The Orphan's Tale (32 page)

Their lips met, touched lightly, clung and then parted, and she looked down at him with the breath fluttering in her throat.
Her hand trembled as it curved to the line of his jaw.

She could feel him tense for a moment, as though he were fighting against something.
And then he drew her closer to him and gently, almost shyly, tilted her face to his and kissed her again.

She never knew afterwards how she came to be on his knee, in the circle of his embrace, but it seemed so right to her that she settled into his arms with a half
-laugh of pure happiness. Even in the midst of a delightful whirl of emotion, she was oddly aware of the fact that she had never felt so safe before. She drew away a little to smile at him, her arm lingering about his shoulders while her other hand stroked through his hair and traced the softened curve of his mouth with gentle fingers.

He caught her hand to his lips.
"Elise," he said unsteadily.

"
Hush," she whispered, and claimed his lips with all the passion that was reawakening within her.

A
loud knock sounded at the door. It stopped, then began again, more insistently.

"
M. Chief Inspector!"

The mood was broken.
Malet's eyes flickered and he turned toward the door. "What is it?" he demanded.

Elise slid from his arms and stepped back, shaken.

The door burst open to admit two breathless and disheveled troopers of the city patrol, along with Claude, who was protesting volubly and uttering alternating threats and pleas.

"
These mannerless boobies insisted in charging in here, Madame!"  he said to Elise. "I tried - "

"
M. l'Inspecteur, there is - " said the head trooper.

Elise's heart lurched with sudden panic; her hand flew to her breast.

"Wait a moment, you specimen of an ape!" cried Claude. "You're upsetting the lady!"

"
Hold your tongues!" snapped Malet. He skewered the three men with a glare, then rose, drew a chair forward for Elise, and waited until she was seated. "Now tell me the meaning of this unseemly uproar."

The second trooper offered a folded piece of paper without comment.

Malet took it, opened it, and read. He raised his head after a moment. "Rioting in this rain?" he said. He shook his head. "You - " he nodded to the first man. "Go back to your commander and tell him to hold the line. You - " this to the second, as he took out his pencil and wrote swiftly on the message, "Take this note to the Prefecture. I have given instructions there. I will follow you directly. Now go. As for you, M. Kerouac, if you'd be kind enough to bring the dry coat and hat from my rooms, I'd be grateful."

Claude bowed and left, followed by the troopers.

Elise watched them leave and then looked up at Malet. "What is it?" she asked.

"
Some looting in the 5th arrondissement," said Malet. "By the river, in one of the poorer sections. It started half an hour ago and has gotten out of hand. The Chief Inspector for that arrondissement reports two men are shot and has appealed for assistance to the Prefecture. I will bring reinforcements."

"
B-but you aren't going yourself, are you?" she asked faintly, caught by the thought of him in danger.

"
I have no choice," said Malet as he cast an eye over his pistols.

Claude returned with his coat and hat, and held them as Malet shrugged himself into the coat with a word of thanks.

Elise watched him turn toward the door. "Wait!" she said. "Your umbrella!"

He turned back, eyed the umbrella with the hint of a grin, and said,
"I think I will leave it here. Don't have anyone wait up for me. God alone knows how long I will be."

He was out the door the next moment.

CONSTANT DRACQUET LEARNS THAT

'IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED TRY, TRY AGAIN'

DOES NOT APPLY TO MATTERS INVOLVING PAUL MALET

The next day was sunny, clear and warmer. The sky was a mild vibrant blue, and the west wind was soft and somehow playful. It tugged at the hems of the ladies' dresses, whisked at the edges of shawls and pushed leaves before it. The Jardin du Luxembourg was crowded with people enjoying the sunshine and laughing at the foppish gentlemen chasing their hats. Paul Malet was one of the laughers.

He had found himself with the morning's work finished by 11:30 a.m.
He was expected to meet with Count d'Anglars at 3:00 p.m. to discuss the presence of Pierre le Noir and the Duke of Rochester in Paris and what steps to take, but there was nothing else to do until then, and he was too restless with happiness to be able to face the thought of sitting idly in the Prefect's elegant office.

He had decided to enjoy the gardens at the
Luxembourg Palace and then return for a leisurely lunch at his favorite restaurant at the Place du Chatelet. Now he strolled down the main walkway of the gardens and past the octagonal reflecting pool. There were, as usual, crowds of children laughing and squabbling, sailing their little boats on the flashing, rippling waters.

He paused and watched for a moment, smiling.
He had seen a little sailboat once, when he was a child. To that day he could remember how desperately he had yearned for one like it, not knowing that such a toy was as far out of the reach of a prison brat as the moon.

Children have a capacity for hope that, though often betrayed, is never quite discouraged, and Paul had hoped that somehow, someday he too would have a little sailboat.
The fulfillment of that hope still ranked as one of the shining moments of Malet's life, and in his mind he could still see the rakish lines of the sailboat's hull and touch the sails with fingertips that lost none of their awe in the thirty-six years since he had received the boat.

Malet's smile deepened; now he knew how Joseph Young had sat up during the long nights smoothing a piece of firewood with a homemade knife that he had carefully hidden from the guards.
It must have been painfully slow work, but he had done it, for his Pippin, the adopted son of his old age, had to have his toy.

Malet saw a little boy hovering at the edge of the basin, wistfully watching the sailboats; he went to the pavilion set up to one side, paid several sous for the rental of a boat, and then went over to the lone child.

"Here, son," he said, giving the boat to the boy, "Go ahead and sail it. Return it to those fellows there - " he pointed, " - when you're through."

He nodded to the child and turned down one of the subordinate paths of the park that led to the southwest corner of the gardens, where the walkways wound through unexpected stands of trees and secluded nooks.
He followed the path to a cul-de-sac and sat down on a bench overlooking a bed of chrysanthemums. He folded his hands in his lap and raised his face into the wind to watch the trees swaying before him.

He felt as light
-hearted as a boy. The memory of the past evening lingered on, filling him with warmth that effaced even his increasing concentration as he closed in on Constant Dracquet. Everything around him, the trees and flowers, the strollers, even the warm old stones of the Luxembourg palace, seemed to glow with a reflection of his happiness.

He loved Elise de Clichy.
That was no surprise, certainly, but he knew now that she loved him. How could he doubt it after a night like last night, with his heart still quivering with the memory of her embraces? And yet, feeling for her as he did, he knew that he would have to be very careful with her. She had the power to intoxicate him, and who knew where matters might have ended, with her so warm and willing in his arms, if those troopers hadn't knocked on the door at the precise moment that they had? That must not happen again. He couldn't risk compromising her.

But all was well.
The rioting had been a minor affair after all, over within two hours, at the same time the rain had ceased. There had been two casualties among the Police called in, but Malet was confident that they would recover. He had snatched a quick, light meal of coffee and bread at the Prefecture and then returned to the Rose d'Or to find Elise waiting anxiously for him.

She had not spoken of what had passed between them before he left.
Instead, she had assured herself that he wasn't hurt and then said, "The rain is over and I saw some stars through the clouds. Can we go for a walk together?"

Although
Malet had not forgotten Count d'Anglars' caution about the presence of Pierre le Noir in Paris meaning possible danger to him, the prospect of an hour or two alone with Elise under the stars had outweighed caution. He had made one concession by engaging a cab to take them to the Tuileries gardens, where he judged that the crowds would afford them some measure of safety. He had taken his pistols with him and resolved to be careful - and then forgot everything in the pleasure of her company.

They had walked arm in arm through the rain
-silvered streets for what had seemed like hours, talking of everything and anything while the warming air sent streamers of mist upward from the pavement.

Elise had spoken of her girlhood in the Faubourg Saint
-Germain, and then she had wanted to hear about his life in Toulon prison and, later, in the Police. He had told her what he thought was fitting, and she had heard what he left unsaid and took his hand in hers, just for a moment.

They had strolled through the evening while the lamplighters came and turned the twilight city into a galaxy of soft lights that mirrored the stars above them.
She had wanted him to show her the stars, to point out Orion and Pegasus and maybe even see a falling star. And, wonder of wonders, they had seen one arching down over the Place de la Concorde as they passed along the Rue de Rivoli.

They had driven back to the Rose d'Or and shared one of Yvette's sugar cakes and two tiny glasses of brandy before he rose to take his leave and go up to his rooms.
She had held out her hand with a warm smile, and he had bent to kiss it.

He had held her hand a moment longer, released it, and went out of the salon to the stairs.

He had mounted the stairs and turned at the landing to look down. She had been smiling quietly up at him from the foot of the stairs, and he had known in that moment that he did not want to live without her.

Had he not been a paying guest under her roof, he would have gone back down to her there and then, taken her in his arms, and asked for her hand.
Instead, he had bowed to her and continued to his room. But he had been smiling, and the smile had lingered through the night and into the next day. It warmed his lips now as he opened his eyes and gazed up at the blue sky.

He heard a step on the gravel path beside him; he did not look that way, but every sense was suddenly alert.
The steps came closer, paused, and then the bench shifted and settled as another man sat down.

"
Good day, Chief Inspector," said a voice beside him.

Malet's mouth moved in a faint, ironic smile as he said,
"Good day, M. Dracquet." He twitched the hem of his coat aside.

Dracquet was silent for a moment as he looked Malet up and down.
"You didn't come to dine with me yesterday," he said at last. "Or the day before. It was discourteous of you. I had two perfectly delicious meals awaiting you, and they went to waste."

"
I told you that I wouldn't come," Malet said.

"
You said you wouldn't say no," said Dracquet.

"
That was after you told me you wouldn't take no for an answer."

"
You're oddly squeamish for a man of your reputation," said Dracquet. "Did you fear an assassination attempt?"

Malet caught an undertone of anger, but Dracquet's face was bland when he looked up.
"I simply don't care to dine with you," he said.

Dracquet made a distasteful motion with his hands.
"Squeamish," he said. "There is still a matter that must be handled between us."

"
I wasn't aware that we needed to have any further direct dealings," said Malet.

"
You're too modest," said Dracquet. "There's much that we can discuss. Our association could be quite lucrative."

Malet said,
"Really? What bribe do you offer me?"

Dracquet smiled and shook his head.
"You're a valuable and dangerous man, Inspector. I am aware of your quality. A bribe won't answer with you."

"
Plain speaking!"

"
Hear plainer speaking, then," said Dracquet. "Bribes are offered all the time. It's merely a question of degree. But I have something more compelling."

"
Oh?" said Malet.

"
Precisely," said Dracquet. He reached into his breast pocket and took out a notebook, which he opened. "I told you that I have assembled a dossier on you. You might be surprised at what is in it - and perhaps even a little chagrined."