The Thin Red Line; and Blue Blood Part 63

Although she had shown a bold front, Mrs. Wilders, as we shall still call her, was greatly agitated by this stormy scene, and it was with a blanched cheek and faltering step that she sought her confederate in the next room.

Mr. Hobson was gone.

"Coward! he has easily taken alarm. To desert me at the moment that I most need advice and help!"

But she did her friend injustice, as a letter that came from him in the course of a few hours fully proved.

"I heard enough," wrote Mr. Hobson, "to satisfy me that the devil is unchained and means mischief. I never thought to see R. G. again. We must watch him now closely, and know all his movements. If he goes to Paris, as I heard him threaten, he will give himself into our hands. I shall follow, in spite of the risks I run. One word of warning to the Prefecture will put the police on his track. Arrest, removal to Mazas, Cayenne, or by the guillotine--what matter which?--will be his inevitable fate. The French law is implacable. His _dossier_ (criminal biography) is in the hands of the authorities, and will be easily produced. There must be numbers of people still living in Paris who could identify him at once, in spite of his beard and bronzed face. I can, if need be, although I would rather not make myself too prominent just now. Be tranquil; he will not be able to injure us. It is his own doom that he is preparing."

CHAPTER IX.

IN PARIS.

Years had pa.s.sed since Hyde--he was Rupert Gascoigne then--had last been in Paris. The memory of that last sojourn and the horrors of it still clung to him--his arrest, unjust trial, escape. His bold leap into the swift Seine, his rescue by a pa.s.sing river steamer, on which, thanks to a plausible tale, in which he explained away the slight flesh-wound he had received from the gendarme's pistol, he found employment as a stoker, and so got to Rouen, thence to Havre and the sea.

Willingly he would never have returned to the place where he had so nearly fallen a victim. But he was impelled by a stern sense of duty; he came now as an avenging spirit to unmask and punish those who had plotted against him and his friend--unscrupulous miscreants who were a curse to the world.

He took up his quarters in a large new hotel upon the Boulevards.

Paris had changed greatly in these years. The Second Empire, with its swarm of hastily-enriched adventurers, had already done much to beautify and improve the city. Life was more than ever gay in this the chief home of pleasure-seekers. Luxury of the showiest kind everywhere in the ascendant; smart equipages and gaily-dressed crowds, the shop-fronts glittering with artistic treasures, everyone outwardly happy, and leading a careless, joyous existence.

Englishmen, officers especially, were just now welcome guests in Paris. Mr. Hyde, of the Royal Picts, as he entered himself upon the hotel register, with his soldierly air, his Crimean beard, and his arm in a sling, attracted general attention. He was treated with extraordinary politeness everywhere by the most polite people in the world. When he asked a question a dozen answers were ready for him--a dozen officious friends were prepared to escort him anywhere.

But Rupert Hyde wanted no one to teach him his way about Paris. Within an hour of his arrival, after he had hastily changed the garments he had worn on the night journey, had sallied forth, and, entering the long Rue Lafayette, made straight to the headquarters of the 21st _arrondiss.e.m.e.nt_. Urgent business of a public nature had brought him to Paris, but this was a private matter which he desired to dispose of before he attended to anything else.

The place he sought was easily found. It was a plain gateway of yellowish-white stone, over which hung a brand-new tricolour from a flag-staff fixed at an angle, and on either side a striped sentry-box containing a _Garde de Paris_.

The gateway led into a courtyard, in which were half-a-dozen loungers, cl.u.s.tered chiefly around the entrance to a handsome flight of stone steps within the building.

Just within this second entrance was a functionary, half beadle, half hall-porter, wearing a low-crowned c.o.c.ked hat and a suit of bright blue cloth plentifully adorned with b.u.t.tons, to whom Hyde addressed himself.

"The office of M. the Mayor, if you please."

"Upstairs; take the first turn to the right, and then--"

"But surely I know that voice!" said some one behind Hyde, who had turned round quickly.

"What, you!" went on the speaker; "my excellent English comrade--here in Paris! Oh, joyful surprise!"

"Is it you? M. Anatole Belhomme, of the Voltigeurs? You have left the Crimea? Is Sebastopol taken? the Russians all ma.s.sacred, then?"

"It is I who was ma.s.sacred--almost. I received a ball, here in my leg, and was invalided last month. But you also have suffered, comrade." And Anatole pointed to Hyde's arm in a sling.

"Nothing much. Only the kick of a horse; it does not prevent me moving about, as you see."

"But what brings you to Paris, my good friend?"

"I am seeking some family doc.u.ments--to substantiate an inheritance.

They are here in the archives of the Mairie."

"How? You were seeking the office of M. the Mayor? You?" And M.

Anatole proceeded to scrutinise Hyde slowly and minutely from head to foot. "You, a veteran with your arm in a sling, and that brown beard--brown mixed with grey. It is strange--most strange."

"Well, comrade," replied Hyde, laughing a little uneasily, "you ought to know me again."

"Lose no time, friend, in getting what you want from the Mairie. Come: I will go with you. Come: you may be prevented if you delay."

These words aroused Hyde's suspicions. Had Cyprienne warned the French police to be on the look-out for him?

"But, Anatole, explain. Why do you lay such stress on this?" he asked.

"Do as I tell you--first, the papers. I will explain by-and-by."

There was no mistaking Anatole, and Hyde accordingly hastened upstairs. Anatole indicated the door of an antechamber, which Hyde entered alone. It was a large, bare room, with a long counter--inside were a couple of desks, and at them sat several clerks--small people wielding a very brief authority--who looked contemptuously at him over their ledgers, and allowed him to stand there waiting without the slightest acknowledgment of his existence for nearly a quarter of an hour.

"I have come for a certificated extract from the registers of a civil marriage contracted here on the 27th April, 184--" he said, at length, in a loud, indignant voice.

The inquiry had the effect of an electrical shock. Two clerks at once jumped from their stools; one went into an inner room, the other came to the counter where Hyde stood.

"Your name?" he asked, abruptly. "Your papers, domicile, place of birth, age. The names of the parties to the contract of marriage."

Hyde replied without hesitation, producing his pa.s.sport, a new one made out in the name of Hyde, describing his appearance, and setting forth his condition as an officer in Her Britannic Majesty's Regiment of Royal Picts.

While he was thus engaged, an elderly, portly personage, wearing a tricolour sash which was just visible under his waistcoat, came out from the inner room, and, taking up the pa.s.sport, looked at it, and then at Hyde.

"Is that your name? Yes? It is different," he went on, audibly, but to himself, "although the description tallies. You are an English officer, domiciled at the Hotel Imperial, Boulevard de la Madeleine. I do not quite understand."

"Surely it is only a simple matter!" pleaded Hyde. "Monsieur, I seek a marriage certificate."

"For what purpose?"

"As a claim for an inheritance."

"Nothing more, eh!" said the Mayor, suspiciously. "Have you any one, any friend, who will answer for you, here?"

"No one nearer than the British Emba.s.sy, except--to be sure--" he suddenly thought of Anatole, who still waited outside, and who came in at the summons of his friend.

"Oh, you are with Monsieur?" The official's face brightened the moment he saw Anatole. "It is all right, then. Give the gentleman the certificate. This friend"--he laid the slightest stress on the word--"will be answerable for him, of course."

"Now, Anatole, tell me what all this means," said Hyde, as he left the Mairie with the doc.u.ment he deemed of so much importance in his pocket.

"Not here," said the Frenchman, looking over his shoulder, nervously.

"Let us go somewhere out of sight."

"The nearest wine-shop--I have not breakfasted yet, have you? A bottle of red seal would suit you, I dare say," said Hyde, remembering Anatole's little weakness.