Detective and mystery stories; Paris (France) -- Fiction
“You are right,” cried he, “quite right.”
“When you have done this,” resumed Mascarin, “we shall not hesitate to
acquaint you with the secret of the lofty destiny that awaits you. Do
you understand me fully?”
Here the speaker was interrupted by the entrance of Beaumarchef, who had
signified his desire to come in by three distinct raps upon the door.
He was now gorgeous to look upon, for having taken advantage of a spare
half hour, he had donned his best clothes.
“What is it?” demanded Mascarin.
“Here are two letters, sir.”
“Thank you; hand them to me, and leave us.”
As soon as they were once more alone, Mascarin examined the letters.
“Ah,” cried he, “one from Van Klopen, and the other from the Hotel de
Mussidan. Let us first see what our friend the man-milliner has to say.
“DEAR SIR,--
“You may be at ease. Our mutual friend Verminet has executed your orders
most adroitly. At his instigation Gaston de Gandelu has forged the
banker Martin Rigal’s signature on five different bills. I hold them,
and awaiting your further orders regarding them, and also with respect
to Madame de Bois Arden,
“I remain your obedient servant,
“VAN KLOPEN.”
Tossing it on the table, Mascarin opened the other letter, which he also
read aloud.
“SIR,--
“I have to report to you the breaking off of the marriage between
Mademoiselle Sabine and M. de Breulh-Faverlay. Mademoiselle is very
ill, and I heard the medical man say that she might not survive the next
twenty-four hours.
“FLORESTAN.”
Mascarin was so filled with rage on learning this piece of news, which
seemed likely to interfere with his plans, that he struck his hand down
heavily on the table.
“Damnation!” cried he. “If this little fool should die now, all our work
will have to be recommenced.”
He thrust aside his chair, and paced hurriedly up and down the room.
“Florestan is right,” said he; “this illness of the girl comes on at the
date of the rupture of the engagement. There is some secret that we must
learn, for we dare not work in the dark.”
“Shall I go to the Hotel de Mussidan?” asked Hortebise.
“Not a bad idea. Your carriage is waiting, is it not? You can go in your
capacity as a medical man.”
The doctor was preparing to go, when Mascarin arrested his progress.
“No,” said he, “I have changed my mind. We must neither of us be seen
near the place. I expect that one of our mines has exploded; that the
Count and Countess have exchanged confidences, and that between the two
the daughter has been struck down.”
“How shall we find this out?”
“I will see Florestan and try and find out.”
In an instant he vanished into his inner room, and as he changed his
dress, continued to converse with the doctor.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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