Monte-Cristo's Daughter Part 17

"I knew it; I knew you were expecting a lover and here he is promptly on time! Come now own up, my little Beurre-Sans-Sel, did you not put on all your pretty fixings for Mange?"

"For that ugly old gorilla!" exclaimed the girl, unceremoniously and disdainfully. "I can get better-looking lovers than either a monkey or a Swab, I'd have you to know, Monsieur Waldmann!"

There was a general laugh at this sally, and none laughed louder than Mange, who had a taste for coa.r.s.e jokes and sharp retorts.

"So!" said Waldmann, after the merriment had subsided. Then he perceived Mange's companion for the first time. He examined him closely and suspiciously. Albert did not shrink from his scrutiny, but the ex-detective deemed it prudent to set matters right at the start by a formal introduction of his employer; he, therefore, motioned to Albert to follow him and walked up to the German, offering him his hand, which the latter shook cordially.

The Captain now stood beside Waldmann in front of the counter and Mange presented him without delay.

"Monsieur Waldmann," said he, "permit me to make you acquainted with my friend Fouquier, from Dijon, a bon zigue."

"Monsieur Fouquier," said the German, taking Albert's outstretched hand, "I am glad to know you, especially as you come so well recommended."

Mange bowed in acknowledgment of this little tribute to himself.

Morcerf replied that the pleasure was mutual.

Waldmann's suspicions seemed to be allayed.

"Take something," he said. "Here, Siebecker and Bouche-de-Miel, join us in drinking the health of Monsieur Fouquier from Dijon!"

Albert was instantly on the alert and Mange watched him attentively as the two individuals named emerged from a corner of the room and lounged up to the counter. There was another presentation, a double one this time, Waldmann doing the honors. Mange required no introduction.

Everybody appeared to know him. Beurre-Sans-Sel put forth brandy and gla.s.ses, and the health of Monsieur Fouquier was drunk enthusiastically.

When this ceremony ended Morcerf called for cigarettes and distributed them among the coterie; then he had leisure to examine Bouche-de-Miel; the latter had turned his back to the counter and leaned his elbows upon it; in this position, with his cigarette between his teeth, he looked the perfect picture of vagabondish idleness. Mange was still watching Morcerf, but saw no sign that he had recognized in Bouche-de-Miel the man for whom he was seeking. This made him uneasy, for it was an indication that the reward his employer had promised him would not be earned.

Presently Waldmann and Siebecker were called to another part of the room. Bouche-de-Miel remained, continuing to smoke his cigarette, with his elbows on the counter where he had placed them after the health-drinking. The Captain's thoughts were of a conflicting nature.

Everything pointed to the fact that the man before him was his father-in-law, but, unlike Mlle. d' Armilly, he saw nothing in him suggestive of the Baron Danglars of other days. Could this vagabond, this wretch, be Danglars? If so, how was it to be proved to his satisfaction? How, above all, in this place, in this den of thieves and cutthroats? The man was certainly the party Eugenie had recognized on the night of the attempted burglary as her father, the party Monte-Cristo himself had so positively p.r.o.nounced to be the former banker. But was it not probable that his wife and the Count had been mistaken? Was it not probable that they had been deceived by some fancied resemblance when excitement had possessed them to such a degree that it had deprived them of the full use of their mental faculties? At any rate he had come to the caboulot to experiment with Bouche-de-Miel and he would not shrink from cautiously applying the test.

Their cigarettes were now consumed. Albert, in pursuance of his scheme, invited Bouche-de-Miel and Mange to take seats at a table and have some more brandy. They accepted the invitation with alacrity, and the three were soon drinking and chatting. Repeated potations finally opened Bouche-de-Miel's lips; he began to be confidential.

"You may not believe me, messieurs," said he, "but I was not always as you see me now!"

Mange winked triumphantly at his employer. Revelations which might be important were coming. Perhaps he would yet earn the promised reward.

Morcerf was listening attentively.

"No, sacre nom d' un chien, I was not always a zigue! Once I had immense wealth, I counted my money by millions! I had position, too, and I may say without egotism that I was honored by the best people of Paris!"

He paused and drained another gla.s.s of brandy.

"What were you?" asked Mange.

Albert waited breathlessly for the answer to this question.

"What was I?" repeated Bouche-de-Miel. "You may laugh, but I was a banker!"

Morcerf could not avoid giving a start. The vagabond, half-drunk as he was, noticed it and asked:

"What is the matter with you, Fouquier? Do you think the lie so tremendous that you can't keep still?"

The young man was glad to accept this interpretation of his behavior; he touched his gla.s.s to his lips and said, with a forced smile:

"Well, I do think you are going it rather strong!"

"Not half strong enough, mon Dieu!" cried Bouche-de-Miel, bringing his fist down on the table with such force that the gla.s.ses were nearly knocked off. "Not half strong enough, I tell you, messieurs, for I was a Baron as well as a banker!"

Albert groaned. Mange looked at him with sparkling eyes; he was now sure that the promised money was within his reach, that his clutch would soon close on it. His enforced sobriety since he had been in the Captain's employ made him anxious for a prolonged, reckless spree, frightfully anxious, and his guarded potations since he entered the caboulot had whetted his devouring appet.i.te for alcohol to such an extent that he could scarcely keep it in subjection with the plentiful supply of brandy on the table, almost at his very lips.

Bouche-de-Miel did not hear Morcerf's groan; his misty eyes were fixed upon s.p.a.ce, seemed to be peering into the depths and recesses of the distant past. The Captain judged that the time had come to draw the final, the crowning admission from his lips. He touched him lightly on the arm. The man turned and glanced at him inquiringly. Morcerf's heart beat wildly; it was with great difficulty that he kept his agitation under control. He hurriedly scanned the other occupants of the room--some were very drunk and stupid, others noisy and demonstrative, but all were too busy with their own concerns and pleasures to pay even the slightest attention to the little party at the table; Waldmann and Siebecker were asleep on opposite ends of a bench in a corner.

Bouche-de-Miel had meanwhile relapsed into his misty reverie. Albert touched his arm again.

"Don't bother me!" said the man, impatiently, without removing his eyes from s.p.a.ce. "Can't you let a fellow dream!"

"Baron Danglars!" whispered Morcerf in his ear.

"Eh? What?" cried Bouche-de-Miel, coming back to reality with a start, half-sobered by hearing this name.

"Baron Danglars," repeated the Captain, in a guarded undertone, "I know you!"

The man got upon his feet lumberingly and unsteadily; he clutched Albert's shoulder convulsively.

"You are an Agent de la Surete!" he hissed. "You have come here to arrest me!"

The attention of some of the less intoxicated ruffians was being excited by Bouche-de-Miel's behavior, but their ears had failed to seize his words amid the prevailing din. Mange, with his usual keenness and quickness, saw that something must instantly be done to quiet Albert's companion or all the miscreants who could stir would be aroused and come thronging about them to throttle the supposed Agent de la Surete. He, therefore, gave a loud laugh and said to Bouche-de-Miel:

"Don't be a fool, old man! Monsieur Fouquier belong to la rousse! That's a good joke! ha! ha! Why he is as much in danger of the violon as you are! ha! ha!"

He arose, still laughing, and, playfully taking Bouche-de-Miel by the collar, gently forced him back into his chair. As he did so, he glanced at Beurre-Sans-Sel. The slatternly young woman had her hand on the screw of the huge lamp suspended above the counter, by which alone the room was lighted, ready to turn it out and leave the whole place in darkness at the first alarm. She was evidently accustomed to police descents and knew how to act in such cases. Mange's words and merriment, however, rea.s.sured her and she withdrew her fingers from the screw.

But Bouche-de-Miel was not altogether satisfied. He sat uneasily in his chair, facing Morcerf and anxiously scanning his countenance.

"What did you mean by calling me Baron Danglars and saying that you knew me?" he asked, in a low, somewhat tremulous voice.

Instead of replying directly to this question, the young man said, slowly and in a half-whisper:

"I am Albert de Morcerf, the husband of your daughter Eugenie!"

"What!" exclaimed Bouche-de-Miel. "Eugenie married--and to you!"

"Yes," said the Captain, "Fate has again brought us together after a long and painful separation."

"I saw Eugenie in the house of the Count of Monte-Cristo, no matter how, no matter when. What was she doing there?"

"Monte-Cristo is married to my mother, Mercedes, and we are living with him."

"Living with him--Eugenie, my daughter, living beneath the roof of the man who ruined her father and made him what he is!"

Bouche-de-Miel grew absolutely livid with rage; he was entirely sobered now and all his evil instincts had full possession of him.