Chapter II.4
M. de Tregars and Maxence were in luck. They had a good driver and a fair horse; and in twenty minutes they were at the trunk store. As soon as the cab stopped, "Well," exclaimed M. de Tregars, "I suppose it has to be done."
And, with the look of a man who has made up his mind to do something which is extremely repugnant to him, he jumped out, and, followed by Maxence, entered the shop.
It was a modest establishment; and the people who kept it, husband and wife, seeing two customers coming in, rushed to meet them, with that welcoming smile which blossoms upon the lips of every Parisian shopkeeper.
"What will you have, gentlemen?"
And, with wonderful volubility, they went on enumerating every article which they had for sale in their shop,--from the "indispensable-necessary," containing seventy-seven pieces of solid silver, and costing four thousand francs, down to the humblest carpet-bag at thirty-nine cents.
But Marius de Tregars interrupted them as soon as he could get an opportunity, and, showing them their bill, "It was here, wasn't it," he inquired, "that the two trunks were bought which are charged in this bill?"
"Yes, sir," answered simultaneously both husband and wife. "When were they delivered?"
"Our porter went to deliver them, less than two hours after they were bought."
"Where?"
By this time the shopkeepers were beginning to exchange uneasy looks.
"Why do you ask?" inquired the woman in a tone which indicated that she had the settled intention not to answer, unless for good and valid reason.
To obtain the simplest information is not always as easy as might be supposed. The suspicion of the Parisian tradesman is easily aroused; and, as his head is stuffed with stories of spies and robbers, as soon as he is questioned he becomes as dumb as an oyster.
But M. de Tregars had foreseen the difficulty:
"I beg you to believe, madame," he went on, "that my questions are not dictated by an idle curiosity. Here are the facts. A relative of ours, a man of a certain age, of whom we are very fond, and whose head is a little weak, left his home some forty-eight hours since. We are looking for him, and we are in hopes, if we find these trunks, to find him at the same time."
With furtive glances, the husband and wife were tacitly consulting each other.
"The fact is," they said, "we wouldn't like, under any consideration, to commit an indiscretion which might result to the prejudice of a customer."
"Fear nothing," said M. de Tregars with a reassuring gesture. "If we have not had recourse to the police, it's because, you know, it isn't pleasant to have the police interfere in one's affairs. If you have any objections to answer me, however, I must, of course, apply to the commissary."
The argument proved decisive.
"If that's the case," replied the woman, "I am ready to tell all I know."
"Well, then, madame, what do you know?"
"These two trunks were bought on Friday afternoon last, by a man of a certain age, tall, very thin, with a stern countenance, and wearing a long frock coat."
"No more doubt," murmured Maxence. "It was he."
"And now," the woman went on, "that you have just told me that your relative was a little weak in the head, I remember that this gentleman had a strange sort of way about him, and that he kept walking about the store as if he had fleas on his legs. And awful particular he was too! Nothing was handsome enough and strong enough for him; and he was anxious about the safety-locks, as he had, he said, many objects of value, papers, and securities, to put away."
"And where did he tell you to send the two trunks?"
"Rue du Cirque, to Mme.--wait a minute, I have the name at the end of my tongue."
"You must have it on your books, too," remarked M. de Tregars. The husband was already looking over his blotter.
"April 26, 1872," he said. "26, here it is: 'Two leather trunks, patent safety-locks: Mme. Zelie Cadelle, 49 Rue du Cirque.'"
Without too much affectation, M. de Tregars had drawn near to the shopkeeper, and was looking over his shoulder.
"What is that," he asked, "written there, below the address?"
"That, sir, is the direction left by the customer 'Mark on each end of the trunks, in large letters, "Rio de Janeiro."'"
Maxence could not suppress an exclamation. "Oh!"
But the tradesman mistook him; and, seizing this magnificent opportunity to display his knowledge, "Rio de Janeiro is the capital of Brazil," he said in a tone of importance. "And your relative evidently intended to go there; and, if he has not changed his mind, I doubt whether you can overtake him; for the Brazilian steamer was to have sailed yesterday from Havre."
Whatever may have been his intentions, M. de Tregars remained perfectly calm. "If that's the case," he said to the shopkeepers, "I think I had better give up the chase. I am much obliged to you, however, for your information."
But, once out again, "Do you really believe," inquired Maxence, "that my father has left France?" M. de Tregars shook his head.
"I will give you my opinion," he uttered, "after I have investigated matters in the Rue du Cirque."
They drove there in a few minutes; and, the cab having stopped at the entrance of the street, they walked on foot in front of No. 49. It was a small cottage, only one story in height, built between a sanded court-yard and a garden, whose tall trees showed above the roof. At the windows could be seen curtains of light- colored silk, --a sure indication of the presence of a young and pretty woman.
For a few minutes Marius de Tregars remained in observation; but, as nothing stirred, "We must find out something, somehow," he exclaimed impatiently.
And noticing a large grocery store bearing No. 62, he directed his steps towards it, still accompanied by Maxence.
It was the hour of the day when customers are rare. Standing in the centre of the shop, the grocer, a big fat man with an air of importance, was overseeing his men, who were busy putting things in order.
M. de Tregars took him aside, and with an accent of mystery, "I am," he said, "a clerk with M. Drayton, the jeweler in the Rue de la Paix; and I come to ask you one of those little favors which tradespeople owe to each other."
A frown appeared on the fat man's countenance. He thought, perhaps, that M. Drayton's clerks were rather too stylish-looking; or else, perhaps, he felt apprehensive of one of those numerous petty swindles of which shopkeepers are constantly the victims.
"What is it?" said he. "Speak!"
"I am on my way," spoke M. de Tregars, "to deliver a ring which a lady purchased of us yesterday. She is not a regular customer, and has given us no references. If she doesn't pay, shall I leave the ring? My employer told me, 'Consult some prominent tradesman of the neighborhood, and follow his advice.'"
Prominent tradesman! Delicately tickled vanity was dancing in the grocer's eyes. "What is the name of the lady?" he inquired.
"Mme. Zelie Cadelle."
The grocer burst out laughing.
"In that case, my boy," he said, tapping familiarly the shoulder of the so-called clerk, "whether she pays or not, you can deliver the article."
The familiarity was not, perhaps, very much to the taste of the Marquis de Tregars. No matter.
"She is rich, then, that lady?" he said.
"Personally no. But she is protected by an old fool, who allows her all her fancies."
"Indeed!"
"It is scandalous; and you cannot form an idea of the amount of money that is spent in that house. Horses, carriages, servants, dresses, balls, dinners, card- playing all night, a perpetual carnival: it must be ruinous!"
M. de Tregars never winced.
"And the old man who pays?" he asked; "do you know him?"
"I have seen him pass,--a tall, lean, old fellow, who doesn't look very rich, either. But excuse me: here is a customer I must wait upon."
Having walked out into the street, "We must separate now," declared M. de Tregars to Maxence. "What! You wish to"
"Go and wait for me in that cafe yonder, at the corner of the street. I must see that Zelie Cadelle and speak to her."
And without suffering an objection on the part of Maxence, he walked resolutely up to the cottage-gate, and rang vigorously.
At the sound of the bell, one of those servants stepped out into the yard, who seem manufactured on purpose, heaven knows where, for the special service of young ladies who keep house,--a tall rascal with sallow complexion and straight hair, a cynical eye, and a low, impudent smile.
"What do you wish, sir?" he inquired through the grating.
"That you should open the door, first," uttered M. de Tregars, with such a look and such an accent, that the other obeyed at once.
"And now," he added, "go and announce me to Mme. Zelie Cadelle."
"Madame is out," replied the valet.
And noticing that M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders, "Upon my word," he said, "she has gone to the bois with one of her friends. If you won't believe me, ask my comrades there."
And he pointed out two other servants of the same pattern as himself, who were silting at a table in the carriage-house, playing cards, and drinking.
But M. de Tregars did not mean to be imposed upon. He felt certain that the man was lying. Instead, therefore, of discussing, "I want you to take me to your mistress," he ordered, in a tone that admitted of no objection; "or else I'll find my way to her alone."
It was evident that he would do just as he said, by force if needs be. The valet saw this, and, after hesitating a moment longer, "Come along, then," he said, "since you insist so much. We'll talk to the chamb