guilty of making a grave mistake. I remember how often Eugénie had been inconvenienced with Marie-Aimée. “What a pity she is missing some of the celebrations. Let us hope she is well enough to attend the coronation.”
A group of men were making their way into the ballroom from a side rooms. Fouché was among them, dressed as usual in black and looking like a carrion crow amid all the glitter. Beside him was a man I recognised instantly as Tallyrand, the Grand Chamberlain of the Empire and our most famous diplomat. He is unmistakable. The third man was named to me as the Marquis de Coulaincourt, another diplomat. At that moment, Fouché, who was glancing around the ballroom, lifted his eyes and saw me on the balcony. He beckoned, said something to his companions and walked towards one of the doors.
“I have been summoned,” I said to the lackey. “Can you take me to meet Monsieur Fouché?”
“Of course.”
Fouché was waiting for me near the staircase which led to the balconies. He nodded to the lackey and told him to go away but to return after ten minutes or so. He then led me down a corridor and into a small room which was obviously some sort of office, from all the papers scattered around.
“Well?” he asked impatiently.
“I have not found it yet, Monseigneur,” I said and he snorted.
“That is evident. If you had, you would not be here. Garnier has had no luck. He has questioned both of the workmen you mentioned. He reported to me just before I left the Ministry. Both of them maintained their innocence and denied all knowledge of the theft. Knowing Garnier and his methods, I am sure he would have obtained the information if they had any to give him.”
“A pity.” I described how our investigation was proceeding and showed Fouché Dupré’s passport.
“I will look into this,” he said, handing it back to me.
“I intend to confront Dupré tonight,” I told him. “Finding the passport should make him speak to me more freely.”
Fouché was tapping on the desk as he does when he is deep in thought.
“Or it may force him into premature flight. Certainly he has something to hide. Whether he took the crown and still has it is debatable. Debts and an easy way out of the country are not absolute proof of guilt. By challenging him now, you chance make him run. If he is indeed part of a conspiracy you will alert the others. Your reasoning about the hiding place is interesting and might well provide the solution. Follow Dupré by all means, but don’t do anything else until you have seen Princess Caroline.”
“Time is so short, Monseigneur.”
“If you have made no more progress by tomorrow evening, I shall order a full search of the Princesses’ hotels and their persons. We’ll tear their palaces apart if need be.”
I gasped and Fouché smiled his crooked smile. “In this matter, the Emperor will certainly support me. Do not doubt it.”
“Never, Monseigneur.” I said fervently.
So I did not, as I intended, speak to Dupré that evening. I waited at the Tuileries until he left and then followed him to Princess Pauline’s home. They did not go there alone. Her husband went in the same carriage and so did the man I had seen dancing with the Princess earlier. Dupré did not seem happy at all.
Chapter 9
9 Frimaire, Year XIII
(Friday, November 30, 1804)
I spent a cold and miserable few hours watching Princess Pauline’s hôtel but neither Dupré nor his mistress emerged again. I left as one of the church clocks chimed five and made my way to Fournier’s rooms. His wife, Berthe, was already awake and served me bread, cheese and freshly made coffee which were very welcome. Fournier had been dozing in his chair when I arrived, but he perked up as I came in and gave me a report. He searched Saint Victor’s dwelling while the equerry was dancing at the ball. Saint Victor lived in an apartment, rather grander than Dupré’s, from the description. Although Saint Victor was often on duty with one of the Princesses, he still lived there, returning most nights. He kept a servant, an elderly man who had worked for him for years, according to the concierge. This servant always went to the tavern as soon as his master departed. Apparently, he was usually gone for a long time.
“I thanked the concierge for the information and left,” Fournier told me. “I went round the corner and slipped back into the house. I searched Saint Victor’s apartment but except for some bad poetry, I found nothing of interest.”
“How did you get in?” I asked because I hadn’t given him the Emperor’s authorisation. It was still in my pocket.
“Lefebvre isn’t the only one who can open locked doors,” Fournier said with a wink.
“So we’re no further?”
“Not with Saint Victor, not yet. What about you?”
I told him my story.
“Not much there,” he sighed when I finished.
A tap on the door and Berthe let Lefebvre in. He was grinning.
“You look as if you are big with news,” I said, hopefully.
“I am, up to a point.” He flung himself into a chair and took the beaker Berthe offered him. “I’ve not found the crown, but I have found a link between Simon, the servant, and Saint Victor, which may explain why and how the false message was sent.”
“Go on then, tell us.”
“It’s simple enough. Saint Victor is courting Madame de Herlay’s daughter, Cécile. When he called to see her yesterday, he said that he had forgotten an urgent note which had to be taken to the jeweller Margueritte. Cécile asked their head lackey to deliver it immediately. The man told me he gave Simon the note to take to the workshop right away.”
“You got that from the lackey?”
“Yes I did and Simon confirmed it. By the way, Soldier, you owe me two francs for that piece of information.”
“When I get paid, you will too. Saint Victor took a risk, trusting the letter to someone else.”
&n
bsp; “Well, he could hardly take it himself. Someone would be sure to ask awkward questions. It’s a servant’s job. He’s above that these days. The note was innocent enough and it was sealed. It took a while for him to admit it, but Simon has never been taught to read. I asked him because he seems a bit gormless, not the sort of lad to stick to his books. The head lackey can read but he was most indignant at the suggestion that he would open any letter entrusted to him. If it hadn’t been for his dignity, I thought he would have thumped me,”
“Just as well he didn’t,” I said. Lefebvre fights dirty. “So we are a little further ahead. Saint Victor deliberately tried to entice Monsieur Margueritte away from his workshop, not one of the workmen. Garnier got nothing from Robart or Jacques, by the way.”
“Therefore Simon and Jacques are innocent.”
“So it would seem. How did Saint Victor know Madame de Herlay would not be at home at the time he asked Monsieur Margueritte to call?”
“Madame de Herlay and Cécile regularly call on an old friend on Thursdays. Saint Victor knew that and undoubtedly encouraged or assisted the Princesses to visit the workshop at the right time.”
“You’ve done well,” I said. “Do you think Saint Victor was acting on his own initiative or someone else’s?”
“He’s not that bright,” Fournier mused, “or so they say. He’s brave and a good enough soldier but he’s better at taking orders than giving them. There’s no evidence that he’s dishonest either. One of the Princesses’ ideas perhaps?”
“They’re the most obvious suspects and unfortunately, they are looking more and more guilty with each piece of information we receive.”
“You haven’t forgotten Dupré?”
“No, he could well be part of the conspiracy. Maybe he put a side bet on the outcome to help himself out of debt just in case Pauline doesn’t rescue him again.”
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