The Orphan's Tale (39 page)

Paul

He folded the note, selected a wafer, heated it, and sealed the note.
That done, he rose and went out into the anteroom.

Two of the office boys were sitting at an empty desk and playing at dice.
They jumped to attention as they felt Malet's gaze on them, and the nearer one tried to fumble the dice into his pocket.

"
Alphonse," said Malet, nodding to the boy with the hint of a grim smile.

"
M-me, M. Chief Inspector?" the boy stammered.

"
Yes. You. Take this message to the address on the front. It's urgent: see that it is given to the major-domo there, and no one else. Wait to see if there is a response, and then come straight back here."

He handed the note to the boy and watched him hurry off.
"Oh - Alphonse - " he said.

The boy turned.
Malet tossed him a franc. "Stop and enjoy a glass of wine on the way back," he said.

The boy grinned, sketched a salute, and left at a run.

**  **  **

"
Be careful with this fellow, M. Chief Inspector," said the head hostler the next day. They were standing in the inner courtyard of the Prefecture, gazing at the bay thoroughbred stallion, which had been brought over from the Police stables at Malet's direction. "I know you have had an eye to him since he was first brought in, but no one's had the chance to give him a good gallop. He needs to have the fidgets shaken out of his legs."

Malet let his eyes travel down the stallion's arched neck and along his strong, sloping shoulder.
The light ran in all colors along the glossy hide, almost blue in the shadows, almost golden in the highlights. "He is a beauty," Malet said.

"
And a real gentleman, for all his spirit," said the hostler with a grin. "Here - " he handed the reins over and then eyed Malet's height and build. "He's well up to your weight, but the stirrups'll need to be lengthened. Wait a minute and I will do that for you right now."

Malet thanked him and spoke softly to the stallion while the hostler adjusted the leathers. The horse was nervous; his ears had been flicking back and forth.
As Malet spoke, they slowed and finally pricked forward.

"
All set, Inspector," said the hostler.

Malet nodded, gathered the reins in his left hand, set his left foot in the stirrup, and then sprang into the saddle.

The stallion snorted and danced a little at the weight upon his back, but stood quietly enough after a moment.

"
Very good," said Malet. He nudged the horse to a walk and then a trot, then collected him easily. The stallion moved smoothly over the cobblestones, and then eased into a rocking, collected canter.

Malet nodded, slowed the horse to a trot, then a walk, and then halted.
He looked over at the two gendarmes flanking the gate. "One of you step outside and see how clear the street is," he said.

The stallion jibbed at the bit and danced sideways.
"Don't worry, my boy," Malet told him with a grin, "One more second and you'll get all the running you want!"

The large oak doors opened inward a crack, and the younger of the gendarmes edged through.
He came back after a moment. "Clear, M. l'Inspecteur," he said.

"
Very good," said Malet. "Open the gates and stand aside." When the gates were completely open, Malet eased the stallion to a walk that quickened to a trot and then a gallop. They swept beneath the gateway with a flick of the stallion's black tail and clattered onto the cobblestoned street.

Three tough
-looking characters lounging in the shadow of the Sainte-Chappelle jumped to their feet and stared as he pounded past them, rounded the corner of the Boulevard du Palais and turned onto the Quai des Orfevres. They made a half-hearted attempt to follow him, but they slowed and stopped after half a block. Malet saw them arguing among themselves; the sight made him grin.

He was at the Place Dauphine; he cut directly through and then caught the northern half of the Pont Neuf and crossed the river at a tearing gallop that did not lessen until he had reached the Louvre, when he reined the stallion to a collected trot and sat back to think.

The horse shook his head and pulled lightly at the bit. Malet chuckled and said, "So you want to run again, eh? Well, then, let's run! It would be rude to keep a lady waiting!" And he turned the stallion toward the high, gilded dome of Les Invalides.

A LADY PROVIDES THE STAGE SETTING

Rosalie Plessis flung the trailing skirt of her royal blue riding habit over her left arm and smiled up at Malet.
"You always were prompt, dearest Paul," she said. "Eleven-thirty exactly!"

"
I'd never dream of keeping a lady waiting." Malet swung down from the saddle and led his horse over to Rosalie. They were in the shadow of the Dome des Invalides, in the Place Vauban. He took in the full elegance of her habit with its deep, plunging neckline edged with ruffles of lisle, and its wide, full sleeves, as he raised her hand to his lips.

She read his thoughts.
"You approve?" she asked. "I had this from Courceline this week."

"
You are completely elegant."

Her hand went to her neckline.
"This isn't too décolleté, is it?" she asked. Whether by accident or design, the motion of her hand showed the tantalizing hint of soft shadows between swells of firm rosy flesh.

"
Not at all," Malet replied with a knowing smile. "It suits the purpose very well." He offered his arm and then, when she had tucked her hand in it and was walking beside him, said, "Now what is this information you thought I should have?"

She gazed up at him with a direct smile.
"Oh no, M. Chief Inspector," she said. "I know you too well. I may never see you again: I want to spend at least part of the afternoon with you. Come walk with me a ways, and I will tell you what I have."

             
**  **  **

"
Where did you find this diagram of Dracquet's house?" Malet demanded later. They had strolled through the Champ de Mars and were now seated at ease beneath a tree. "Did you pay someone for it?"

"
I drew it myself," Rosalie replied. "Dracquet had some thought of installing me there permanently as his mistress, and he showed me all around the house."

"
Then you did this from memory?

"
Of course," said Rosalie. "You forget my profession. I have a memory for these things - it comes of years of practicing on various stages, with sets that change from day to day." She watched Malet's expression and asked, "Can you use it?"

"
I certainly can!" said Malet. He frowned at the diagram and then raised his eyes to the interlaced branches over his head. He was clothing the bare outline of the walls with the shape and height of the rooms within. He prowled through the house in his mind and stalked Dracquet through its corridors.

Rosalie, sitting beside him with her head pillowed against his shoulder, watched him and smiled to herself.
He seemed happier: the lady he loved must have come to love him in return. That was very good to know, and she wished the lady every happiness - after this afternoon. "Do you find it useful?" she asked softly, as she traced the seam of his coat sleeve with a fingertip.

"
Indeed I do," Malet replied. He transferred his gaze back to the diagram.

Rosalie turned a little more toward him, settled her cheek in the hollow below his shoulder, ran her fingers lightly along the breast of his waistcoat, then eased them inside to savor the satisfying swell of his chest through the fabric of his shirt.
"Do you think I should request payment for them?" she asked mildly.

Malet lowered the diagram and frowned into space.
He was superimposing the outline over his memory of the house seen from the outside. The courtyard lying slightly to the side, the arched entry with a deep recess to either side of the door... "The Police pays its informers," he said as he mentally positioned a squad of gendarmes to either side of the door and stood back to see if it could be done. "They're usually quite generous... This is invaluable."

He blinked and banished the picture, and looked down into her wide eyes.
What he saw made him smile, but with a touch of compunction. He folded the diagram and tucked it away in his breast pocket. "Rosalie," he said.

"
I had dared to hope for payment in a certain coin," she said with the breath of a chuckle at the shadow of a frown between his eyebrows as she tipped his face down toward hers for a leisurely kiss. "I am leaving Paris tomorrow, and this will be farewell."

She drew back, puzzled after a moment.
"What is it, Paul?" she said after a pause.

"
I can't pay you that way," Malet said.

She pushed the veil of her hat over her shoulder and stared up at him.
"Why not?" she demanded. "I am in your arms at the moment, and you didn't object the other day."

"
I got caught up in the past that night," he said. "And it was wonderful to remember you. I had forgotten how much you meant to me. You were a true friend, and I loved you."

"
'Were'," she repeated, speaking directly and with steady intensity. "Are you completely indifferent to me now?"

"
No man could be indifferent to you," he said with the same calm intensity. "I would be less than a man if I didn't find you beautiful and desirable beyond most women. How could you think otherwise?"

The softening of the sharp, grieved edges of her expression showed that she understood.

"And beyond your beauty is your wit, your kindness - I am proud to have become your friend, and I will never lose my admiration for you. But we said our farewells years ago and went our separate ways, and I can't find my way back to you."

Rosalie closed her eyes for a moment.
"She loves you, then?" she asked quietly.

"
Yes," he said. "I believe she does."

Her mouth moved into a rueful half-smile as she raised her hands to cup his face, tracing the line of his lips before drawing him gently to her for a last, quiet kiss.
"If you have truly found love, Paul, I won't ask for your second-best, and I won't ask you to betray the lady. I pray she can make you happy - and I envy her from the bottom of my heart."

He took the folded diagram and silently handed it back to her.

She waved it away with a flick of her fingertips. "No, it is for you," she said. "If it makes your task easier and puts you at less risk, I am content. I can't imagine a world where I did not know that somehow, somewhere, you were part of it. You'll always have a little of my heart, and I think I still have something of yours."

"
You do," he said. "You always will. I only wish - "

He did not finish the thought, but Rosalie nodded.
"Sometimes I learn to value what I have had only after I have lost it," she said.

"
You won't lose what you have of me," he said quietly. He drew a long breath, and said more easily, "You sail tomorrow: can we drink champagne and toast your future?"

"
And the past?" she said. "Of course."

She watched with a reminiscent smile as he got to his feet in one fluid motion, and leaned down to offer a hand to her.
As she watched, he paused to pick up something from the grass, wrap it in his handkerchief, and put it in his pocket.

**  **  **

Elise watched as Malet took out a handkerchief-wrapped packet from the breast of his jacket and handed it to her. "For me?" she said. "What is it?"

"
Look and see," he said.

She opened it.
"A wren's egg!" she exclaimed. "And so perfect, too! Where did you find it?"

"
In a park I was in this afternoon," he said. "It had fallen out of the nest, I think, and was sheltered in the roots of the tree."

"
I would never have seen it," she said, turning it over in her hand. "Your eyes must be very sharp."

"D
o you like it?" he asked. "I enjoy watching birds, but I felt a little foolish saving it for you."

"
Oh not at all! I love it! I will put it on the shelf here - " She turned around suddenly. "Did they have birds in that prison?"

"
Gulls," said Malet. "I made a pet of one of them, once. He followed me to Marseilles when I left the prison and went into the Police. I had him for years. I named him Odysseus."

"
What happened to him?" Elise asked.

"
He died, finally," said Malet. "I missed him for a long time."

"
But he followed you to Marseilles," Elise repeated. Her smile warmed as she gazed on him.

"
Screaming for fish heads."