CHAPTER VII
I AM FORTUNATE IN FINDING A NEW FRIEND
I sat looking at him without answering, dismayed somewhat at the gravity of his face. Yet there were still the kindly eyes and mouth—surely I need fear no injustice from this man!
“I will tell you the story, M. le Comte,” I said, after a moment’s thought. “You shall judge for yourself in how far I am guilty.” And I gave him a detailed account of everything that had happened from the moment I had encountered Mlle. Ribaut in the Rue de l’Evêque until the moment of my arrest. D’Argenson did not once interrupt me, but glanced at me keenly from time to time, and remained for a moment silent after I had finished.
“M. le Moyne,” he said at last, “I need not tell you that you have been setting the law at defiance in all this, and that however I may respect you as a man of honor, as lieutenant of police there is only one course open to me, and that is to punish you. A father or legal guardian has an absolute and unquestioned right to dispose of a girl’s hand in marriage. There are only two conditions under which this right can be called into question. One is when there is some legal impediment which would prevent the marriage and which is being concealed. The other is when the proposed marriage is in the nature of a conspiracy, for the purpose of defrauding the girl in some way, or of doing her some other wrong.”
“Ah, Monsieur,” I cried, “if you could but see this creature, this Briquet! He is hideous, horrible! It seems to me that it is wrong enough that any girl should be compelled to marry him and live with such a monster.”
D’Argenson laughed bitterly.
“I have seen him, M. le Moyne,” he said. “It was he who came here to make complaint against you on behalf of M. Ribaut. I confess he is not lovely, but you could scarce expect me to take action on that ground, else I should be pronouncing a decree against my own countenance.”
“But there is a difference, M. le Comte!” I cried, and I wondered that I had ever thought him repulsive. “Mere irregularity of features, or even disfigurement, does not constitute ugliness. No countenance is offensive, Monsieur, which is lighted by kindly eyes and a smiling mouth. It is not so with Briquet. One shrinks from him instinctively as from a snake.”
D’Argenson did not answer, but sat musing deeply.
At last he raised his head.
“M. le Moyne,” he said, his eyes full on mine, “tell me truly why you came to Paris. It was not merely to seek your fortune?”
His eyes seemed to be reading my very heart. I had no thought of telling aught but the truth. So the truth I told, just as I had told Nanette, only more briefly—the attack on my sister and my killing of the libertine who had ordered it. Neither this time did M. le Comte interrupt me, but sat listening quietly, only looking at me with those eyes there was no denying. He was smiling when I ended, and I took courage.
“You have strong hearts, you le Moynes, men and women,” he said. “Some rumor of this affair hath reached Paris, only in another guise. It was that M. Philippe de Nizan and two attendants had been set upon by a gang of outlaws, and de Nizan and one of his men killed. The other, who escaped, told a pretty story of the fight, doubtless to save his own reputation. But I knew he was lying, for private advices from Marsan tell me that not a jewel nor pistole had been stolen. Only one of the horses was missing.”
“I rode it away, as I told you, M. le Comte,” I protested earnestly. “It has been sent back from Tours and should be at Marsan by this time awaiting its owner. That will prove the truth of my story, Monsieur.”
But D’Argenson silenced me with a gesture of his hand.
“I need no proof, M. le Moyne,” he said kindly. “I believe it already. I can detect truth from falsehood—that is why I am head of the police. You did well to trust me.”
I turned red with pleasure and tried to stammer my thanks, but he silenced me again.
“If the varlet sticks to his lie, you, of course, will not be troubled,” he added. “Should he tell the truth, the whole truth, there could be no charge against you. Should he tell a half-truth, implicating you, I will take a hand in the affair. I can protect you there, because you had the law on your side, but about this other I am not so certain. You have struck at one of the props of our society, and there is no crime more serious. If a parent or guardian may not dispose of his child in marriage, we will have simply chaos.”
I did not know what to answer. I had no wish to bring about a revolution, yet I knew quite well that I should never permit Nanette to be returned to her infamous uncle—but I could not say that to M. le Comte. He sat for some moments deep in thought, while I tried vainly to discover a way out of the coil.
“Well, M. le Moyne,” he said at last, “it is evident that the most important thing now is to find the girl, since she is no longer with you. Until that is done and her testimony can be secured, I will see that the charge against you is not pressed.”
“And in the mean time,” I questioned breathlessly, “I trust you will not think it necessary to send me to prison, M. le Comte?”
“And why not?” he asked smiling.
“Because in prison, Monsieur, I could do nothing towards assisting your agents to recover Mlle. Ribaut.”
“I had thought of that,” said d’Argenson. “Well, Monsieur, I will give you your freedom on two conditions.”
“And what are they?” I asked.
“One is that you report here to me at eight o’clock every morning so that I can detain you if there is need.”
“I agree!” I cried.
“The other is that if you succeed in finding Mlle. Ribaut, you will bring her here to me at once and surrender her into my hands without question.”
I hesitated for a moment, but a glance at d’Argenson’s face convinced me that he would use me fairly.
“Very well, Monsieur,” I said, “I agree to your second condition. But in return I would ask of you one thing.”
“And what is that?”
“It is, M. le Comte, that you make a little inquiry into the affairs of Ribaut and Briquet. I am certain that a conspiracy of some kind does exist,” and I told him of Ribaut’s terror, when, for want of something better to say, I had threatened him with a police investigation.
“It may be as you say,” assented d’Argenson thoughtfully. “At any rate, I will gladly do as you suggest, for I do not conceal from you, M. le Moyne, that my heart is with you in this matter. I can appreciate a gentleman, Monsieur, wherever I find him,” and he arose and gave me his hand. “If I can aid you in any way, I will do so—I can promise you that much. Adieu, Monsieur, and do not forget to report to-morrow morning. I may have some news for you.”
I pressed his hand warmly, thanked him, and took my leave. Evening was already at hand as I reached the street, and my stomach reminded me that I had eaten nothing since morning. I sought out the café in the Rue de Beauvais where we had breakfasted, and as I ate my solitary meal, I saw again before me the laughing, piquant face of Nanette Ribaut. I lingered at the table, revelling in the companionship which my thoughts created for me, and nine o’clock was striking from the Louvre as I once more reached the street. I reflected that I could do nothing better than return to my room and get a good night’s rest, for I was accustomed to a softer bed than I had had the night before, and felt greatly fatigued. Besides, it was just possible that the old concierge might return, and nothing would please me so much as to turn her over to d’Argenson, that she might be put to the question.
I was soon at the house, but saw in a moment that the lodge of the concierge was dark and deserted. I mounted to my own room, found the seals on the door undisturbed, broke them and entered. My heart was beating madly as I lighted the candle and looked around. It seemed to me that I could still detect the sweet, faint perfume of Nanette’s presence in the room. I set to work to repair its disorder, and picked up with reverent fingers the garment upon which she had been working. I did not remove the threaded needle, but resolved that it should remain there, and that I would treasure the worn garment always.
Long time I sat by the table and mused over the day’s events. D’Argenson had said that the law was against me, and that, if no impediment was found, Nanette must do her uncle’s bidding. I shut my teeth together as I determined that this impediment should be found; that I would penetrate this mystery; that I would prevent this sacrifice. But how, how?
In an agony of apprehension, I prepared for bed. As I removed my doublet, something fell to the floor, and when I stooped to look more closely I saw it was the purse Nanette had given me. I picked it up with trembling hand, and sleep found me with it clasped close against my heart.