Part 12 (1/2)
”Not at all,” was the sharp reply of the culprit.
”Monsieur, you shock me. Do you consider that your conduct is not criminal? I have here”--he placed his hand on a book--”the Statutes of Victoria, and it lays down with wholesome severity the law concerning the theft of the affection of a wife, with the accompanying penalty, going as high as twenty thousand dollars.”
George Ma.s.son gasped. Here was a new turn of affairs. But he set his teeth.
”Twenty thousand dollars--think of that!” he sneered angrily.
”That is what I said, monsieur. I said I could save you money, and money saved is money earned. I am your benefactor, if you will but permit me to be so, monsieur. I would save you from the law, and from the damages which the law gives. Can you not guess what would be given in a court of the Catholic province of Quebec, against the violation of a good man's home? Do you not see that the business is urgent?”
”Not at all,” curtly replied the master-carpenter. M. Fille bridled up, and his spare figure seemed to gain courage and dignity.
”If you think I will hold my peace unless you give your sacred pledge, you are mistaken, monsieur. I am no meddler, but I have had much kindness at the hands of Monsieur and Madame Barbille, and I will do what I can to protect them and their daughter--that good and sweet daughter, from the machinations, corruptions and malfeasance--”
”Three d.a.m.n good words for the Court, bagos.h.!.+” exclaimed Ma.s.son with a jeer.
”No, with a man devoid of honour, I shall not hesitate, for the Manor Cartier has been the home of domestic peace, and madame, who came to us a stranger, deserves well of the people of that ancient abode of chivalry-the chivalry of France.”
”When we are wound up, what a humming we can make!” laughed George Ma.s.son sourly. ”Have you quite finished, m'sieu'?”
”The matter is urgent, you will admit, monsieur?” again demanded M.
Fille with austerity.
”Not at all.”
The master-carpenter was defiant and insolent, yet there was a devilish kind of humour in his tone as in his att.i.tude.
”You will not heed the warning I give?” The little Clerk pointed to the open page of the Victorian statutes before him.
”Not at all.”
”Then I shall, with profound regret--”
Suddenly George Ma.s.son thrust his face forward near that of M. Fille, who did not draw back.
”You will inform the Court that the prisoner refuses to incriminate himself, eh?” he interjected.
”No, monsieur, I will inform Monsieur Barbille of what I saw. I will do this without delay. It is the one thing left me to do.”
In quite a grand kind of way he stood up and bowed, as though to dismiss his visitor.
As George Ma.s.son did not move, the other went to the door and opened it. ”It is the only thing left to do,” he repeated, as he made a gentle gesture of dismissal.
”Not at all, my legal bombardier. Not at all, I say. All you know Jean Jacques knows, and a good deal more--what he has seen with his own eyes, and understood with his own mind, without legal help. So, you see, you've kept me here talking when there's no need and while my business waits. It is urgent, M'sieu' la Fillette--your business is stale. It belongs to last session of the Court.” He laughed at his joke. ”M'sieu'
Jean Jacques and I understand each other.” He laughed grimly now. ”We know each other like a book, and the Clerk of the Court couldn't get in an adjective that would make the sense of it all clearer.”
Slowly M. Fille shut the door, and very slowly he came back. Almost blindly, as it might seem, and with a moan, he dropped into his chair.
His eyes fixed themselves on George Ma.s.son.
”Ah--that!” he said helplessly. ”That! The little Zoe--dear G.o.d, the little Zoe, and the poor madame!” His voice was aching with pain and repugnance.