The Red City Part 46

"I am in d.a.m.nable pain; I must be brief. I was waylaid near Bristol by Schmidt and De Courval, and when I would not stop, was shot by De Courval. They stole the despatch, and made me swear on threat of death that I had been attacked by men I did not know."

Fauchet was silent for a while, and then said: "That is a singular story--and that you kept the promise, still more singular."

"I did keep it. I had good reason to keep it." He realized, as he told the tale, how improbable it sounded, how entirely Fauchet disbelieved him. If he had not been dulled by opiates and racked past power of critical thought, he was far too able a man to have put forth so childish a tale. He knew at once that he was not believed.

"You do not believe me, Citizen."

"I do not. Why did you not tell me the truth at first?"

"It was not the threat to kill me which stopped me. I was of the tribunal at Avignon which condemned the _ci-devant_ vicomte, the young man's father. To have had it known here would have been a serious thing to our party and for me ruin. I was ill, feeble, in their hands, and I promised Schmidt that I would put it all on some unknown person."

Fauchet listened. He entirely distrusted him. "Is that all? Do you expect any reasonable man to believe such a story?"

"Yes, I do. If I had told you at the time, you would have used my statement at once and I should have suffered. Now that both these cursed villains are gone, I can speak."

"Indeed," said Fauchet, very desirous of a look at the face secure from observation within the curtained bed, "but why do you speak now! It is late. Why speak at all?"

"For revenge, Monsieur. I am in h.e.l.l."

Fauchet hesitated. "That is a good reason; but there is more in this matter than you are willing to tell."

"That is my business. I have told you enough to satisfy my purpose and yours."

"Rather late for mine. But let us understand each other. This man, then, this De Courval, had a double motive--to avenge his father's death and to serve his masters, the Federalists. That is your opinion?"

"Yes, his desire for revenge made him an easy tool. I cannot talk any more. What shall you do about it?"

"I must think. I do not know. You are either a great fool or a coward or both. I only half trust you."

"Ah, were I well, Monsieur, no man should talk to me as you are doing."

"Luckily for me you are not well; but will you swear to this, to a written statement?"

"I will." Whether it was to be a truthful statement or not concerned the minister but little if he could make use of it. Upon this, the consul-general and a secretary, Le Blanc, being called in, to their amazement Carteaux dictated a plain statement and signed it with his left hand, the two officials acting as witnesses.

The minister read it aloud:

OELLER'S HOTEL, July 4, 1795.

I, George Carteaux, being _in extremis_, declare that on the 29th of November, about 5 P.M., near Bristol, I was set upon and shot and a despatch taken from me by one Schmidt and a Frenchman by name De Courval. No valuables were taken. By whom they were set on or paid I do not know.

GEORGE CARTEAUX.

_Witnesses_:

LOUIS LE BLANC, JEAN DE LA FOReT.

The two members of the legation silently followed the minister out of the room.

"That is a belated story," said De la Foret. "Do you credit it?"

"It is not all, you may be sure; a rather lean tale," replied Le Blanc, whose career in the police of Paris had taught him to distrust men. "He lied both times, but this time it is a serviceable lie."

"A little late, as you say," remarked Fauchet. "Once it might have helped us."

"Ah, if," said the consul-general, "he could tell who has your despatch!"

"Not Mr. Randolph," said Le Blanc.

"No," returned Fauchet; "or if he has, it will never be seen by any one else."

"Why?" asked Le Blanc.

The minister, smiling, shook his head. "If ever it turns up in other hands, you will know why, and Mr. Randolph, too."

The minister later in the day a.s.sured Carteaux that he would make such use of the deposition as would force the administration to rid itself of a guilty clerk. He was in no haste to fulfil his pledge. Two or three months earlier, when the general opposition to the English treaty promised to delay or prevent it, this damaging paper would have had some value. Apart, however, from any small practical utility the confession might still possess, it promised Fauchet another form of satisfaction.

Being a man of great vanity, he felt injured and insulted by the coolness of his diplomatic reception and by the complete absence of pleasant social recognition in the homes of the great Federalist merchants. He would give Carteaux's statement to the Secretary of State and demand that De Courval be dismissed and punished. He felt that he could thus annoy and embarra.s.s the administration; but still, distrusting Carteaux, he waited. His delay was ended by the gossip which began to be rumored about in regard to the attack on Carteaux, and concerning the mysterious loss of Despatch No. 10.

Chovet had been abruptly dismissed, unpaid, and the German having gone away in some haste with no thought of his promise to pay, none knew when he would return. The little doctor was furious. His habit of imprudent gossip had been controlled by Schmidt's threats and still more surely by his pledge of payment. By and by, in his exasperation, he let drop hints, and soon the matter grew. He had been cheated by Carteaux, and if people only knew the truth of that story, and so on, while he won self-importance from holding what he half believed to be a state secret.

At last, increasingly uneasy about his fee, it occurred to him to ask Miss Wynne if it were certain that Schmidt would not return. If not--ah, there was the young man who must pay, or the whole story should be told.

That Miss Gainor kept him waiting for half an hour he felt as a slight and regarded it as an addition to the many wrongs he had suffered at the hands of a woman who had learned from time and experience no lessons in prudence.

Increasingly vexed at her delay, when she came in he was walking about with reckless disregard of the priceless china with which she delighted to crowd her drawing-room. As she entered he looked at his watch, but Mistress Gainor was to-day in high good humor, having won at piquet of Mrs. Bingham the night before enough to make her feel comfortably pleased with Gainor Wynne.

"Bonjour, Monsieur," she said in her fluent anglicized French. "I beg pardon for keeping you waiting; I was dressing." Chovet had rarely been able to sacrifice his liking to annoy to the practical interests of the moment, and now, disbelieving her, he said, "If you will speak English, I may be able to understand you." This was a little worse than usual.

"Sir," she said, with dignity, "your manners are bad. Never do I permit such things to be said to me. I might say something such as you have said to me in regard to your English and there would be an end of our conversation," upon which she laughed outright. "What makes you so cross, Doctor, and to what do I owe the honor of a visit?"

Then he broke out. "I have been cheated by Mr. Carteaux. He has not paid me a cent. He has got another doctor."

"Wise man, Mr. Carteaux; but what on earth have I to do with that Jacobin?"

In his anger the doctor had quite lost sight for the moment of the object of his visit, which was to know if Schmidt had gone never to return, as was freely reported. Now he remembered.

"I desire to know if Mr. Schmidt will come back. He promised to pay if Carteaux did not. Oh, it is a fine story--of him and De Courval. A despatch has been stolen--every one knows that. I am not to be trifled with, Madame. I can tell a nice tale."

"Can you, indeed? I advise you to be careful what you say. Mr. Schmidt will return and then you will get some unusual interest on your money.

Have you no sense of honor that you must talk as you have done?"

"I do never talk," he said, becoming uneasy.

Miss Gainor rose, having heard all she wished to hear. "Lord! man, talk!

You do nothing else. You have been chattering about this matter to Mrs.

Byrd. If I were you, I should be a bit afraid. How much money is owing you?"

"Three hundred dollars, and--I have lost patients, too. I have--"