The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy (best historical biographies .txt) 📗

It was then two o’clock in the afternoon. Gourdon, after he had snatched a hasty dinner at a neighbouring cabaret, had returned to the task of pulling the château of Gentilly about his own ears if need be, with a view to finding the concealed treasure.

For the nonce he was standing in the centre of the finely proportioned hall. The rich ormolu and crystal chandelier lay in a tangled, broken heap of scraps at his feet, and all around there was a confused medley of pictures, statuettes, silver ornaments, tapestry and brocade hangings, all piled up in disorder, smashed, tattered, kicked at now and again by Gourdon, to the accompaniment of a savage oath.

The house itself was full of noises; heavy footsteps tramping up and down the stairs, furniture turned over, curtains torn from their poles, doors and windows battered in. And through it all the ceaseless hammering of pick and axe, attacking these stately walls which had withstood the wars and sieges of centuries.

Every now and then Tournefort, his face perspiring and crimson with exertion, would present himself at the door of the hall. Gourdon would query gruffly: “Well?”

And the answer was invariably the same: “Nothing!”

Then Gourdon would swear again and send curt orders to continue the search, relentlessly, ceaselessly.

“Leave no stone upon stone,” he commanded. “Those diamonds must be found. We know they are here, and, name of a dog! I mean to have them.”

When Chauvelin arrived at the château he made no attempt at first to interfere with Gourdon’s commands. Only on one occasion he remarked curtly:

“I suppose, citizen Gourdon, that you can trust your search party?”

“Absolutely,” retorted Gourdon. “A finer patriot than Tournefort does not exist.”

“Probably,” rejoined the other dryly. “But what about the men?”

“Oh! they are only a set of barefooted, ignorant louts. They do as they are told, and Tournefort has his eye on them. I dare say they’ll contrive to steal a few things, but they would never dare lay hands on valuable jewellery. To begin with, they could never dispose of it. Imagine a va-nu-pieds peddling a diamond tiara!”

“There are always receivers prepared to take risks.”

“Very few,” Gourdon assured him, “since we decreed that trafficking with aristo property was a crime punishable by death.”

Chauvelin said nothing for the moment. He appeared wrapped in his own thoughts, listened for a while to the confused hubbub about the house, then he resumed abruptly:

“Who are these men whom you are employing, citizen Gourdon?”

“A well-known gang,” replied the other. “I can give you their names.”

“If you please.”

Gourdon searched his pockets for a paper which he found presently and handed to his colleague. The latter perused it thoughtfully.

“Where did Tournefort find these men?” he asked.

“For the most part at the Cabaret de la Liberté⁠—a place of very evil repute down in the Rue Christine.”

“I know it,” rejoined the other. He was still studying the list of names which Gourdon had given him. “And,” he added, “I know most of these men. As thorough a set of ruffians as we need for some of our work. Merri, Guidal, Rateau, Desmonds. Tiens!” he exclaimed. “Rateau! Is Rateau here now?”

“Why, of course! He was recruited, like the rest of them, for the day. He won’t leave till he has been paid, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?”

“I will tell you presently. But I would wish to speak with citizen Rateau first.”

Just at this moment Tournefort paid his periodical visit to the hall. The usual words, “Still nothing,” were on his lips, when Gourdon curtly ordered him to go and fetch the citizen Rateau.

A minute or two later Tournefort returned with the news that Rateau could nowhere be found. Chauvelin received the news without any comment; he only ordered Tournefort, somewhat roughly, back to his work. Then, as soon as the latter had gone, Gourdon turned upon his colleague.

“Will you explain⁠—” he began with a show of bluster.

“With pleasure,” replied Chauvelin blandly. “On my way hither, less than an hour ago, I met your man Rateau, a league or so from here.”

“You met Rateau!” exclaimed Gourdon impatiently. “Impossible! He was here then, I feel sure. You must have been mistaken.”

“I think not. I have only seen the man once, when I, too, went to recruit a band of ruffians at the Cabaret de la Liberté, in connection with some work I wanted doing. I did not employ him then, for he appeared to me both drink-sodden and nothing but a miserable, consumptive creature, with a churchyard cough you can hear half a league away. But I would know him anywhere. Besides which, he stopped and wished me good morning. Now I come to think of it,” added Chauvelin thoughtfully, “he was carrying what looked like a heavy bundle under his arm.”

“A heavy bundle!” cried Gourdon, with a forceful oath. “And you did not stop him!”

“I had no reason for suspecting him. I did not know until I arrived here what the whole affair was about, or whom you were employing. All that the Committee knew for certain was that you and Tournefort and a number of men had arrived at Gentilly before daybreak, and I was then instructed to follow you hither to see what mischief you were up to. You acted in complete secrecy, remember, citizen Gourdon, and without first ascertaining the wishes of the Committee of Public Safety, whose servant you are. If the Sucy diamonds are not found, you alone will be held responsible for their loss to the Government of the People.”

Chauvelin’s voice had now assumed a threatening tone, and Gourdon felt all his audacity and self-assurance fall away from him, leaving him a prey to nameless terror.

“We must round up Rateau,” he murmured hastily. “He cannot have gone far.”

“No, he cannot,” rejoined Chauvelin dryly. “Though I was not specially thinking of Rateau or of diamonds when I started to come hither. I did send a general order forbidding any person on foot or horseback