The Orphan's Tale (36 page)

Dracquet had hailed a cab and stepped inside, and a moment later the cab had gone off at a canter.
At that moment if Dracquet, swearing and rubbing his backside, had found himself sharing the coach with Orestes in his flight from the furies, he might have discovered a kindred soul.

Larouche chuckled and made his way back into the gardens, looking for something amusing to watch.
Maybe Monseigneur was still there, though he decided, in all fairness, that Monseigneur had enjoyed quite enough of his attentions for the day.

He made his way up the tree
-lined Avenue de l'Observatoire, his lively eyes darting to and fro, watching the strollers, alert for any neglected food or blankets. Pickings were slim now that the weather was growing colder; he had found nothing for the past several days. Luck was with him this day: two lovers on a secluded bench, intent on each other's company, did not see him make away with their half-eaten box of chocolates.

He nibbled at a chocolate, the box under his arm, and favored those who stared at him with a smudged smile.
Chocolate was delicious! He had had so little of it in his short life that this taste was like a sample of the joys of paradise.

The old woman who sold flowers at the Rue August Comte smiled at him, as usual, and beckoned him over to give him a carnation, which she insisted on placing in the frayed top buttonhole of his shirt.
He grinned at her and offered her a chocolate.

"
Not but what I should tell the cops about you, you little thief!" she said with a gap-toothed smile. "Eh, but I recall a time when I had boxes and boxes of these, as much as I wanted to eat!"

Larouche cocked a doubtful eye at her.

"Oh but I did!" she said. She broke off to sell a rosebud to a passing dandy. "Time was I was a beauty, and the King himself noticed me!"

"
Oh?" Larouche said skeptically, "Which king?"

"
Louis XVIII! He wasn't king then, of course. But I was quite the fashion for a year or so! The du Barry ruined me!" She shrugged and sniffed a rose. "It's better so," she said. "It saved me from the guillotine."

She eyed the chocolate box that Larouche offered her and finally took another.
"Come here tomorrow and I will have some bread and meat for you," she said. "Chocolates are all well and good, but a boy your age needs good food."

Larouche grinned at her and ate another piece of candy.
"This is good," he said.

She ignored the comment.
"Winter's coming on," she said after a moment. "What will you do then? Have you found a place to stay?"

Larouche shrugged.
He didn't like to be reminded. "I will get by," he said.

She hid a smile.
"Well, if you decide you'd like something specific, I have a grandson who owns a little bistro at the Rue des Morts, in Montparnasse. He's looking for a boy to wait tables and clean up for the winter, and maybe even longer, depending on how it works out. There's a bed in the stable and a franc a week. I spoke of you and he was interested. Said that if you were the honest sort of lad I said you were, there might be a place for you. Why don't you go and talk to him?"

"
What sort of hell-hole is it?" Larouche demanded.

"
No hell-hole," she said. "Oh, the students go there a lot and talk nonsense, just like they talked in '89! But there's no harm to them and only air between their ears! If you want to talk to him, my grandson's name is Jean-Claude Bessier. Tell him I sent you!"

Larouche grinned and opened the box again to offer her another piece of chocolate.

"Maybe I will!" he said. Suddenly the thought of winter didn't seem so terrible. He sketched a salute, like he had seen the soldiers do, and turned away. And then he froze in dismay.

Monseigneur was bearing down on them like an avenging angel, his eyes flashing, his face pale with fury.

The flower-seller crossed herself and muttered an Ave Maria. Larouche, shrinking back against the flower-stand, could only stare wide-eyed as he drew near.

Monseigneur's stride was as light and brisk as ever, but it had a sort of vehemence about it now that hadn't been there before, as though he were restraining an explosion of rage with a choke
-rein. The hem of his coat, however, seemed to mirror the turbulence of his mood, for it whipped and churned, as though in the force of a gale. The capes, billowing out in the wind, rippled and cracked like wings. His walking stick was clenched in his hand like a sword. Larouche saw that Monseigneur's clothing was in unaccustomed disorder. His coat was half-unbuttoned, his shirt collar was open, and his cravat, an unusually fine one of wine-colored silk, was gone.

Larouche's eyes widened and he tried to flatten himself behind a sheaf of chrysanthemums.

Monseigneur passed the flower stall without a glance, stormed across the Place Andre Honnorat, and followed the Rue August Comte to the Boulevard St. Michel, passing through the crowds that parted before him as the Red Sea had parted before Moses.

Larouche turned to stare after him with relieved astonishment as he swept past.
The petals of the flowers quivered in the breeze of his passing.

Well!
Larouche drew a deep breath and turned to the flower-seller, who was fanning herself. "Holy shit!" he said, "What set him off?"

"
Something got his goat!" she said.

"
Something got his whole stable!" Larouche said. "I am glad it wasn't me!" He grinned and opened the chocolate box again. "Have another," he said. "I will talk to your grandson."

And
he thought, best get out of his way!

HAVING BOUGHT A NEW CRAVAT

INSPECTOR MALET PLANS A HUNT

Two hours later, Malet smiled grimly down at a sheet of paper that he had just finished filling with writing, and handed it to Sergeant Guillart.

"
There," he said. "That is a good description of the man: stocky, very broad shoulders, barrel-chested. He has white hair, a short, white beard, very blue eyes, and he appears to be in his mid-sixties." Malet paused to finger his cravat, a beautiful new one of heavy blue Lyonnais silk, expertly knotted. He had bought it with Vaux' money.

"
I want this notice forwarded to all the Police posts in Paris and the outlying communities of the Seine et Oise Departement," he said, biting each word off. "Any man of that description is to be noted and followed discreetly until he reaches his home. The address and a description of the place is to be sent to me, as well as an outline of his activities. I also want his name, if it can be obtained. But: he's not to be apprehended or..." he paused and searched for the proper word. Finding it, he added, "annoyed under any circumstances. Not yet."

He paused and his smile became vaguely vicious.
"I want this effective immediately! I want to find that man!"

"
Yes, sir," said Guillart. He scanned the description, then looked up into Malet's eyes. They were glinting with securely leashed rage. He wondered what the stocky, white-haired man had done to trigger that wrath, but he merely smiled and nodded. "It shall be done," he said. "And you asked me this morning to remind you that His Excellency will be meeting you here at 3:00 p.m."

"
Thank you," said Malet. He took out his watch and checked the time. Half an hour. He rose and paced over to the pillar that lay to the left of Guillart's desk. "Well," he said. "Disseminate this bulletin, if you please, and coordinate any information that comes in. I am depending on you - with perfect confidence, as you know."

"
You'll be in your offices?" Guillart asked.

"
M. le Prefet's offices," Malet corrected automatically. "Yes, I will."

"
I will have one of the boys bring you some coffee, then," said Guillart, eyeing Malet's cravat. It was different from the one he recalled seeing that morning. He watched Malet turn and head toward the Prefect's offices, then frowned down at the description of the man.

Malet was intercepted by the Chamberlain, as usual, but Clerel took one look at his expression and limited himself to frigid correctness.
He took himself off as soon as he had relieved Malet of his coat and hat. He gently closed the door after he left, and went back to Guillart, shaking his head.

Malet watched the door close and then sat down, swearing, and buried his face in his hands.
To see Lambert again after all those years! And to see him after facing a viper like Dracquet! Why? Why? Why?

He was once more confronting the paradox that had troubled him ever since he had become an officer of the Law: the good man who was nevertheless a criminal under the Law.
And the opposite side of the coin was Dracquet, the evil man who was not at odds with the Law. His duty was clear as regarded Vaux. Or was it?

He raised his head and scowled out the window.
Damn the man! Not only did he show up alive and healthy with a serene conscience, but he had to do so at the very moment when Malet was drawing his net tight about Dracquet! By rights Malet should concentrate his attention on pursuing the man who had been judged a criminal! After all, Dracquet had done nothing provably wrong!

Malet pushed himself to his feet, cursing, and began pacing, back and forth, back and forth across the priceless carpet.
He could have Vaux back in custody within three weeks if he set his mind to it! And he would go through the heartbreak all over again. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

He turned on his heel and went to the window.
The square before the cathedral was packed with strollers and beggars; a juggler was performing in a little clearing in the very center. Malet watched him for a moment and then turned away.

Good.
You're not hurt. You had me very worried for a moment... I mean you no harm...

Malet could hear Vaux' voice in his mind even as he laid out the hunt that he could direct.
His mind skipped over the relentless inquiries, the unceasing surveillance, the inexorable sifting through excuses and masquerades and brought him to the moment when, facing Vaux once more as the personification of the Law, he laid his hand on the man's shoulder -

He drew up short, surprised by the picture that his mind had drawn for him, unbidden, unexpected and welcome.
He had set his hand on Vaux' shoulder and said, Go in peace.

If only it were possible!

But was it impossible?

He had formidable discretionary powers and the ear of the Minister of Police: could he somehow use his influence to get another with the power to say it?
Of course he could! The law made exceptions, and a man like Vaux, so demonstrably good, would be certain to be freed!

Malet felt a sudden chill.
Or would he? There was always a risk -

"
Tchah!" he said. He would worry about that later. There would be time to decide what to do with Vaux when Vaux was caught. He had something more important to do just at the moment. He had a viper to trap, and he would soon be meeting with Count d'Anglars to discuss setting the trap. His lordship would be interested in a few of the things Dracquet had said in the park...

What time was it?
He looked at his watch. 2:55 p.m. He should go to the anteroom to greet His Excellency. He pushed himself to his feet, shook out his coattails, and started for the door. The strident sound of voices just outside the room made him stop, frowning.

"
I tell you, M. Chief Inspector, he does not wish to be disturbed!" It was Clerel's voice, uncharacteristically loud.

"
What he wishes and what he gets are two different things! Now get out of my way!"

Malet recognized Chief Inspector Guerin's voice.
His mouth thinned; he set his hand on the doorknob.

Clerel's voice came again.
"But I tell you, sir, he isn't to be disturbed!"

Malet flung the door open and stepped into the anteroom.

Clerel had been standing with his back to the door. He recoiled as though someone had jabbed him with a hot needle. "M. Chief Inspector," he said, "I do apologize for this! I tried to tell him - "

"
You did nothing wrong, M. Clerel.  You may go."

Guerin's eyes narrowed slightly as Malet spoke.
He folded his arms with an ironic smile as Clerel bowed and moved back. "So you're here, Malet," he said.

"
I assume you saw my signature in the log," said Malet with the edge of an ominous smile. "And Clerel didn't say that I was out, but that I wasn't to be disturbed."

Guerin lifted his eyebrows at Malet and pulled off his gloves.
"I am afraid I will be disturbing you nevertheless," he said.

Malet's smile began to glitter.
"So I have noticed. What do you want?"

The room was beginning to fill with silent, wide
-eyed people. Guerin looked around and then turned back to Malet. "I'd prefer to go into your office," he said.