The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Iv Part 55

"And the Schoolmaster,--that fellow who is so dangerous, so powerful, and so ferocious, and who was always with the Chouette,--one of the frequenters of the _tapis-franc_?"

"The Schoolmaster?" said Bras-Rouge, feigning astonishment.

"Yes, a convict escaped from the galleys at Rochefort, Anselm Duresnel by name, sentenced for life. We know now that he disfigured himself on purpose, that he might not be recognised. Have you no trace of him?"

"None," replied Bras-Rouge, boldly, for he had his reasons for the lie, the Schoolmaster being at this very moment shut up in one of the cellars of the cabaret.

"There is every reason to believe that the Schoolmaster is the author of fresh murders. He would be an important capture."

"No one knows what has become of him for the last six weeks."

"And that's the reason you are reproached with having lost all trace of him."

"Always reproaches, M. Narcisse, always!"

"Not for want of ample cause! And how goes on the smuggling?"

"Is it not necessary that I should know something of all kinds of persons--smugglers as well as others--in order to put you on the scent?

I disclosed to you that pipe to introduce liquids, established outside the Barriere du Trone, and coming into a house in the street."

"I know that," said Narcisse, interrupting Bras-Rouge; "but for one that you denounce, you allow ten to escape, and continue your traffic with impunity. I am sure you eat at two mangers, as the saying is."

"Oh, M. Narcisse, I am incapable of an appet.i.te so dishonest!"

"That is not all: in the Rue du Temple, No. 17, there lives a woman named Burette, who lends money on deposit, who, they say, is a private receiver of stolen goods on your account."

"What would you have me do, M. Narcisse? The world is so slanderous,--says so many wicked things! Once again, I say, it is necessary for me to mix with as many rogues as possible, that I even seem one of themselves--so much the worse for them--in order that they may not have any suspicions; but it cuts me to the heart to imitate them,--cuts me to the heart. I must, indeed, be devoted to the service, to give myself up to such a thing as that."

"Poor, dear man! I pity you with all my soul!"

"You are laughing at me, M. Narcisse; but, if that was believed, why has there not been a search made at Mother Burette's and in my house?"

"You know well enough,--that we might not alarm the ruffians, whom, for so long a time, you have promised to deliver into our hands."

"And I am now about to deliver them, M. Narcisse; before an hour you will have them all handcuffed, and that without much trouble, for there are three women. As to Barbillon and Nicholas Martial, they are as savage as tigers, but as cowardly as pullets."

"Tigers or pullets," said Narcisse, half opening his long frock coat, and showing the b.u.t.ts of two pistols in the pockets of his trousers, "I have wherewithal here for them."

"You will do well to have two of your men with you, M. Narcisse. When they see themselves caught, the most cowardly sometimes show fight."

"I shall station two of my men in the small parlour at the entrance, by the side of the room into which you are to introduce the jewel-matcher.

At the first cry, I shall appear at one door, and my two men at the other."

"You must be speedy, then, for I expect the gang here every moment, M.

Narcisse."

"Very well, I will go at once and place my men, provided that all this is not another humbug."

The conversation was cut short by the peculiar whistle intended as a signal. Bras-Rouge looked out of a window to see whom it was that Tortillard announced.

"Ah, ha! It is the Chouette already. Well, do you believe me now, M.

Narcisse?"

"Why, this looks something like; but it is not all. But we shall see.

And now to station my men."

And the agent of safety disappeared at a side door.

CHAPTER XX.

THE CHOUETTE.

The precipitation of the Chouette's step, the fierce throbbings of a fever of rapine and murder which still animated her, had suffused her hideous features with a deep purple, whilst her green eye sparkled with savage joy. Tortillard followed her, hopping and skipping. At the moment when she descended the last steps of the stairs, Bras-Rouge's son, from pure mischief, put his foot on the long and dragging skirts of the Chouette's gown. This sudden stoppage made the old woman stumble, and, unable to catch hold of the bal.u.s.ter, she fell on her knees, her two hands extended, and dropping her precious basket, whence escaped a gold bracelet set with emeralds and pearls. The Chouette having, in her fall, somewhat excoriated her fingers, picked up the bracelet, which had not escaped the keen sight of Tortillard, and, recovering her feet, turned furiously to the little cripple, who approached her with a hypocritical air, saying to her:

"Oh, dear me! Did your foot slip?"

Without making any reply, the Chouette seized Tortillard by the hair, and, stooping to a level with his cheek, she bit it with such fury that the blood spurted out beneath her teeth. Strange, however, Tortillard, in spite of his usual vindictiveness, in spite of feeling such intense pain, did not utter a murmur or a cry. He only wiped his bleeding cheek, and said, with a forced laugh:

"I hope next time you will not kiss me so hard,--eh, La Chouette?"

"Wicked little brat! Why did you tread on my gown on purpose to make me fall?"

"Me? Oh! How could you think so? I swear I didn't do it on purpose, my dear Chouette! Don't think your little Tortillard would do you any harm; he loves you too well for that. You should never beat him, or scold him, or bite him, for he is as fond of you as if he were a poor little dog, and you were his mistress!" said the boy, in a gentle and insinuating tone.

Deceived by Tortillard's hypocrisy, the Chouette believed him, and replied:

"Well, well, if I was wrong to bite you, why, let it go for all the other times you have deserved it, you little villain! But, _vive la joie_! To-day I bear no malice. Where is your old rogue of a father?"

"In the house. Shall I go and find him for you?"

"No; are the Martials here?"

"Not yet."

"Then I have time to go down and visit _fourline_. I want to speak to old No-Eyes."

"Will you go into the Schoolmaster's cellar?" inquired Tortillard, scarcely concealing his diabolical delight.

"What's that to you?"

"To me?"

"Yes, you ask me the question with such an odd air."

"Because I was thinking of something odd."