第108章 XIX.(3)

"Remember, too, my dear Goudar, that, if you succeed, these fifteen thousand francs would only be a part payment. They might, perhaps, double the sum. M. de Boiscoran is the most liberal of men, and he would take pleasure in royally rewarding the man who should have saved him."As he spoke, he opened the pocket-book, and drew from it fifteen thousand-franc notes, which he spread out on the table.

"To any one but to you," he went on, "I should hesitate to pay such a sum in advance. Another man might take the money, and never trouble himself about the affair. But I know your uprightness; and, if you give me your word in return for the notes, I shall be satisfied. Come, shall it be so?"The detective was evidently not a little excited; for, self-possessed as he was, he had turned somewhat pale. He hesitated, handled the bank-notes, and then, all of a sudden, said,--"Wait two minutes."

He got up instantly, and ran towards the house.

"Is he going to consult his wife?" M. Folgat asked himself.

He did so; for the next moment they appeared at the other end of the walk, engaged in a lively discussion. However, the discussion did not last long. Goudar came back to the bower, and said,--"Agreed! I am your man!"

The advocate was delighted, and shook his hand.

"Thank you!" he cried; "for, with your assistance, I am almost sure of success. Unfortunately, we have no time to lose. When can you go to work?""This moment. Give me time to change my costume; and I am at your service. You will have to give me the keys of the house in Passy.""I have them here in my pocket."

"Well, then let us go there at once; for I must, first of all, reconnoitre the ground. And you shall see if it takes me long to dress."In less than fifteen minutes he reappeared in a long overcoat, with gloves on, looking, for all the world, like one of those retired grocers who have made a fortune, and settled somewhere outside of the corporation of Paris, displaying their idleness in broad daylight, and repenting forever that they have given up their occupation.

"Let us go," he said to the lawyer.

After having bowed to Mrs. Goudar, who accompanied them with a radiant smile, they got into the carriage, calling out to the driver,--"Vine Street, Passy, No. 23."

This Vine Street is a curious street, leading nowhere, little known, and so deserted, that the grass grows everywhere. It stretches out long and dreary, is hilly, muddy, scarcely paved, and full of holes, and looks much more like a wretched village lane than like a street belonging to Paris. No shops, only a few homes, but on the right and the left interminable walls, overtopped by lofty trees.

"Ah! the place is well chosen for mysterious rendezvouses," growled Goudar. "Too well chosen, I dare say; for we shall pick up no information here."The carriage stopped before a small door, in a thick wall, which bore the traces of the two sieges in a number of places.

"Here is No. 23," said the driver; "but I see no house."It could not be seen from the street; but, when they got in, Mr.

Folgat and Goudar saw it, rising in the centre of an immense garden, simple and pretty, with a double porch, a slate roof, and newly-painted blinds.

"Great God!" exclaimed the detective, "what a place for a gardener!"And M. Folgat felt so keenly the man's ill-concealed desire, that he at once said,--"If we save M. de Boiscoran, I am sure he will not keep this house.""Let us go in," cried the detective, in a voice which revealed all his intense desire to succeed.

Unfortunately, Jacques de Boiscoran had spoken but too truly, when he said that no trace was left of former days. Furniture, carpets, all was new; and Goudar and M. Folgat in vain explored the four rooms down stairs, and the four rooms up stairs, the basement, where the kitchen was, and finally the garret.

"We shall find nothing here," declared the detective. "To satisfy my conscience, I shall come and spend an afternoon here; but now we have more important business. Let us go and see the neighbors!"There are not many neighbors in Vine Street.

A teacher and a nurseryman, a locksmith and a liveryman, five or six owners of houses, and the inevitable keeper of a wine-shop and restaurant, these were the whole population.

"We shall soon make the rounds," said Goudar, after having ordered the coachman to wait for them at the end of the street.

Neither the head master nor his assistants knew any thing. The nurseryman had heard it said that No. 23 belonged to an Englishman;but he had never seen him, and did not even know his name.

The locksmith knew that he was called Francis Burnett. He had done some work for him, for which he had been well paid, and thus he had frequently seen him; but it was so long since, that he did not think he would recognize him.

"We are unlucky," said M. Folgat, after this visit.

The memory of the liveryman was more trustworthy. He said he knew the Englishman of No. 23 very well, having driven him three or four times;and the description he gave of him answered fully to Jacques de Boiscoran. He also remembered that one evening, when the weather was wretched, Sir Burnett had come himself to order a carriage. It was for a lady, who had got in alone, and who had been driven to the Place de la Madeleine. But it was a dark night; the lady wore a thick veil; he had not been able to distinguish her features, and all he could say was that she looked above medium height.

"It is always the same story," said Goudar. "But the wine-merchant ought to be best informed. If I were alone I would breakfast there.""I shall breakfast with you," said M. Folgat.

They did so, and they did wisely.

The wine-merchant did not know much; but his waiter, who had been with him five or six years, knew Sir Burnett, as everybody called the Englishman, by sight, and was quite well acquainted with the servant-girl, Suky Wood. While he was bringing in breakfast, he told them all he knew.