Part 16 (1/2)
Twenty minutes later Lecoq entered this well-known jeweler's establishment. Van Numen had not been mistaken. Doisty immediately recognized the earring, which had, indeed, come from his shop. But whom had he sold it to? He could not recollect, for it had pa.s.sed out of his hands three or four years before.
”Wait a moment though,” said he, ”I will just ask my wife, who has a wonderful memory.”
Madame Doisty truly deserved this eulogium. A single glance at the jewel enabled her to say that she had seen this earring before, and that the pair had been purchased from them by the Marchioness d'Arlange.
”You must recollect,” she added, turning to her husband, ”that the Marchioness only gave us nine thousand francs on account, and that we had all the trouble in the world to make her pay the balance.”
Her husband did remember this circ.u.mstance; and in recording his recollection, he exchanged a significant glance with his wife.
”Now,” said the detective, ”I should like to have this marchioness's address.”
”She lives in the Faubourg St. Germain,” replied Madame Doisty, ”near the Esplanade des Invalides.”
Lecoq had refrained from any sign of satisfaction while he was in the jeweler's presence. But directly he had left the shop he evinced such delirious joy that the pa.s.sers-by asked themselves in amazement if he were not mad. He did not walk, but fairly danced over the stones, gesticulating in the most ridiculous fas.h.i.+on as he addressed this triumphant monologue to the empty air: ”At last,” said he, ”this affair emerges from the mystery that has enshrouded it. At last I reach the veritable actors in the drama, the exalted personages whose existence I had suspected. Ah! Gevrol, my ill.u.s.trious General! you talked about a Russian princess, but you will be obliged to content yourself with a simple marchioness.”
But the vertigo that had seized the young detective gradually disappeared. His good sense rea.s.serted itself, and, looking calmly at the situation, he felt that he should need all his presence of mind, penetration, and sagacity to bring the expedition to a successful finish. What course should he pursue, on entering the marchioness's presence, in order to draw from her a full confession and to obtain full particulars of the murder, as well as the murderer's name!
”It will be best to threaten her, to frighten her into confession,” he soliloquized. ”If I give her time for reflection, I shall learn nothing.”
He paused in his cogitations, for he had reached the residence of the Marchioness d'Arlange-a charming mansion with a courtyard in front and garden in the rear. Before entering, he deemed it advisable to obtain some information concerning the inmates.
”It is here, then,” he murmured, ”that I am to find the solution of the enigma! Here, behind these embroidered curtains, dwells the frightened fugitive of the other night. What agony of fear must torture her since she has discovered the loss of her earring!”
For more than an hour, standing under a neighbor's porte cochere, Lecoq remained watching the house. He would have liked to see the face of any one; but the time pa.s.sed by and not even a shadow could be detected behind the curtain; not even a servant pa.s.sed across the courtyard. At last, losing patience, the young detective determined to make inquiries in the neighborhood, for he could not take a decisive step without obtaining some knowledge of the people he was to encounter. While wondering where he could obtain the information he required, he perceived, on the opposite side of the street, the keeper of a wine-shop smoking on his doorstep.
At once approaching and pretending that he had forgotten an address, Lecoq politely asked for the house where Marchioness d'Arlange resided. Without a word, and without condescending to take his pipe from his mouth, the man pointed to the mansion which Lecoq had previously watched.
There was a way, however, to make him more communicative, namely, to enter the shop, call for something to drink, and invite the landlord to drink as well. This was what Lecoq did, and the sight of two well-filled gla.s.ses unbound, as by enchantment, the man's. .h.i.therto silent tongue. The young detective could not have found a better person to question, for this same individual had been established in the neighborhood for ten years, and enjoyed among the servants of the aristocratic families here residing a certain amount of confidence.
”I pity you if you are going to the marchioness's house to collect a bill,” he remarked to Lecoq. ”You will have plenty of time to learn the way here before you see your money. You will only be another of the many creditors who never let her bell alone.”
”The deuce! Is she as poor as that?”
”Poor! Why, every one knows that she has a comfortable income, without counting this house. But when one spends double one's income every year, you know-”
The landlord stopped short, to call Lecoq's attention to two ladies who were pa.s.sing along the street, one of them, a woman of forty, dressed in black; the other, a girl half-way through her teens. ”There,” quoth the wine-seller, ”goes the marchioness's granddaughter, Mademoiselle Claire, with her governess, Mademoiselle Smith.”
Lecoq's head whirled. ”Her granddaughter!” he stammered.
”Yes-the daughter of her deceased son, if you prefer it.”
”How old is the marchioness, then?”
”At least sixty: but one would never suspect it. She is one of those persons who live a hundred years. And what an old wretch she is too. She would think no more of knocking me over the head than I would of emptying this gla.s.s of wine-”
”Excuse me,” interrupted Lecoq, ”but does she live alone in that great house?”
”Yes-that is-with her granddaughter, the governess, and two servants. But what is the matter with you?”
This last question was not uncalled for; for Lecoq had turned deadly white. The magic edifice of his hopes had crumbled beneath the weight of this man's words as completely as if it were some frail house of cards erected by a child. He had only sufficient strength to murmur: ”Nothing-nothing at all.”
Then, as he could endure this torture of uncertainty no longer, he went toward the marchioness's house and rang the bell. The servant who came to open the door examined him attentively, and then announced that Madame d'Arlange was in the country. He evidently fancied that Lecoq was a creditor.
But the young detective insisted so adroitly, giving the lackey to understand so explicitly that he did not come to collect money, and speaking so earnestly of urgent business, that the servant finally admitted him to the hall, saying that he would go and see if madame had really gone out.
Fortunately for Lecoq, she happened to be at home, and an instant afterward the valet returned requesting the young detective to follow him. After pa.s.sing through a large and magnificently furnished drawing-room, they reached a charming boudoir, hung with rose-colored curtains, where, sitting by the fireside, in a large easy-chair, Lecoq found an old woman, tall, bony, and terrible of aspect, her face loaded with paint, and her person covered with ornaments. The aged coquette was Madame, the Marchioness, who, for the time being, was engaged in knitting a strip of green wool. She turned toward her visitor just enough to show him the rouge on one cheek, and then, as he seemed rather frightened-a fact flattering to her vanity-she spoke in an affable tone. ”Ah, well young man,” said she, ”what brings you here?”
In point of fact, Lecoq was not frightened, but he was intensely disappointed to find that Madame d'Arlange could not possibly be one of the women who had escaped from the Widow Chupin's hovel on the night of the murder. There was nothing about her appearance that corresponded in the least degree with the descriptions given by Papillon.
Remembering the small footprints left in the snow by the two fugitives, the young detective glanced, moreover, at the marchioness's feet, just perceivable beneath her skirt, and his disappointment reached its climax when he found that they were truly colossal in size.
”Well, are you dumb?” inquired the old lady, raising her voice.
Without making a direct reply, Lecoq produced the precious earring, and, placing it upon the table beside the marchioness, remarked: ”I bring you this jewel, madame, which I have found, and which, I am told, belongs to you.”
Madame d'Arlange laid down her knitting and proceeded to examine the earring. ”It is true,” she said, after a moment, ”that this ornament formerly belonged to me. It was a fancy I had, about four years ago, and it cost me dear-at least twenty thousand francs. Ah! Doisty, the man who sold me those diamonds, must make a handsome income. But I had a granddaughter to educate and pressing need of money compelled me to sell them.”
”To whom?” asked Lecoq, eagerly.
”Eh?” exclaimed the old lady, evidently shocked at his audacity, ”you are very inquisitive upon my word!”
”Excuse me, madame, but I am anxious to find the owner of this valuable ornament.”
Madame d'Arlange regarded her visitor with an air of mingled curiosity and surprise. ”Such honesty!” said she. ”Oh, oh! And of course you don't hope for a sou by way of reward-”
”Madame!”
”Good, good! There is not the least need for you to turn as red as a poppy, young man. I sold these diamonds to a great Austrian lady-the Baroness de Watchau.”
”And where does this lady reside?”
”At the Pere la Chaise, probably, since she died about a year ago. Ah! these women of the present day-an extra waltz, or the merest draft, and it's all over with them! In my time, after each gallop, we girls used to swallow a tumbler of sweetened wine, and sit down between two open doors. And we did very well, as you see.”
”But, madame,” insisted Lecoq, ”the Baroness de Watchau must have left some one behind her-a husband, or children-”
”No one but a brother, who holds a court position at Vienna: and who could not leave even to attend the funeral. He sent orders that all his sister's personal property should be sold-not even excepting her wardrobe-and the money sent to him.”
Lecoq could not repress an exclamation of disappointment. ”How unfortunate!” he murmured.
”Why?” asked the old lady. ”Under these circ.u.mstances, the diamond will probably remain in your hands, and I am rejoiced that it should be so. It will be a fitting reward for your honesty.”
Madame d'Arlange was naturally not aware that her remark implied the most exquisite torture for Lecoq. Ah! if it should be as she said, if he should never find the lady who had lost this costly jewel! Smarting under the marchioness's unintended irony, he would have liked to apostrophize her in angry terms; but it could not be, for it was advisable if not absolutely necessary that he should conceal his true ident.i.ty. Accordingly, he contrived to smile, and even stammered an acknowledgment of Madame d'Arlange's good wishes. Then, as if he had no more to expect, he made her a low bow and withdrew.
This new misfortune well-nigh overwhelmed him. One by one all the threads upon which he had relied to guide him out of this intricate labyrinth were breaking in his hands. In the present instance he could scarcely be the dupe of some fresh comedy, for if the murderer's accomplice had taken Doisty, the jeweler, into his confidence he would have instructed him to say that the earring had never come from his establishment, and that he could not consequently tell whom it had been sold to. On the contrary, however, Doisty and his wife had readily given Madame d'Arlange's name, and all the circ.u.mstances pointed in favor of their sincerity. Then, again, there was good reason to believe in the veracity of the marchioness's a.s.sertions. They were sufficiently authenticated by a significant glance which Lecoq had detected between the jeweler and his wife. The meaning of this glance could not be doubted. It implied plainly that both husband and wife were of opinion that in buying these earrings the marchioness engaged in one of those little speculations which are more common than many people might suppose among ladies moving in high-cla.s.s society. Being in urgent want of ready money, she had bought on credit at a high price to sell for cash at a loss.