Part 14 (2/2)

The French n.o.ble, who was the Chevalier Chateau Bla.s.semare, unlike most _emigres_ had taken the matter in time, sold a large portion of his property before the revolution had proceeded so far as to render that next to impossible, and retired with a large sum. He brought with him about half a million of francs, the greater part of which he invested in the French funds; a much larger sum remained in Austrian land and securities. You will observe then that this gentleman was rich, and there was no allegation of his having lost money, or being in any way embarra.s.sed. You see?”

I a.s.sented.

”This gentleman's habits were not expensive in proportion to his means.

He had suitable lodgings in Paris; and for a time, society, and theaters, and other reasonable amus.e.m.e.nts, engrossed him. He did not play. He was a middleaged man, affecting youth, with the vanities which are usual in such persons; but, for the rest, he was a gentle and polite person, who disturbed n.o.body--a person, you see, not likely to provoke an enmity.”

”Certainly not,” I agreed.

”Early in the summer of 1811 he got an order permitting him to copy a picture in one of these _salons_, and came down here, to Versailles, for the purpose. His work was getting on slowly. After a time he left his hotel here, and went, by way of change, to the Dragon Volant; there he took, by special choice, the bedroom which has fallen to you by chance. From this time, it appeared, he painted little; and seldom visited his apartments in Paris. One night he saw the host of the Dragon Volant, and told him that he was going into Paris, to remain for a day or two, on very particular business; that his servant would accompany him, but that he would retain his apartments at the Dragon Volant, and return in a few days. He left some clothes there, but packed a portmanteau, took his dressing case and the rest, and, with his servant behind his carriage, drove into Paris. You observe all this, Monsieur?”

”Most attentively,” I answered.

”Well, Monsieur, as soon as they were approaching his lodgings, he stopped the carriage on a sudden, told his servant that he had changed his mind; that he would sleep elsewhere that night, that he had very particular business in the north of France, not far from Rouen, that he would set out before daylight on his journey, and return in a fortnight.

He called a _fiacre_, took in his hand a leather bag which, the servant said, was just large enough to hold a few s.h.i.+rts and a coat, but that it was enormously heavy, as he could testify, for he held it in his hand, while his master took out his purse to count thirty-six Napoleons, for which the servant was to account when he should return. He then sent him on, in the carriage; and he, with the bag I have mentioned, got into the _fiacre_. Up to that, you see, the narrative is quite clear.”

”Perfectly,” I agreed.

”Now comes the mystery,” said Monsieur Carmaignac. ”After that, the Count Chateau Bla.s.semare was never more seen, so far as we can make out, by acquaintance or friend. We learned that the day before the Count's stockbroker had, by his direction, sold all his stock in the French funds, and handed him the cash it realized. The reason he gave him for this measure tallied with what he said to his servant. He told him that he was going to the north of France to settle some claims, and did not know exactly how much might be required. The bag, which had puzzled the servant by its weight, contained, no doubt, a large sum in gold. Will Monsieur try my snuff?”

He politely tendered his open snuff-box, of which I partook, experimentally.

”A reward was offered,” he continued, ”when the inquiry was inst.i.tuted, for any information tending to throw a light upon the mystery, which might be afforded by the driver of the _fiacre_ 'employed on the night of' (so-and-so), 'at about the hour of half-past ten, by a gentleman, with a black-leather bag-bag in his hand, who descended from a private carriage, and gave his servant some money, which he counted twice over.' About a hundred-and-fifty drivers applied, but not one of them was the right man. We did, however, elicit a curious and unexpected piece of evidence in quite another quarter. What a racket that plaguey harlequin makes with his sword!”

”Intolerable!” I chimed in.

The harlequin was soon gone, and he resumed.

”The evidence I speak of came from a boy, about twelve years old, who knew the appearance of the Count perfectly, having been often employed by him as a messenger. He stated that about half-past twelve o'clock, on the same night--upon which you are to observe, there was a brilliant moon--he was sent, his mother having been suddenly taken ill, for the _sage femme_ who lived within a stone's throw of the Dragon Volant.

His father's house, from which he started, was a mile away, or more, from that inn, in order to reach which he had to pa.s.s round the park of the Cheteau de la Carque, at the site most remote from the point to which he was going. It pa.s.ses the old churchyard of St. Aubin, which is separated from the road only by a very low fence, and two or three enormous old trees. The boy was a little nervous as he approached this ancient cemetery; and, under the bright moonlight, he saw a man whom he distinctly recognized as the Count, whom they designated by a sobriquet which means 'the man of smiles.' He was looking rueful enough now, and was seated on the side of a tombstone, on which he had laid a pistol, while he was ramming home the charge of another.

”The boy got cautiously by, on tiptoe, with his eyes all the time on the Count Chateau Bla.s.sernare, or the man he mistook for him--his dress was not what he usually wore, but the witness swore that he could not be mistaken as to his ident.i.ty. He said his face looked grave and stern; but though he did not smile, it was the same face he knew so well.

Nothing would make him swerve from that. If that were he, it was the last time he was seen. He has never been heard of since. Nothing could be heard of him in the neighborhood of Rouen. There has been no evidence of his death; and there is no sign that he is living.”

”That certainly is a most singular case,” I replied, and was about to ask a question or two, when Tom Whistlewick who, without my observing it, had been taking a ramble, returned, a great deal more awake, and a great deal less tipsy.

”I say, Carmaignac, it is getting late, and I must go; I really must, for the reason I told you--and, Beckett, we must soon meet again.”

”I regret very much, Monsieur, my not being able at present to relate to you the other case, that of another tenant of the very same room--a case more mysterious and sinister than the last--and which occurred in the autumn of the same year.”

”Will you both do a very good-natured thing, and come and dine with me at the Dragon Volant tomorrow?”

So, as we pursued our way along the Galerie des Glaces, I extracted their promise.

”By Jove!” said Whistlewick, when this was done; ”look at that paG.o.da, or sedan chair, or whatever it is, just where those fellows set it down, and not one of them near it! I can't imagine how they tell fortunes so devilish well. Jack Nuffles--I met him here tonight--says they are gypsies--where are they, I wonder? I'll go over and have a peep at the prophet.”

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