Part 22 (1/2)
”Your love, monsieur, my admiration and respect. These I certainly have for the lady who is to be your wife. Your love will hardly grudge me them.”
”I believe I might have found a dangerous rival, were you not a man of honor,” said Bruslart. ”We understand each other better than we did this morning. Heavens! what a wealth of hours seem to have pa.s.sed since then. We fight together for mademoiselle's safety. I will go at once to the Abbaye, that is the prison you think they were going to. And you, monsieur, what will you do?”
”I shall set my servant to watch Latour, and there are one or two others in this city whose movements will interest me.”
”You must be careful of Latour.”
”He will be wise to be careful of me too. There is some aristocrat Raymond Latour would do all in his power to help. That is a secret we may use against him if necessary.”
”Did he tell you that?”
”We became friends over a bottle of wine.”
”Ah, men boast and tell lies over their wine,” Bruslart answered, ”and for his own ends Latour can lie very convincingly. Will you come to me here to-morrow night? I may have accomplished something by then.”
They left the house together, but parted in the street, Barrington returning to the house of Monsieur Fargeau to plan with Seth the close watching of Latour's movements, Bruslart going in the direction of the prison of the Abbaye.
Bruslart's pace was rapid for a short distance, then he went more slowly and thoughtfully; but there was no relapse into the despair in which Barrington had found him that evening. Contact with a strong man, and the compact made with him, had apparently restored his nerves, and no one knew better than he did how necessary it was to have every faculty in working order at the present moment. He had told Barrington that he was in no danger from the fact of mademoiselle having been arrested in his apartments, and if this were not quite true, he felt certain that he could evade the danger by presenting a bold front to it. The desire to convince himself that this was possible became stronger as he proceeded slowly, and opportunity to put his conviction to the test might easily be found.
”There would be no one at the prison to-night on whom I could make any useful impression,” he said to himself. ”I shall gain more by swaggering to the crowd.”
He quickened his pace, but not in the direction of the prison. He turned into a side street, at the corner of which was a broken lamp bracket used for hanging a man not a week ago. He glanced up at it as he pa.s.sed, recognizing perhaps that he was as a skater on thin ice, his safety entirely dependent upon his agility, as he made his way to the flare of light which came from a wine shop.
The place was full and noisy, but there was a sudden silence as he entered. He was well-known here, and every pair of eyes was fixed upon him keenly. That he bore the scrutiny without flinching proved him to be no coward. The att.i.tude of the crowd in the wine shop was not rea.s.suring. His task was to be more difficult than he imagined, and he rose to the occasion. With a careless nod intended to comprehend every one in the room, and as though he perceived nothing extraordinary in the manner of his reception, he crossed the room to a man who had suspended his game of cards to stare at him.
”Good evening, Citizen Sabatier; you can tell me something. Was that aristocrat taken to the Abbaye this afternoon or where?”
”To the Abbaye.”
”I was going to the prison to ask, then thought I might save myself a journey by coming here on my way. Wine, landlord--the best, and in these days the best is bad. You were not at the taking of this aristocrat, Sabatier?” and as he asked the question Bruslart seated himself.
”No. I had other business.”
”It is a pity. Had you been there the affair would have been conducted with more order.”
”I was there, Citizen Bruslart,” said a man, thrusting forward his head truculently. ”What is there to complain of?”
Bruslart looked at him, then leaned toward Sabatier and said in an audible aside--
”A new friend? I do not seem to remember him.”
”Citizen Boissin, a worthy man,” said Sabatier, shortly. He knew that the men in the wine shop were likely to follow his lead, and he was at a loss to know how to treat Lucien Bruslart to-night.
”Ay, Boissin, that's my name, and he asks you what you have to complain of?”
”Much, very much, citizen. It is not enough that a cursed aristocrat uses my lodgings as a shelter while I am away from home, but a crowd of unauthorized persons invade it and break a cabinet for which I have a great affection. Maybe, since you were there, Citizen Boissin, you can tell me who broke my cabinet.”
”Curse your cabinet!”
”Curse you for coming to my lodgings without an invitation,” said Bruslart, quietly.