The Red Lottery Ticket Part 9

"Yes; but as it could not be of the slightest use to them, I hoped I should regain possession of it. I took good care to note the number of the cab, and you see I accomplished my object, as I have succeeded in finding you."

"That is to say, you suppose I am one of the persons who were in the cab at the time."

"I am sure of it, and I am also sure that, touched by the trying situation in which I am placed, you will return the pocket-book to me."

"You are too hasty in your conclusions, for even if the article were in my possession, I should not return it without due consideration. In the first place, I should have to know whom I have to deal with, for there is nothing to prove that you are not an emissary of the man, who, as you pretend, hired some fellows to follow you. You would have to tell me your name and address, in order that I might make the necessary inquiries respecting you."

"My name and address are a secret that I am not free to divulge. Be more generous. Restore me the letters without demanding my name. It would be a most kind and n.o.ble action, and later on, I shall be able to repay the debt of grat.i.tude I owe you." Puymirol seemed in no haste to reply. He now felt sure that Dargental's murderer sat before him, and he was asking himself what course he had better pursue. "I can now confess that I fully expected to purchase the pocket-book from the finder," continued the stranger. "I was ready and willing to give him as many thousand francs as he chose to ask for it; but, on seeing you, I realised that such a course was out of the question. One can not offer money to a gentleman like you. One can only appeal to his feelings, and invoke his pity for an imprudent woman."

"You argue exactly as if I had the letters in my pocket," said Adhemar, in order to gain time.

"In your pocket, or in your desk at home, which amounts to the same thing, as it is in your power to restore them to me in either case."

"You would consent to accompany me home, then?"

"Instantly, if you wish it."

"But I don't wish it. You refuse to tell me where you live, so I don't see why I should tell you where I live."

"Well, there is nothing to prevent you from making an appointment with me for to-morrow at this same restaurant."

"I only make appointments with my friends."

"Am I to take this as your final answer?"

"Yes, and I will now state my reasons. I did see this pocket-book. It fell into my lap. Now that you have enlightened me, there is no reason why I should deny the fact any longer. But, as for returning the article, it is impossible, as it is no longer in my possession."

"You can at least tell me what you have done with it."

"I did what any one else would have done with it. I left it at the office of the commissary of police."

The stranger turned perceptibly paler, but he did not lose countenance.

"At the office of the commissary of the Chaussee d'Antin district?" he asked.

"Do you think of claiming the article?" rejoined Puymirol, wis.h.i.+ng to evade this rather embarra.s.sing question.

"Possibly. Before doing so, however, I must consult the person who is most interested in the matter. But you, no doubt, opened the pocket-book before taking it to the commissary's office?"

"Yes; and on discovering that it only contained some papers, my first impulse was to throw it out of the window, but on reflection I said to myself: Russian leather has its value, and I thought that the papers might furnish a clue to the owner of the article."

"Did you read the letters?"

"I glanced at them, and seeing that they bore no signature I replaced them in the pocket-book," replied Puymirol, at the same time suddenly noticing the direction of the stranger's glance, which was turned upon his--Puymirol's chest. Instinctively raising his hand he found that one end of the pocket-book was now projecting from his breast-pocket. He had unb.u.t.toned his coat on sitting down to dinner, but he now hastily closed it again.

"I am greatly obliged to you," said the stranger, slowly. "For I now know where the letters are. I am very sorry to have troubled you, and I will not inflict my company upon you any longer." With these words he rose, returned to his table, and asked the waiter for his bill.

"I see your little game," thought Puymirol, "you intend to follow me when I leave the restaurant. Try it, old fellow, we shall see." And then, wis.h.i.+ng to be quite free in his movements, he also asked for his score.

The two bills were brought at the same time. They both paid, and the stranger rose to go. While he was putting on his overcoat, however, Puymirol asked in a loud voice for some cigars of a particular brand, which, as he knew perfectly well, was not kept in the house. This was done solely for the purpose of convincing the stranger that he did not intend to leave the table for several minutes, and the fellow fell into the trap. Puymirol saw him pa.s.s down the main staircase, and disappear behind the curtains of the vestibule. A moment afterwards, he also rose, slipped on his overcoat, and pa.s.sed out, not by the main exit, but by a side-door, communicating with the Hotel du Helder, of which the restaurant is an adjunct. He duly proceeded to the hotel entrance, and, peering out, looked up and down the street. It was dark, and no foot pa.s.sengers were visible, but, finally, inside a wine-shop, brilliantly lighted up and only a few yards off, he saw a person standing near the gla.s.s door with his eyes fixed on the restaurant. Puymirol waited ten minutes or more watching this man, and at last the gla.s.s door opened, and the fellow crossed the street to the Lion d'Or and spoke to the doorkeeper, who at once darted up the stairs leading to the restaurant.

"Good!" thought Puymirol, "the scoundrel wants to find out if I am still at table. When he finds that I have left he will decamp without loss of time. I hope the head-waiter won't tell him which way I went out. But if he does, this man will never suspect that I am still here, and if he should come this way, I can easily conceal myself."

A moment later, the doorkeeper returned and evidently reported the result of his mission. The stranger slipped a gratuity into his hand, crossed the street, and then walked slowly towards the Boulevard Haussmann, without pausing to look around or behind, as he would have done had he suspected that anyone meant to follow him. "My ruse has succeeded," muttered Puymirol, "and the rascal can't escape me now. I certainly mean to follow him, and when I have found out where he lives, all the rest will be plain sailing."

On reaching the end of the Rue du Helder, the man paused for an instant, and then turned down the Rue Taitbout. "Perhaps he isn't going straight home," thought Puymirol. "When he threw the pocket-book into the cab he was bound for the left bank of the river, so he must live in that direction. Perhaps he is now going to see the woman whose cause he has espoused. I must be careful."

Puymirol did not at first realize that to follow a man successfully the pursuer must remain some little distance behind. If he follows him too closely, he is almost sure to attract his attention, and this almost happened at the corner of the Rue de Provence, when the stranger was obliged to stop short to let a carriage pa.s.s. He went on his way almost immediately, but it was a lesson that Puymirol profited by. The stranger now went up the Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin, as far as the Place de la Trinite, where he again hesitated, and Puymirol had to hastily conceal himself behind a vehicle. However, the stranger finally decided to cross the square and went down the Rue de Londres, but on reaching the Place de l'Europe he stopped again. A train was pa.s.sing under the railway bridge, and he leant over the railing to watch it. One might have fancied that he had nothing better to do than to kill time by strolling about the streets. At last, however, he leisurely turned into the Rue de Madrid, and it suddenly occurred to Puymirol that this street crossed the Avenue de Messine, where Blanche p.o.r.nic resided. True, he had seen Blanche with an officer at the restaurant, but she might have finished her dinner and have returned home in a cab before now, so possibly this man, who had murdered Dargental, was her hireling. But on reaching the corner of the Avenue de Messine, the stranger, instead of entering that thoroughfare, walked on as far as the Rue de Vigny, a short street, at the end of which the Les...o...b..t mansion stands. The mystery was solved.

The stranger was certainly going to the countess's house. He was not in Blanche's employ but in hers. Puymirol forthwith returned to his first plan, which was to make a direct attack upon Madame de Les...o...b..t. He now held her secret, and she could not refuse him anything, for she was at his mercy. Still, it was necessary for him to make sure that the man entered her house, and for some minutes past the pursuit had been attended with much more difficulty. This part of Paris is but little frequented in the evening, and Puymirol and the man he was following were the only persons in the street, so that, if the stranger turned, he could hardly fail to notice his pursuer. However, the stranger did not turn. On the contrary, he walked on with his head bowed upon his breast, and a cigar in his mouth, apparently oblivious to everything transpiring around him. He was already pa.s.sing the high wall that inclosed the grounds of the Les...o...b..t mansion. There was here a small gate, but, instead of ringing at it, he pushed on towards the boulevard, where the main entrance was situated, and Puymirol finally saw him disappear round the corner. He followed on in hot haste. Two windows of Madame de Les...o...b..t's abode were lighted up--those of the boudoir where the countess usually sat--but the stranger was not in front of the gate.

Puymirol thought he must have already gone in, and he himself was about to ring, when he perceived the fellow standing in the middle of the thoroughfare, and gazing at a fountain. However, the light of an approaching omnibus was visible in the distance, and Puymirol thought that the stranger might be waiting for it. But he was again mistaken.

The omnibus pa.s.sed on; the man crossed the boulevard, and turning into the next street, walked off in an exactly opposite direction to that taken by the omnibus. "No matter," muttered Puymirol, "I will not lose sight of him until I see him enter a house. Even then, I must satisfy myself before I leave, that the house he enters is really the one he lives in. Baccarat has nearly ruined me, but I still have enough money about me to bribe a doorkeeper. At all events, I shall persevere until the end."

After going a short distance, the man turned suddenly to the right, into a street that Puymirol was not acquainted with, but which must lead back to the point they had left a few moments before. "Can he have noticed me, and is he trying to throw me off the scent?" Puymirol asked himself for the first time. "Or, has he allowed me to follow him, in order to draw me into some trap? It would not astonish me on the part of such a scoundrel as he is." Indeed, the fellow knew that the pocket-book was in Puymirol's possession, for he had seen it projecting from his coat at the restaurant, and he had every reason to suppose that the letters were still inside it. This reflection made Adhemar pause, but only for a moment. He had gone too far to retreat, so he hurried on again, soliloquising: "Fortunately, I left the letters with George. There are only some lottery tickets in the case, and, after all, I don't see why I should even leave them inside." And, thereupon, he opened the pocket-book, took out the tickets and slipped them into his waistcoat pocket, replacing the case in his coat.

The stranger was now some distance in advance, for the person walking along so rapidly about half-way up the street must certainly be he, and Puymirol, seeing him again turn to the right, hastened on regardless of the noise his boots made on the asphalt. But he had mistaken another pedestrian for the enemy he wished to overtake, for just as he was least expecting it, his foe, emerging from an alley in which he had concealed himself, sprung out upon him, and seized him by the throat. Puymirol was strong, but the attack was so sudden and so violent, that he had not time to defend himself. He felt a violent twist, and that was all. His breath failed him, his arms fluttered, and he lost his footing, falling, half-fainting, upon the pavement. He did not entirely lose consciousness, but his sensations were vague and confused. He fancied that there was a heavy weight upon his chest, that his coat was being unb.u.t.toned and his pockets searched, but all this was done so quickly that he was scarcely aware of it. How many minutes elapsed before he fully regained his senses, he never knew; but when he did recover them, he perceived that his a.s.sailant had disappeared. He rose with difficulty, and while satisfying himself that he had no bones broken, he likewise discovered that his pocket-book had disappeared. His watch, his money, and the lottery tickets were safe, however. His a.s.sailant had merely wanted to get the letters, and he was foiled in his attempt, for he had not found them.

Puymirol endeavoured to console himself with this reflection, but although he still possessed the letters he did not know what use to make of them. Nothing short of a miracle was now required to extricate him from his dilemma, but Puymirol was no believer in miracles.

III.

While Puymirol was engaged in these adventures, George Caumont was dreaming of his love. He had gone to the club after dinner in the hope of finding his friend, but failing in this, he had comforted himself with the thought that Puymirol would be sure to return home sooner or later, and accordingly he went back to the Rue de Medicis where they occupied separate suites of apartments in the same house. George fell asleep dreaming of Gabrielle Verdon; but as soon as he awoke in the morning, he repaired to his friend's rooms of which he had a key, just as Adhemar had a key to his, and on going in, he found the bed undisturbed. This discovery made him rather anxious, and after waiting in vain all the morning, George finally determined to go in search of Adhemar. He first repaired to the residence of the Countess de Les...o...b..t, knowing that Puymirol had gone there, but a fresh disappointment awaited him, for the countess was out, and the doorkeeper, whilst admitting that M. de Puymirol had called on the day before, added that he had only remained a short time. George thereupon left his card, with the announcement that he would call upon Madame de Les...o...b..t on the following afternoon, and re-entering his cab, was driven to the club. He learned that his friend had been fencing there on the day before, but that nothing had been seen of him since then; whereupon he made a tour of various gambling-houses, where Puymirol might have spent the night, but no one could give him any news.

Disheartened by this failure, George finally drove back to the Rue de Medicis with a vague hope of finding that Adhemar had returned. But in this expectation he was likewise disappointed, and after writing a few lines, in which he begged Puymirol to wait for him in case he came back before he did, he made a hasty toilet and repaired to the Luxembourg garden in search of Gabrielle and her mother. He soon found them seated alone near a clump of shrubbery, Madame Verdon reading a newspaper, whilst Gabrielle was busy with some crotchet work. M. Rochas was not with them, though there were three chairs. George realised that they were expecting him, and that Gabrielle had chosen this spot so that they might not be disturbed. She gave a cry of delight on perceiving him, and her mother greeted him with an encouraging smile.

"Your coming is most opportune, sir," she graciously remarked. "We were just speaking of you. Yes; I was just saying to Gabrielle that her brother is very unlike you. You are faithful to your friends, whereas that naughty boy ignores me entirely. Would you believe it, we have not seen him since the horse show, and he reached Paris only yesterday morning. He will make his appearance sooner or later, I suppose, and consider himself deeply aggrieved if we do not give him a cordial reception. But, let us say no more about that, but talk of something else. My daughter has told me everything."

George bowed, but remained silent.

"Come, don't be over modest," continued Madame Verdon. "You have known ever since yesterday that Gabrielle loves you, and that I approve of her choice. She has never concealed anything from me, and she has repeated to me every word that pa.s.sed between you. It is as well you should know that I have always told her: 'My dear girl, marry to suit yourself. I shall have nothing to do with the affair, excepting as regards giving my consent when you ask me for it. I think you incapable of loving a man unworthy of you. I shall, therefore, trust to your discernment, and take care not to thwart your inclinations.'"

This little speech rather surprised George, but he was obliged to admit that there was considerable good sense in the lady's theories, and he was really grateful to her for thus breaking the ice. Besides, he could not forget that Gabrielle's frankness, far from shocking, had delighted him, and he could not consistently blame the mother for acting in the same way.

Madame Verdon added some remarks as to George's father, his own position and prospects, and finally exclaimed: "I feel sure that you will make my daughter happy, and as it does not seem necessary to consult her--"

"Not at all necessary, mamma. I am already engaged," exclaimed Gabrielle, gaily.

"Then," resumed Madame Verdon, "I give my consent. And now, my dear son-in-law, you can confer with my notary whenever you please. He will explain my daughter's financial situation to you, and you can explain yours to him. Gabrielle's fortune is entirely at her own disposal. She has her share of her father's property, and I shall also give her a dowry of two hundred thousand francs. Your father will certainly do something on his side, so you will be able to begin housekeeping with at least thirty thousand francs a year."

"You are too generous," murmured George. "I wish mademoiselle were poor.

In that case, she could not doubt my disinterestedness."

"Do you think that I doubt it now?" asked Gabrielle, quickly.

"I am sure that I don't," chimed in Madame Verdon, "and as you love each other, that is enough. Everything else is of little moment, I have always been of that opinion, and when I was young nothing could have induced me to marry for money, nor could anything induce me to do such a thing even now." George p.r.i.c.ked up his ears. He realised that the lady's confession would not be much longer deferred. "The moment has come," she continued, "to inform you of a project, which my daughter has, perhaps, mentioned to you. I am about to marry again, and I am sure you will approve of my resolve, when you become better acquainted with my intended husband, whom I introduced to you yesterday at the Palais de l'Industrie. Monsieur Jacques Rochas is several years older than myself, but I should not care to marry a young man. He is a widower, but he has no children, and he is wealthy. His disposition and character suit me.

I am perfectly well aware that this is no reason why they should please every one, and I shall not insist upon my daughter and my son-in-law living with us. My plans for the future are made. Jacques and I intend to travel a good deal, and when we settle down, we shall purchase a chateau not far from Paris, where we can entertain our friends. You will always be very welcome there, you and Gabrielle, but as neither of you has much liking for a country life, you had better install yourselves comfortably inside Paris. Remember that I shall never cease to take an interest in my dear Gabrielle's welfare and in yours. I even hope to contribute to your happiness. I was anxious to tell you all this, for I did not wish you to engage yourself to my daughter without a full knowledge of all the circ.u.mstances. If this explicit statement of my intentions does not displease you, it will only remain for us to fix the wedding-day."

"The earlier the date, the better pleased I shall be," said George, with an ardent glance at Mademoiselle Verdon.