Part 22 (1/2)

CHAPTER XII

THE INNKEEPER

The fair-ground of Montmartre was in full swing when Brett arrived there. The Cabaret Noir was in charge of his former acquaintance, the weary-eyed waiter, and other a.s.sistants.

The barrister wondered whether Mlle. Beaucaire had taken her father completely into her confidence. To make certain he questioned the waiter.

”Is Monsieur Beaucaire in?” he said.

”But yes, monsieur. You will find him in the billiard-room.”

This time Brett was not conducted through the private pa.s.sage that led through the rear of the bar. The man politely indicated another entrance, and brought him to the proprietor with the introductory remark--

”A gentleman who wishes to see you.”

The room was tenanted by a nondescript crowd, whose attention was promptly attracted by the appearance of a stranger, and a well-dressed one at that.

The games in progress at the two tables were momentarily suspended, whilst Gros Jean, a corpulent man above the middle height, whose legs seemed to be too frail to support his rotund body, advanced, peering curiously beneath his bushy eyebrows to get a glimpse of the newcomer, for the shaded light did not fall on Brett's features, and M. Beaucaire wondered who the stranger could be. The barrister almost started when he recognized his fellow-pa.s.senger, the man who travelled to Paris with Gaultier and himself. Gros Jean bowed politely enough, and murmured something about being at Brett's service.

”Oh, it is nothing of great importance,” said Brett airily, as he was not anxious to attract too much observation from the unwashed humanity who took such interest in him. ”I merely wish to know when it will be convenient for me to have some conversation with mademoiselle, your charming daughter?”

”May I inquire the reason, monsieur?” said the other.

”Certainly. I have heard of her skill as an artist, and it is possible I may be able to arrange a London engagement for her.”

”Ah,” said the landlord deprecatingly, ”what a pity! Had monsieur called here yesterday he could have seen mademoiselle. She has now left Paris for some weeks.”

”Perhaps,” said Brett, ”I may have the pleasure of meeting her elsewhere. I myself depart to-morrow on a tour in the South of France.

It is possible that mademoiselle may be employed in some of the southern cities. If so I will certainly make it my business to call on her.”

Beaucaire came a step nearer. Clearly he did not recall the barrister's face. He knew well that his daughter's attainments were not such as to command the eager search of London theatrical managers, yet he was a.s.sured that the individual who now addressed him was not an ordinary music-hall agent, hunting up fees.

He lowered his voice, after an angry glance at the loungers in the room, which caused them to turn to the tables with redoubled interest.

”I regret,” he said, ”that mademoiselle is not professionally engaged at this moment. Indeed, she has not appeared in public for some months. May I ask how monsieur came to hear of her name?”

”It is the easiest matter in the world,” said Brett with his ready smile, producing his note-book and rapidly turning over the leaves. ”I have here the names and addresses of a large number of artists whom I was recommended to visit. Mademoiselle's name was given to me among others at the Cirque d'Hiver, where I heard most encouraging accounts of her skill. You see, monsieur,” he went on, ”that in England the public are not acquainted with any other language than their own, and when Continental artists are engaged we prefer those whose performance consists chiefly of acrobatic or other feats in which dialogue is unnecessary.”

The barrister's ready explanation was sufficient. Nevertheless Beaucaire was puzzled. But even the most vulgar or brutal Frenchman is endowed with a certain amount of politeness, and in this instance Gros Jean felt that his visitor should be treated deferentially.

”I am most sorry,” he cried, ”to be unable to a.s.sist monsieur any further. If, however, you leave me your address I will communicate with you after I have heard from my daughter. I have no doubt that she will readily come to terms.”

”I think you said that mademoiselle was in the South of France?”

observed Brett casually.

Instantly Beaucaire became suspicious again.

”No,” he replied shortly; ”I do not think I said so.”