Bab Bab 25 · Chapter XXV

Whosoever needs a loan of money, or a complete suit of clothes in the

top of the fashion, a pair of ladies' boots, or an Indian cashmere; a

porcelain table service or a good picture; whosoever desires diamonds,

curtains, laces, a house in the country, or a provision of wood for

winter fires--may procure all these, and many other things besides, at

Mme. Charman's.

Mme. Charman lives at 136, Rue Notre Dame de Lorette, on the first story

above the ground-floor. Her customers must give madame some guarantee of

their credit; a woman, if she be young and pretty, may be accommodated

at madame's at the reasonable rate of two hundred per cent interest.

Madame has, at these rates, considerable custom, and yet has not made a

large fortune. She must necessarily risk a great deal, and bears heavy

losses as well as receives large profits. Then she is, as she is pleased

to say, too honest; and true enough, she is honest--she would rather

sell her dress off her back than let her signature go to protest.

Madame is a blonde, slight, gentle, and not wanting in a certain

distinction of manner; she invariably wears, whether it be summer or

winter, a black silk dress. They say she has a husband, but no one has

ever seen him, which does not prevent his reputation for good conduct

from being above suspicion. However, honorable as may be Mme. Charman's

profession, she has more than once had business with M. Lecoq; she has

need of him and fears him as she does fire. She, therefore, welcomed the

detective and his companion--whom she took for one of his

colleagues--somewhat as the supernumerary of a theatre would greet his

manager if the latter chanced to pay him a visit in his humble lodgings.

She was expecting them. When they rang, she advanced to meet them in the

ante-chamber, and greeted M. Lecoq graciously and smilingly. She

conducted them into her drawing-room, invited them to sit in her best

arm-chairs, and pressed some refreshments upon them.

"I see, dear Madame," began M. Lecoq, "that you have received my little

note."

"Yes, Monsieur Lecoq, early this morning; I was not up."

"Very good. And have you been so kind as to do the service I asked?"

"How can you ask me, when you know that I would go through the fire for

you? I set about it at once, getting up expressly for the purpose."

"Then you've got the address of Pelagie Taponnet, called Jenny?"

"Yes, I have," returned Mme. Charman, with an obsequious bow. "If I were

the kind of woman to magnify my services, I would tell you what trouble

it cost me to find this address, and how I ran all over Paris and spent

ten francs in cab hire."

"Well, let's come to the point."

"The truth is, I had the pleasure of seeing Miss Jenny day before

yesterday."

"You are joking!"

"Not the least in the world. And let me tell you that she is a very

courageous and honest girl."

"Really!"

"She is, indeed. Why, she has owed me four hundred and eighty francs for

two years. I hardly thought the debt worth much, as you may imagine. But

Jenny came to me day before yesterday all out of breath and told me that

she had inherited some money, and had brought me what she owed me. And

she was not joking, either; for her purse was full of bank notes, and

she paid me the whole of my bill. She's a good girl!" added Mme.

Charman, as if profoundly convinced of the truth of her encomium.

M. Lecoq exchanged a significant glance with the old justice; the same

idea struck them both at the same moment. These bank-notes could only be

the payment for some important service rendered by Jenny to Tremorel. M.

Lecoq, however, wished for more precise information.

"What was Jenny's condition before this windfall?" asked he.

"Ah, Monsieur Lecoq, she was in a dreadful condition. Since the count

deserted her she has been constantly falling lower and lower. She sold

all she had piece by piece. At last, she mixed with the worst kind of

people, drank absinthe, they say, and had nothing to put to her back.

When she got any money she spent it on a parcel of hussies instead of

buying clothes."

"And where is she living?"

"Right by, in a house in the Rue Vintimille."

"If that is so," replied M. Lecoq, severely, "I am astonished that she

is not here."

"It's not my fault, dear Monsieur Lecoq; I know where the nest is, but

not where the bird is. She was away this morning when I sent for her."

"The deuce! But then--it's very annoying; I must hunt her up at once."

"You needn't disturb yourself. Jenny ought to return before four

o'clock, and one of my girls is waiting for her with orders to bring her

here as soon as she comes in, without even letting her go up to her

room."

"We'll wait for her then."

M. Lecoq and his friend waited about a quarter of an hour, when Mme.

Charman suddenly got up.

"I hear my girl's step on the stairs," said she.

"Listen to me," answered M. Lecoq, "if it is she, manage to make Jenny

think that it was you who sent for her; we will seem to have come in by

the merest chance."

Mme. Charman responded by a gesture of assent. She was going towards the

door when the detective detained her by the arm.

"One word more. When you see me fairly engaged in conversation with her,

please be so good as to go and overlook your work-people in the shops.

What I have to say will not interest you in the least."

"I understand."

"But no trickery, you know. I know where the closet of your bedroom is,

well enough to be sure that everything that is said here may be

overheard in it."

Mme. Charman's emissary opened the door; there was a loud rustling of

silks along the corridor; and Jenny appeared in all her glory. She was

no longer the fresh and pretty minx whom Hector had known--the provoking

large-eyed Parisian demoiselle, with haughty head and petulant grace. A

single year had withered her, as a too hot summer does the roses, and

had destroyed her fragile beauty beyond recall. She was not twenty, and

still it was hard to discern that she had been charming, and was yet

young. For she had grown old like vice; her worn features and hollow

cheeks betrayed the dissipations of her life; her eyes had lost their

long, languishing lids; her mouth had a pitiful expression of

stupefaction; and absinthe had broken the clear tone of her voice. She

was richly dressed in a new robe, with a great deal of lace and a jaunty

hat; yet she had a wretched expression; she was all besmeared with rouge

and paint.

When she came in she seemed very angry.

"What an idea!" she cried, without taking the trouble to bow to anyone;

"what sense is there in sending for me to come here in this way, almost

by force, and by a very impudent young woman?"

Mme. Charman hastened to meet her old customer, embraced her in spite of

herself, and pressed her to her heart.

"Why, don't be so angry, dear--I thought you would be delighted and

overwhelm me with thanks."

"I? What for?"

"Because, my dear girl, I had a surprise in store for you. Ah, I'm not

ungrateful; you came here yesterday and settled your account with me,

and to-day I mean to reward you for it. Come, cheer up; you're going to

have a splendid chance, because just at this moment I happen to have a

piece of exquisite velvet--"

"A pretty thing to bring me here for!"

"All silk, my dear, at thirty francs the yard. Ha, 'tis wonderfully

cheap, the best--"

"Eh! What care I for your 'chance?' Velvet in July--are you making fun

of me?"

"Let me show it to you, now."

"Never! I am expected to dinner at Asnieres, and so--"

She was about to go away despite Mme. Charman's attempts to detain her,

when M. Lecoq thought it was time to interfere.

"Why, am I mistaken?" cried he, as if amazed; "is it really Miss Jenny

whom I have the honor of seeing?"

She scanned him with a half-angry, half-surprised air, and said:

"Yes, it is I; what of it?"

"What! Are you so forgetful? Don't you recognize me?"

"No, not at all."

"Yet I was one of your admirers once, my dear, and used to breakfast

with you when you lived near the Madeleine; in the count's time, you

know."

He took off his spectacles as if to wipe them, but really to launch a

furious look at Mme. Charman, who, not daring to resist, beat a hasty

retreat.

"I knew Tremorel well in other days," resumed the detective. "And--by

the bye, have you heard any news of him lately?"

"I saw him about a week ago."

"Stop, though--haven't you heard of that horrible affair?"

"No. What was it?"

"Really, now, haven't you heard? Don't you read the papers? It was a

dreadful thing, and has been the talk of all Paris for the past

forty-eight hours."

"Tell me about it, quick!"

"You know that he married the widow of one of his friends. He was

thought to be very happy at home; not at all; he has murdered his wife

with a knife."

Jenny grew pale under her paint.

"Is it possible?" stammered she. She seemed much affected, but not very

greatly surprised, which M. Lecoq did not fail to remark.

"It is so possible," he resumed, "that he is at this moment in prison,

will soon be tried, and without a doubt will be convicted."

M. Plantat narrowly observed Jenny; he looked for an explosion of

despair, screams, tears, at least a light nervous attack; he was

mistaken.

Jenny now detested Tremorel. Sometimes she felt the weight of her

degradation, and she accused Hector of her present ignominy. She

heartily hated him, though she smiled when she saw him, got as much

money out of him as she could, and cursed him behind his back. Instead

of bursting into tears, she therefore laughed aloud.

"Well done for Tremorel," said she. "Why did he leave me? Good for her

too."

"Why so?"

"What did she deceive her husband for? It was she who took Hector from

me--she, a rich, married woman! But I've always said Hector was a poor

wretch."

"Frankly, that's my notion too. When a man acts as Tremorel has toward

you, he's a villain."

"It's so, isn't it?"

"Parbleu! But I'm not surprised at his conduct. For his wife's murder is

the least of his crimes; why, he tried to put it off upon somebody

else!"

"That doesn't surprise me."

"He accused a poor devil as innocent as you or I, who might have been

condemned to death if he hadn't been able to tell where he was on

Wednesday night."

M. Lecoq said this lightly, with intended deliberation, so as to watch

the impression he produced on Jenny.

"Do you know who the man was?" asked she in a tremulous voice.

"The papers said it was a poor lad who was his gardener."

"A little man, wasn't he, thin, very dark, with black hair?"

"Just so."

"And whose name was--wait now--was--Guespin."

"Ah ha, you know him then?"

Jenny hesitated. She was trembling very much, and evidently regretted

that she had gone so far.

"Bah!" said she at last. "I don't see why I shouldn't tell what I know.

I'm an honest girl, if Tremorel is a rogue; and I don't want them to

condemn a poor wretch who is innocent."

"You know something about it, then?"

"Well, I know nearly all about it--that's honest, ain't it? About a week

ago Hector wrote to me to meet him at Melun; I went, found him, and we

breakfasted together. Then he told me that he was very much annoyed

about his cook's marriage; for one of his servants was deeply in love

with her, and might go and raise a rumpus at the wedding."

"Ah, he spoke to you about the wedding, then?"

"Wait a minute. Hector seemed very much embarrassed, not knowing how to

avoid the disturbance he feared. Then I advised him to send the servant

off out of the way on the wedding-day. He thought a moment, and said

that my advice was good. He added that he had found a means of doing

this; on the evening of the marriage he would send the man on an errand

for me, telling him that the affair was to be concealed from the

countess. I was to dress up--as a chambermaid, and wait for the man at

the cafe in the Place du Chatelet, between half-past nine and ten that

evening; I was to sit at the table nearest the entrance on the right,

with a bouquet in my hand, so that he should recognize me. He would come

in and give me a package; then I was to ask him to take something, and

so get him tipsy if possible, and then walk about Paris with him till

morning."

Jenny expressed herself with difficulty, hesitating, choosing her words,

and trying to remember exactly what Tremorel said.

"And you," interrupted M. Lecoq, "did you believe all this story about a

jealous servant?"

"Not quite; but I fancied that he had some intrigue on foot, and I

wasn't sorry to help him deceive a woman whom I detested, and who had

wronged me."

"So you did as he told you?"

"Exactly, from beginning to end; everything happened just as Hector had

foreseen. The man came along at just ten o'clock, took me for a maid,

and gave me the package. I naturally offered him a glass of beer; he

took it and proposed another, which I also accepted. He is a very nice

fellow, this gardener, and I passed a very pleasant evening with him. He

knew lots of queer things, and--"

"Never mind that. What did you do then?"

"After the beer we had some wine, then some beer again, then some punch,

then some more wine--the gardener had his pockets full of money. He was

very tipsy by eleven and invited me to go and have a dance with him at

the Batignolles. I refused, and asked him to escort me back to my

mistress at the upper end of the Champs Elysees. We went out of the cafe

and walked up the Rue de Rivoli, stopping every now and then for more

wine and beer. By two o'clock the fellow was so far gone that he fell

like a lump on a bench near the Arc de Triomphe, where he went to sleep;

and there I left him."

"Well, where did you go?"

"Home."

"What has become of the package?"

"Oh, I intended to throw it into the Seine, as Hector wished, but I

forgot it; you see, I had drunk almost as much as the gardener--so I

carried it back home with me, and it is in my room now."

"Have you opened it?"

"Well--what do you think?"

"What did it contain?"

"A hammer, two other tools and a large knife."

Guespin's innocence was now evident, and the detective's foresight was

realized.

"Guespin's all right," said M. Plantat. "But we must know--"

M. Lecoq interrupted him; he knew now all he wished. Jenny could tell

him nothing more, so he suddenly changed his tone from a wheedling one

to abrupt severity.

"My fine young woman," said he, "you have saved an innocent man, but you

must repeat what you have just said to the judge of instruction at

Corbeil. And as you might lose yourself on the way, I'll give you a

guide."

He went to the window and opened it; perceiving Goulard on the sidewalk,

he cried out to him:

"Goulard, come up here."

He turned to the astonished Jenny, who was so frightened that she dared

not either question him or get angry, and said:

"Tell me how much Tremorel paid you for the service you rendered him."

"Ten thousand francs; but it is my due, I swear to you; for he promised

it to me long ago, and owed it to me."

"Very good; it can't be taken away from you." He added, pointing out

Goulard who entered just then: "Go with this man to your room, take the

package which Guespin brought you, and set out at once for Corbeil.

Above all, no tricks, Miss--or beware of me!"

Mme. Charman came in just in time to see Jenny leave the room with

Goulard.

"Lord, what's the matter?" she asked M. Lecoq.

"Nothing, my dear Madame, nothing that concerns you in the least. And

so, thank you and good-evening; we are in a great hurry."