Chapter 44

In about 1821 Jacques Collin found la Rousse a husband in the person of the chief shopman under a rich wholesale tin merchant. This head-clerk, having purchased his master’s house of business, was now a prosperous man, the father of two children, and one of the district Maire’s deputies. La Rousse, now Madame Prelard, had never had the smallest ground for complaint, either of Jacques Collin or of his aunt; still, each time she was required to help them, Madame Prelard quaked in every limb. So, as she saw the terrible couple come into her shop, she turned as pale as death.

“We want to speak to you on business, madame,” said Jacques Collin.

“My husband is in there,” said she.

“Very well; we have no immediate need of you. I never put people out of their way for nothing.”

“Send for a hackney coach, my dear,” said Jacqueline Collin, “and tell my god-daughter to come down. I hope to place her as maid to a very great lady, and the steward of the house will take us there.”

A shop-boy fetched the coach, and a few minutes later Europe, or, to be rid of the name under which she had served Esther, Prudence Servien, Paccard, Jacques Collin, and his aunt, were, to la Rousse’s great joy, packed into a coach, ordered by _Trompe-la-Mort_ to drive to the Barriere d’Ivry.

Prudence and Paccard, quaking in presence of the boss, felt like guilty souls in the presence of God.

“Where are the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs?” asked the boss, looking at them with the clear, penetrating gaze which so effectually curdled the blood of these tools of his, these ames damnees, when they were caught tripping, that they felt as though their scalp were set with as many pins as hairs.

“The seven hundred and _thirty_ thousand francs,” said Jacqueline Collin to her nephew, “are quite safe; I gave them to la Romette this morning in a sealed packet.”

“If you had not handed them over to Jacqueline,” said _Trompe-la-Mort_, “you would have gone straight there,” and he pointed to the Place de Greve, which they were just passing.

Prudence Servien, in her country fashion, made the sign of the Cross, as if she had seen a thunderbolt fall.

“I forgive you,” said the boss, “on condition of your committing no more mistakes of this kind, and of your being henceforth to me what these two fingers are of my right hand,” and he pointed to the first and middle fingers, “for this good woman is the thumb,” and he slapped his aunt on the shoulder.

“Listen to me,” he went on. “You, Paccard, have nothing more to fear; you may follow your nose about Pantin (Paris) as you please. I give you leave to marry Prudence Servien.”

Paccard took Jacques Collin’s hand and kissed it respectfully.

“And what must I do?” said he.

“Nothing; and you will have dividends and women, to say nothing of your wife--for you have a touch of the Regency about you, old boy!--That comes of being such a fine man!”

Paccard colored under his sultan’s ironical praises.

“You, Prudence,” Jacques went on, “will want a career, a position, a future; you must remain in my service. Listen to me. There is a very good house in the Rue Sainte-Barbe belonging to that Madame de Saint-Esteve, whose name my aunt occasionally borrows. It is a very good business, with plenty of custom, bringing in fifteen to twenty thousand francs a year. Saint-Esteve puts a woman in to keep the shop----”

“La Gonore,” said Jacqueline.

“Poor la Pouraille’s moll,” said Paccard. “That is where I bolted to with Europe the day that poor Madame van Bogseck died, our mis’ess.”

“Who jabbers when I am speaking?” said Jacques Collin.

Perfect silence fell in the coach. Paccard and Prudence did not dare look at each other.

“The shop is kept by la Gonore,” Jacques Collin went on. “If that is where you went to hide with Prudence, I see, Paccard, that you have wit enough to dodge the reelers (mislead the police), but not enough to puzzle the old lady,” and he stroked his aunt’s chin. “Now I see how she managed to find you.--It all fits beautifully. You may go back to la Gonore.--To go on: Jacqueline will arrange with Madame Nourrisson to purchase her business in the Rue Sainte-Barbe; and if you manage well, child, you may make a fortune out of it,” he said to Prudence. “An Abbess at your age! It is worthy of a Daughter of France,” he added in a hard tone.

Prudence flung her arms round _Trompe-la-Mort’s_ neck and hugged him; but the boss flung her off with a sharp blow, showing his extraordinary strength, and but for Paccard, the girl’s head would have struck and broken the coach window.

“Paws off! I don’t like such ways,” said the boss stiffly. “It is disrespectful to me.”

“He is right, child,” said Paccard. “Why, you see, it is as though the boss had made you a present of a hundred thousand francs. The shop is worth that. It is on the Boulevard, opposite the Gymnase. The people come out of the theatre----”

“I will do more,” said _Trompe-la-Mort_; “I will buy the house.”

“And in six years we shall be millionaires,” cried Paccard.

Tired of being interrupted, _Trompe-la-Mort_ gave Paccard’s shin a kick hard enough to break it; but the man’s tendons were of india-rubber, and his bones of wrought iron.

“All right, boss, mum it is,” said he.

“Do you think I am cramming you with lies?” said Jacques Collin, perceiving that Paccard had had a few drops too much. “Well, listen. In the cellar of that house there are two hundred and fifty thousand francs in gold----”

Again silence reigned in the coach.

“The coin is in a very hard bed of masonry. It must be got out, and you have only three nights to do it in. Jacqueline will help you.--A hundred thousand francs will buy up the business, fifty thousand will pay for the house; leave the remainder.”

“Where?” said Paccard.

“In the cellar?” asked Prudence.

“Silence!” cried Jacqueline.

“Yes, but to get the business transferred, we must have the consent of the police authorities,” Paccard objected.

“We shall have it,” said _Trompe-la-Mort_. “Don’t meddle in what does not concern you.”

Jacqueline looked at her nephew, and was struck by the alteration in his face, visible through the stern mask under which the strong man generally hid his feelings.

“You, child,” said he to Prudence Servien, “will receive from my aunt the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs----”

“Seven hundred and thirty,” said Paccard.

“Very good, seven hundred and thirty then,” said Jacques Collin. “You must return this evening under some pretext to Madame Lucien’s house. Get out on the roof through the skylight; get down the chimney into your miss’ess’ room, and hide the packet she had made of the money in the mattress----”

“And why not by the door?” asked Prudence Servien.

“Idiot! there are seals on everything,” replied Jacques Collin. “In a few days the inventory will be taken, and you will be innocent of the theft.”

“Good for the boss!” cried Paccard. “That is really kind!”

“Stop, coachman!” cried Jacques Collin’s powerful voice.

The coach was close to the stand by the Jardin des Plantes.

“Be off, young ‘uns,” said Jacques Collin, “and do nothing silly! Be on the Pont des Arts this afternoon at five, and my aunt will let you know if there are any orders to the contrary.--We must be prepared for everything,” he whispered to his aunt. “To-morrow,” he went on, “Jacqueline will tell you how to dig up the gold without any risk. It is a ticklish job----”

Paccard and Prudence jumped out on to the King’s highway, as happy as reprieved thieves.

“What a good fellow the boss is!” said Paccard.

“He would be the king of men if he were not so rough on women.”

“Oh, yes! He is a sweet creature,” said Paccard. “Did you see how he kicked me? Well, we deserved to be sent to old Nick; for, after all, we got him into this scrape.”

“If only he does not drag us into some dirty job, and get us packed off to the hulks yet,” said the wily Prudence.

“Not he! If he had that in his head, he would tell us; you don’t know him.--He has provided handsomely for you. Here we are, citizens at large! Oh, when that man takes a fancy to you, he has not his match for good-nature.”

“Now, my jewel,” said Jacques Collin to his aunt, “you must take la Gonore in hand; she must be humbugged. Five days hence she will be taken into custody, and a hundred and fifty thousand francs will be found in her rooms, the remains of a share from the robbery and murder of the old Crottat couple, the notary’s father and mother.”

“She will get five years in the Madelonnettes,” said Jacqueline.

“That’s about it,” said the nephew. “This will be a reason for old Nourrisson to get rid of her house; she cannot manage it herself, and a manager to suit is not to be found every day. You can arrange all that. We shall have a sharp eye there.--But all these three things are secondary to the business I have undertaken with regard to our letters. So unrip your gown and give me the samples of the goods. Where are the three packets?”

“At la Rousse’s, of course.”

“Coachman,” cried Jacques Collin, “go back to the Palais de Justice, and look sharp----

“I promised to be quick, and I have been gone half an hour; that is too much.--Stay at la Rousse’s, and give the sealed parcels to the office clerk, who will come and ask for Madame _de_ Saint-Esteve; the _de_ will be the password. He will say to you, ‘Madame, I have come from the public prosecutor for the things you know of.’ Stand waiting outside the door, staring about at what is going on in the Flower-Market, so as not to arouse Prelard’s suspicions. As soon as you have given up the letters, you can start Paccard and Prudence.”

“I see what you are at,” said Jacqueline; “you mean to step into Bibi-Lupin’s shoes. That boy’s death has turned your brain.”

“And there is Theodore, who was just going to have his hair cropped to be scragged at four this afternoon!” cried Jacques Collin.

“Well, it is a notion! We shall end our days as honest folks in a fine property and a delightful climate--in Touraine.”

“What was to become of me? Lucien has taken my soul with him, and all my joy in life. I have thirty years before me to be sick of life in, and I have no heart left. Instead of being the boss of the hulks, I shall be a Figaro of the law, and avenge Lucien. I can never be sure of demolishing Corentin excepting in the skin of a police agent. And so long as I have a man to devour, I shall still feel alive.--The profession a man follows in the eyes of the world is a mere sham; the reality is in the idea!” he added, striking his forehead.--“How much have we left in the cash-box?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said his aunt, dismayed by the man’s tone and manner. “I gave you all I had for the boy. La Romette has not more than twenty thousand francs left in the business. I took everything from Madame Nourrisson; she had about sixty thousand francs of her own. Oh! we are lying in sheets that have been washed this twelve months past. That boy had all the pals’ blunt, our savings, and all old Nourrisson’s.”

“Making----?”

“Five hundred and sixty thousand.”

“We have a hundred and fifty thousand which Paccard and Prudence will pay us. I will tell you where to find two hundred thousand more. The remainder will come to me out of Esther’s money. We must repay old Nourrisson. With Theodore, Paccard, Prudence, Nourrisson, and you, I shall soon have the holy alliance I require.--Listen, now we are nearly there----”

“Here are the three letters,” said Jacqueline, who had finished unsewing the lining of her gown.

“Quite right,” said Jacques Collin, taking the three precious documents--autograph letters on vellum paper, and still strongly scented. “Theodore did the Nanterre job.”

“Oh! it was he.”

“Don’t talk. Time is precious. He wanted to give the proceeds to a little Corsican sparrow named Ginetta. You must set old Nourrisson to find her; I will give you the necessary information in a letter which Gault will give you. Come for it to the gate of the Conciergerie in two hours’ time. You must place the girl with a washerwoman, Godet’s sister; she must seem at home there. Godet and Ruffard were concerned with la Pouraille in robbing and murdering the Crottats.

“The four hundred and fifty thousand francs are all safe, one-third in la Gonore’s cellar--la Pouraille’s share; the second third in la Gonore’s bedroom, which is Ruffard’s; and the rest is hidden in Godet’s sister’s house. We will begin by taking a hundred and fifty thousand francs out of la Pouraille’s whack, a hundred thousand of Godet’s, and a hundred thousand of Ruffard’s. As soon as Godet and Ruffard are nabbed, they will be supposed to have got rid of what is missing from their shares. And I will make Godet believe that I have saved a hundred thousand francs for him, and that la Gonore has done the same for la Pouraille and Ruffard.

“Prudence and Paccard will do the job at la Gonore’s; you and Ginetta--who seems to be a smart hussy--must manage the job at Godet’s sister’s place.

“And so, as the first act in the farce, I can enable the public prosecutor to lay his hands on four hundred thousand francs stolen from the Crottats, and on the guilty parties. Then I shall seem to have shown up the Nanterre murderer. We shall get back our shiners, and are behind the scenes with the police. We were the game, now we are the hunters--that is all.

“Give the driver three francs.”

The coach was at the Palais. Jacqueline, speechless with astonishment, paid. _Trompe-la-Mort_ went up the steps to the public prosecutor’s room.

A complete change of life is so violent a crisis, that Jacques Collin, in spite of his resolution, mounted the steps but slowly, going up from the Rue de la Barillerie to the Galerie Marchande, where, under the gloomy peristyle of the courthouse, is the entrance to the Court itself.

Some civil case was going on which had brought a little crowd together at the foot of the double stairs leading to the Assize Court, so that the convict, lost in thought, stood for some minutes, checked by the throng.

To the left of this double flight is one of the mainstays of the building, like an enormous pillar, and in this tower is a little door. This door opens on a spiral staircase down to the Conciergerie, to which the public prosecutor, the governor of the prison, the presiding judges, King’s council, and the chief of the Safety department have access by this back way.

It was up a side staircase from this, now walled up, that Marie Antoinette, the Queen of France, was led before the Revolutionary tribunal which sat, as we all know, in the great hall where appeals are now heard before the Supreme Court. The heart sinks within us at the sight of these dreadful steps, when we think that Marie Therese’s daughter, whose suite, and head-dress, and hoops filled the great staircase at Versailles, once passed that way! Perhaps it was in expiation of her mother’s crime--the atrocious division of Poland. The sovereigns who commit such crimes evidently never think of the retribution to be exacted by Providence.

When Jacques Collin went up the vaulted stairs to the public prosecutor’s room, Bibi-Lupin was just coming out of the little door in the wall.

The chief of the “Safety” had come from the Conciergerie, and was also going up to Monsieur de Granville. It was easy to imagine Bibi-Lupin’s surprise when he recognized, in front of him, the gown of Carlos Herrera, which he had so thoroughly studied that morning; he ran on to pass him. Jacques Collin turned round, and the enemies were face to face. Each stood still, and the self-same look flashed in both pairs of eyes, so different in themselves, as in a duel two pistols go off at the same instant.

“This time I have got you, rascal!” said the chief of the Safety Department.

“Ah, ha!” replied Jacques Collin ironically.

It flashed through his mind that Monsieur de Granville had sent some one to watch him, and, strange to say, it pained him to think the magistrate less magnanimous than he had supposed.

Bibi-Lupin bravely flew at Jacques Collin’s throat; but he, keeping his eye on the foe, gave him a straight blow, and sent him sprawling on his back three yards off; then _Trompe-la-Mort_ went calmly up to Bibi-Lupin, and held out a hand to help him rise, exactly like an English boxer who, sure of his superiority, is ready for more. Bibi-Lupin knew better than to call out; but he sprang to his feet, ran to the entrance to the passage, and signed to a gendarme to stand on guard. Then, swift as lightning, he came back to the foe, who quietly looked on. Jacques Collin had decided what to do.

“Either the public prosecutor has broken his word, or he had not taken Bibi-Lupin into his confidence, and in that case I must get the matter explained,” thought he.--“Do you mean to arrest me?” he asked his enemy. “Say so without more ado. Don’t I know that in the heart of this place you are stronger than I am? I could kill you with a well-placed kick, but I could not tackle the gendarmes and the soldiers. Now, make no noise. Where to you want to take me?”

“To Monsieur Camusot.”

“Come along to Monsieur Camusot,” replied Jacques Collin. “Why should we not go to the public prosecutor’s court? It is nearer,” he added.

Bibi-Lupin, who knew that he was out of favor with the upper ranks of judicial authorities, and suspected of having made a fortune at the expense of criminals and their victims, was not unwilling to show himself in Court with so notable a capture.

“All right, we will go there,” said he. “But as you surrender, allow me to fit you with bracelets. I am afraid of your claws.”

And he took the handcuffs out of his pocket.

Jacques Collin held out his hands, and Bibi-Lupin snapped on the manacles.

“Well, now, since you are feeling so good,” said he, “tell me how you got out of the Conciergerie?”

“By the way you came; down the turret stairs.”

“Then have you taught the gendarmes some new trick?”

“No, Monsieur de Granville let me out on parole.”

“You are gammoning me?”

“You will see. Perhaps it will be your turn to wear the bracelets.”

Just then Corentin was saying to Monsieur de Granville:

“Well, monsieur, it is just an hour since our man set out; are you not afraid that he may have fooled you? He is on the road to Spain perhaps by this time, and we shall not find him there, for Spain is a whimsical kind of country.”

“Either I know nothing of men, or he will come back; he is bound by every interest; he has more to look for at my hands than he has to give.”

Bibi-Lupin walked in.

“Monsieur le Comte,” said he, “I have good news for you. Jacques Collin, who had escaped, has been recaptured.”

“And this,” said Jacques Collin, addressing Monsieur de Granville, “is the way you keep your word!--Ask your double-faced agent where he took me.”

“Where?” said the public prosecutor.

“Close to the Court, in the vaulted passage,” said Bibi-Lupin.

“Take your irons off the man,” said Monsieur de Granville sternly. “And remember that you are to leave him free till further orders.--Go!--You have a way of moving and acting as if you alone were law and police in one.”

The public prosecutor turned his back on Bibi-Lupin, who became deadly pale, especially at a look from Jacques Collin, in which he read disaster.

“I have not been out of this room. I expected you back, and you cannot doubt that I have kept my word, as you kept yours,” said Monsieur de Granville to the convict.

“For a moment I did doubt you, sir, and in my place perhaps you would have thought as I did, but on reflection I saw that I was unjust. I bring you more than you can give me; you had no interest in betraying me.”

The magistrate flashed a look at Corentin. This glance, which could not escape _Trompe-la-Mort_, who was watching Monsieur de Granville, directed his attention to the strange little old man sitting in an armchair in a corner. Warned at once by the swift and anxious instinct that scents the presence of an enemy, Collin examined this figure; he saw at a glance that the eyes were not so old as the costume would suggest, and he detected a disguise. In one second Jacques Collin was revenged on Corentin for the rapid insight with which Corentin had unmasked him at Peyrade’s.

“We are not alone!” said Jacques Collin to Monsieur de Granville.

“No,” said the magistrate drily.

“And this gentleman is one of my oldest acquaintances, I believe,” replied the convict.

He went forward, recognizing Corentin, the real and confessed originator of Lucien’s overthrow.

Jacques Collin, whose face was of a brick-red hue, for a scarcely perceptible moment turned white, almost ashy; all his blood rushed to his heart, so furious and maddening was his longing to spring on this dangerous reptile and crush it; but he controlled the brutal impulse, suppressing it with the force that made him so formidable. He put on a polite manner and the tone of obsequious civility which he had practised since assuming the garb of a priest of a superior Order, and he bowed to the little old man.

“Monsieur Corentin,” said he, “do I owe the pleasure of this meeting to chance, or am I so happy as to be the cause of your visit here?”

Monsieur de Granville’s astonishment was at its height, and he could not help staring at the two men who had thus come face to face. Jacques Collin’s behavior and the tone in which he spoke denoted a crisis, and he was curious to know the meaning of it. On being thus suddenly and miraculously recognized, Corentin drew himself up like a snake when you tread on its tail.

“Yes, it is I, my dear Abbe Carlos Herrera.”

“And are you here,” said _Trompe-la-Mort_, “to interfere between monsieur the public prosecutor and me? Am I so happy as to be the object of one of those negotiations in which your talents shine so brightly?--Here, Monsieur le Comte,” the convict went on, “not to waste time so precious as yours is, read these--they are samples of my wares.”

And he held out to Monsieur de Granville three letters, which he took out of his breast-pocket.

“And while you are studying them, I will, with your permission, have a little talk with this gentleman.”

“You do me great honor,” said Corentin, who could not help giving a little shiver.

“You achieved a perfect success in our business,” said Jacques Collin. “I was beaten,” he added lightly, in the tone of a gambler who has lost his money, “but you left some men on the field--your victory cost you dear.”

“Yes,” said Corentin, taking up the jest, “you lost your queen, and I lost my two castles.”

“Oh! Contenson was a mere pawn,” said Jacques Collin scornfully; “you may easily replace him. You really are--allow me to praise you to your face--you are, on my word of honor, a magnificent man.”

“No, no, I bow to your superiority,” replied Corentin, assuming the air of a professional joker, as if he said, “If you mean humbug, by all means humbug! I have everything at my command, while you are single-handed, so to speak.”

“Oh! Oh!” said Jacques Collin.

“And you were very near winning the day!” said Corentin, noticing the exclamation. “You are quite the most extraordinary man I ever met in my life, and I have seen many very extraordinary men, for those I have to work with me are all remarkable for daring and bold scheming.

“I was, for my sins, very intimate with the late Duc d’Otranto; I have worked for Louis XVIII. when he was on the throne; and, when he was exiled, for the Emperor and for the Directory. You have the tenacity of Louvel, the best political instrument I ever met with; but you are as supple as the prince of diplomates. And what auxiliaries you have! I would give many a head to the guillotine if I could have in my service the cook who lived with poor little Esther.--And where do you find such beautiful creatures as the woman who took the Jewess’ place for Monsieur de Nucingen? I don’t know where to get them when I want them.”

“Monsieur, monsieur, you overpower me,” said Jacques Collin. “Such praise from you will turn my head----”