Part 2

Piquet shook his head, doubtingly. 'He is a stubborn dog; you will find him the devil to confess, Monsieur Gorsay.'

The old man dismissed the gardener with an abrupt movement of the head, and walked slowly toward the house. He entered his apartment, and there waited with a strange feeling of impatience for the presumed perpetrator of the theft, who was not long in making his appearance at the room door, where he stopped, cap in hand, with an air of respect.

Bonnemain was a man of about forty years of age, of a strongly built frame, rather a mild countenance, and dressed with a sort of care and pretence which seemed foreign to his occupation.

'Shut the door and come this way,' said M. Gorsay to him; at the same time closing the window at which he was sitting.

After obeying him, the laborer remained standing upright and motionless; his whole appearance and demeanor calm and collected.

'Bonnemain, or rather Baptiste Leroux,' said the old man, regarding him with a fixed and piercing eye, 'a robbery has been committed in my house. Innocent or guilty, you have been suspected, for your previous course of life renders you liable to suspicion; beside, there are proofs in the present case, and an investigation will doubtless bring others to light. You have already suffered a severe punishment, and as an old offender you are doubtless well aware of the sentence that awaits you--the galleys for life.'

'My good Sir!' replied Bonnemain, with an air of astonishment which might have deceived even a practised judge, 'you fill me with amazement! I give you my word of honor, Monsieur Gorsay, that I am innocent. It is true I have been in trouble, and I cannot deny it; because when I came here to look for work, I had to show you my passport. But because one has been caught in a foolish scrape in his youth, that is no reason why he should be a rogue all his life. As sure as there is a God who hears us, I know nothing at all about this matter.'

'For what crime were you condemned the first time to the galleys?' demanded Monsieur Gorsay.

'For a little faux pas I had the misfortune to commit when I was in a mercantile house,' replied the freed convict, with an air of contrition.

'For an assassination,' replied the old man, lowering his voice, but with marked emphasis; 'for an assassination, committed upon the person of a tax-gatherer, from whom you expected to get what he had received, but which, happily for you, he chanced not to have about his person at the time. I say happily for you, for the robbery not having been committed, and the premeditation not proven before the jury, you were only sentenced to the galleys. At Toulon your good conduct gained you a commutation of punishment, and instead of finishing your days in confinement, you were set free at the end of ten years. You see I am well informed.'

'Ah! old fox!' thought Baptiste Leroux, alias Durand, alias Lejeune, alias Bonnemain, 'if you and I were alone in some dark wood, your business should soon be done for you, old fellow!'

Monsieur Gorsay seemed to divine the sanguinary thoughts of the man, for he cast his eyes with an uneasy look toward the window. He was reässured, however, by the presence of some men who were working in the garden at a short distance. In broad day, in his own house, and within reach of such assistance, he felt that he had nothing to fear from the fury with which the convict seemed filled, notwithstanding his efforts to conceal it. He therefore continued the conversation, but it was rather with the familiarity of a friendly counsellor, than the severity of a vindictive judge.

'Hitherto,' said he, 'you have experienced nothing but misfortune; you have passed ten years in the galleys for a murder by which you gained nothing; and here you are on the point of going back again for life, for stealing a paltry watch, worth perhaps twenty francs.'

'It was not worth ten!' answered Bonnemain, who instantly bit his lips till the blood sprang from them.

'Ten or twenty,' replied the old man, with an ironical smile, 'it matters little; the main point is, that the robbery can be proved. Indeed, it is so now, by your own confession. I shall be obliged to have you arrested.'

'You will then arrest an innocent man,' said the convict, losing in spite of himself somewhat of his assurance.

Monsieur Gorsay bent down his head, and remained for some time with downcast eyes; raising them at length, he fixed upon Bonnemain a look which seemed as if it would pierce the inmost recesses of a soul degraded by habitual vice. 'Suppose,' said he to him, 'that instead of giving you up to justice, I should furnish you with the means of repairing to Bordeaux, and from thence of embarking for a foreign port; St. Sebastian, or Bilboa, for instance; suppose farther, that not content with saving you, I should remit you a sum of money sufficient to set up an establishment somewhere out of France, which would place you beyond the reach of want; ten thousand francs, for instance. What would you think of such a proposal?'

All the emotion evinced by the galley-slave at this munificent and unlooked-for proposition, was an almost imperceptible movement of the lips. With the sagacity of that class of persons who gain their livelihood by a criminal and not always bloodless industry, he comprehended in an instant that a bargain and not a deed of benevolence was in the wind. This conviction at once restored all his wonted audacity; for to bargain with a superior is for the time to become his equal.

'What should I think, Monsieur Gorsay?' replied he, after seeming to reflect for a little while; 'by my faith! I should say, 'Bonnemain, it is not for your beautiful eyes that ten thousand francs are offered you. In truth, somebody has need of you for a job that is worth the money. Egad! a fine _pour boire_ is ten thousand francs!'

'And this job; will you undertake it?' demanded the old man, in a concentrated voice.

'That depends on circumstances,' said Bonnemain. 'I never turn my back upon work. It is only your lazy dogs who refuse to work. But still, one must know what the matter in hand is.'

'Suppose it is something of deep importance?'

'Something like the affair of the tax-gatherer, is it not?' demanded the convict, with a significant smile.

'It is,' replied M. Gorsay, in a deep tone.

'Only this time,' continued the convict, 'instead of having an eye upon the government money, the business in hand, perhaps, is to get rid of a tall young fellow who scales walls and climbs into windows as if he had been brought up to it?'

'You have seen him then?' exclaimed the old man, put off his guard by this unexpected revelation.

'Listen to me, Monsieur Gorsay,' said Bonnemain, coolly; 'we must be plain with each other in this matter. I will speak frankly, and tell you all I know. Beside, I am not now afraid of your denouncing me. That fool of a Piquet leaving his jacket, with his watch and money, in the little green-house, put some notions in this noddle of mine. And beside, I chanced just then to be a little cramped for the needful. And after all, the best of us are but human. See me then in the park, by the wall, behind the plane trees. On a sudden I hear a noise just above me. At first I thought it was a cat or a marmot; but no such thing; it is a man who lets himself down the wall, and then marches straight toward the house. 'Good!' thinks I to myself; 'here's a comrade who has perhaps got a better idea than mine, and may-be there will be shares for two.' It was near midnight, and as dark as an oven. All's one to me; so I slip off my shoes and follow. Behold him now just under your window. I lay me flat down on the turf, so that in turning he might not see me. What then do I see? A window opens above, something white appears, and up my gentleman climbs in a twinkling. 'Excuse me,' says I to myself; 'it seems my comrade has got a friend inside the house, and we are hunting for different game.' And so, seeing that the affair was not in my line, I set about my own little business.'

'Did you recognize this man?' demanded the old man, in a husky tone.

'I think,' replied the galley-slave with a grin, 'that you had better ask that question of Madame Gorsay, who saw him nearer than I did.'

'Did you recognize him?' repeated the husband of Lucia, in a tone of thunder.

'Yes,' said Bonnemain coolly, 'I did; it was your neighbor, Monsieur Arthur d'Aubian, who lives down by the river, about twenty minutes' walk from here.'

'Well, it is he that must be put to death!' said the old man, rising in a transport of fury.

'I do not say yes, I do not say no;' replied he of the galleys, with an air of nonchalance. 'I risk my ball at this game; if I lose, I know what I must expect; if I win----'

'You shall have ten thousand francs;' said M. Gorsay, interrupting him.

'That is more than my carcase is worth, there is no doubt about it; I do not find fault with the price. But the deed once done, who will assure me that I get my pay? You may guess I shall not have much time to wait; and, as they say, one does not find ten thousand francs on horseback; you have not perhaps a quarter of that sum in your house; for although one may be rich, yet that is no reason for keeping so much ready money about him.'

Instead of replying to this objection, the old man approached a secretary which stood near the chimney, opened it, displaced one of the drawers, and drew out from a secret cavity a wooden bowl, containing some twenty little rouleaus; he took three or four of these in succession, and tearing off their coverings, let fall on the writing-table a shower of gold. All the emotion evinced by the convict at this sight, was a sudden sparkle of the eye, and a gloating smile, which was instantly repressed by his thin and colorless lips.

'You see your money is ready for you,' said M. Gorsay. 'Is the bargain concluded?'

'When one does not pay in advance, it is the custom to give an earnest,' replied Bonnemain, twisting his hands behind his back, to resist the temptation.

'There then,' said the old man, giving him a dozen twenty-franc pieces; 'when the business is done, you shall have twenty times as much. You see it is gold; you will not have much trouble to carry it.'

'Gold is never heavy,' replied the galley-slave, in a sententious tone; and without farther discussion he thrust the earnest of his bargain into his pocket.

Thus far the compact between the old man and him of the galleys had been carried on without a difference. The two accomplices then began to discuss the means of accomplishing the deed of which Arthur d'Aubian was to be the victim. Listening only to the impatience of his hatred, the outraged husband was eager for a vengeance as prompt as terrible; to wait until evening seemed intolerable. The subordinate assassin, upon whom was to fall the danger and responsibility of the deed, soon convinced him that a murder in broad day-light was out of the question.

'As he is in the habit of taking walks at midnight,' said he, with the confidence of one who had maturely weighed the matter in hand, 'that must be the time for our purpose: between his house and yours there is a little by-path, exactly suited for the deed; one may lie hid behind the hedge. There is not a dwelling within half a mile, and the Garonne is hard by. The moon does not rise till two o'clock; and as my gentleman takes his stroll about midnight, we shall be able to do his business for him without risk. The time of the tax-gatherer's little affair, it was that cursed moon that caused me to be detected; and since then I have made a vow never to do work with that minx overhead. There is no way, see you, of putting her out.'

'First of all, however,' said M. Gorsay, 'you must restore to Piquet the watch and money you took from him. He has suspicions of you, and if he enters a complaint will have you arrested.'

'And that will spoil your business, eh, old gentleman?' familiarly interrupted the thief, about to become a murderer. 'I understand you; they will cage me, and in the mean time this fine fellow d'Aubian can climb over walls and scale balconies at his leisure. Here goes, then, for restitution; it shall be done forthwith, and Piquet shall see wonders. As for his cursed old warming-pan, I do not value it a sous; it is not worth the trouble I have taken for it.'

The plan being at length arranged, the two men parted. Before leaving the chamber, however, Bonnemain examined every corner with that close observation with which adepts in villany are usually endowed. He noticed the secret place where the old man replaced the bowl of gold, and the manner in which he fastened the secretary; he also carefully observed the structure of the window, and noted that there were no shutters on the inside. On the outside a simple Venetian blind protected it from forcible entrance, which the small elevation of the ground floor rendered easily practicable. Satisfied with his examination, the convict respectfully saluted the man to whom he had just sold himself, and then rejoined his companions in the garden, with his usual tranquil and composed air.

In the course of the morning, as Monsieur Gorsay was slowly pacing one of the alleys of the park, he was again accosted by his gardener.

'I am surely bewitched,' said master Piquet, whose sun-burnt face seemed expanded to double its usual size with joy and amazement. 'Only to think, Monsieur Gorsay, that my watch and money should get back into my pocket again, and I know nothing about it! If there were such things as sorcerers, the thing would be plain enough; but one does not believe in such nonsense now-a-days.'

'It is one of your comrades who has been amusing himself at your expense,' replied the old man, shrugging his shoulders and continuing his walk.

'It may be so,' thought Piquet, 'but they sha'n't drive it out of my head that Bonnemain is an ugly dog, and if I were Monsieur Gorsay, I should get rid of him in short order.'

About the middle of the following night a strange rencounter took place upon the coping of the wall which surrounded the park of M. Gorsay, on the side of the alley of plane trees. Two men who at the same moment were scaling this enclosure, the one from the outside and the other from within, suddenly found themselves face to face on reaching its summit. Mutually startled at so unexpected a meeting, both were on the point of letting go their hold. Instinctively, however, they preserved themselves from falling by clinging to the cope-stone of the wall, and bestriding it with a vigorous effort, found themselves seated on a more secure resting-place. For a few moments they remained motionless, face to face in this position, bestriding the wall, to which they clung tightly with their legs, so as to leave their hands at liberty for the contest which such a rencounter seemed to render probable. They were so close to each other that in spite of the darkness they could distinguish the persons, and in a short time recognized each other. Presently the one who came from without saw the arm of his adversary suddenly raised, and at the extremity of the outline which it for the instant formed with the dark back-ground of the heaven, he distinguished the blade of a knife or dagger. Retreat was out of the question, and the attack was a deadly one. Unarmed himself, he sprang upon his assailant, seized the extended arm with one hand, and with the other rudely grasped him by the throat.

'Bonnemain!' said he, in a low tone, 'throw down your knife, or I will pitch you from the wall!'

Compelled under fear of strangulation to obey this mandate, the convict dropped his weapon, which fell into the park.

'Monsieur d'Aubian,' said he, in a half-stifled voice, 'let me get down; I will not prevent your going in, do not hinder me from going out.'

'You have been committing a robbery,' said Arthur; 'people do not scale walls in this manner without some evil intent.'

'But you yourself are climbing them; does it follow that you are a robber?'

Rendered mute by this reply, the lover of Lucia reflected that even had a robbery been committed, it would be impossible for him to arrest the criminal without compromising the woman he loved.

'Best let him go,' thought he; 'it is doubtless his interest that I should be silent, and he for his own sake will hold his tongue.'

Freed from the double grasp which confined his arm and almost stopped his breathing, Bonnemain, without a word farther, stooped down and groped along the outside of the wall. He soon found the rope-ladder, of which Arthur had made use, and which a hook, thrown by a strong and practised hand, had fastened to the edge of the coping. The convict grasped it tightly, and swinging himself over, began to descend with the agility of a squirrel. When half way down he stopped short, and reäscended as quickly as he had gone down.

'Neither _seen_, nor _known_; you understand me!' said he, in a significant tone to the young man; 'or if you choose to turn informer, I shall have a story to tell, how a certain young man made his way into the chamber of Madame Gorsay the other night!'

Without waiting for reply, Bonnemain let himself slip to the ground, and fled across the fields, where, favored by the darkness of the night, he quickly disappeared.

Arthur, without moving, remained for some time in the position in which the convict had left him. The idea of the secret of his love being at the mercy of such a miscreant, filled him with a sensation of mingled chagrin and anger. He soon, however, tried to reässure himself with the thought that he ought not to dread any indiscretion on the part of one so much interested in keeping the secret. Still, in spite of all his efforts to drive from his mind the impression produced by this disagreeable incident, he felt a vague apprehension of impending evil, which in all his previous nocturnal rambles he had never experienced. Instead of descending rapidly into the park, as had been his former custom, he now hesitated, and was on the point of retreating; but the thought of Lucia awaiting his arrival, decided the point, and love triumphed over prudence. He drew the rope ladder to the inside of the wall, and then perceived that on this occasion its services would not be required; for Bonnemain, to facilitate his escape, had placed against the wall one of the large ladders used in the garden. D'Aubian soon reached the ground, and notwithstanding the darkness, bent his way through the trees, as one to whom the obscure labyrinth was familiar. As he approached the pavilion, his footsteps were arrested by an unwonted noise, which broke the silence, till then undisturbed, save by the monotonous sound of the rustling foliage. Hearing nothing farther, he pursued his way; but presently a more distinct sound, like the voice of a man calling to others, again caused him to stop. Many shouts in rapid succession from different quarters were now heard in reply. It was evident that the robbery which had been committed by Bonnemain had aroused the inmates of the house, and that they were now searching the park. With the fleetness of a deer when he first hears the baying of the hounds, Arthur directed his course toward the place at which he had entered. Just as he reached it, he saw, flitting before him in the coppice, a light resembling a will-o-the-wisp, and immediately afterward distinguished a man with a lantern running hastily up the straight alley which bordered the wall of the enclosure. On perceiving the ladder, the man suddenly stopped, like a hound when he scents a track, and began to utter shouts, which were answered by other voices at a distance. In a short time two more lights, similar to the first, made their appearance through the trees, and the lover of Lucia now saw that his retreat was completely cut off. For a moment he hesitated, and then decided that it was more prudent to confront the danger than attempt to fly without the chance of escaping. He advanced therefore toward the scouts, who were assembled at the foot of the ladder in animated discussion. At sight of the young man, who emerged briskly from the thicket, there was a general sensation. The more prudent remained quiet; the bolder threw themselves upon d'Aubian, whom they did not at the moment recognize.

'What's the matter, Piquet?' said Arthur, shaking off the leader of the nocturnal expedition, who had seized him by the collar.

'How! what! is it you, Monsieur Arthur?' said the gardener, astounded at this rencounter.

'What has happened? and what is the meaning of all this stir?' replied the young man.

'Oh, good heavens!' said Piquet, 'poor Monsieur Gorsay has just been assassinated!'

'Assassinated!' exclaimed d'Aubian, turning deadly pale.

'All bathed in blood! with a great gash in his side in which you may put your hand! It is all over with him, poor gentleman! We are now after the assassin, who you may see has got off at this place, for here is my ladder which the gallows-bird has used. But how comes it, Monsieur d'Aubian, that you are in the park at this time of night?' continued he, regarding the young man with a look of suspicion.

Arthur had had time to invent a story to account for his unexpected appearance on this occasion.

'From what you tell me,' said he, 'I am sure that I have seen the assassin.'

'Seen him! Who is he? Did you recognize him?' demanded all at once the three men, pressing round him.

'I was returning from Canderol,' said d'Aubian; 'on my way home I passed along the foot-path on the outside of the park. Suddenly I perceived a man letting himself slip down the wall. This excited my suspicions, and I advanced toward him, but at sight of me he instantly took to his heels, and disappeared in the fields. In his stead I only found a cord hooked to the wall. Fearing lest some mishap had befallen Monsieur Gorsay, I clambered over the wall by means of this cord, in order to reach the house more quickly and give the alarm; which I was about to do when I saw your lanterns.'

'And did you recognize him? this robber?' asked one of the domestics.

'No,' replied Arthur, calling to mind the threat of the convict.

'It could only have been Bonnemain who has done this deed,' said Piquet; 'I always mistrusted that sulky wretch.'

One of the men who had been ferretting along the wall, now suddenly raised himself. 'Here is a knife!' said he; 'and there is blood upon it!'

The instrument of murder passed from hand to hand. It was one of those poniards without a sheath, known as Catalonian knives, the blade of which on opening is fastened by a spring. The steel had been carefully wiped, but in the groove of the handle might be seen traces of blood which had not been completely effaced.

'He cannot be far off,' said the head gardener; 'we must track him like a villanous wolf as he is. Come on, boys! let us after him, all hands! But you, Monsieur d'Aubian, will not you come in and console poor Madame Gorsay a little? She is almost distracted. Think what a shock this is to the poor lady! They have sent for the doctor, the priest, and the king's attorney; all is in confusion; but I am sure she will be glad to see _you_, who are so good a friend of the family.'

Suspicious as all men are whose consciences are not free from reproach, Arthur thought he perceived in these words an ironical meaning, which was in reality very far from the simple mind of the honest gardener. He feared also lest a refusal to go might awaken suspicions; and beside, the calamity which had just befallen Lucia inspired him with a mournful desire to see and assure her of his eternal devotion; the only consolation he could offer at the moment of so terrible a catastrophe. He accordingly accompanied Piquet, who returned to the house, carrying with him as proofs the clasp-knife and rope-ladder.