The Greatest Historical Novels. Rafael Sabatini

The Greatest Historical Novels - Rafael Sabatini


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But for what, then, do you pay me, name of ...'

      'We do not pay you. Let me explain. The Citizen Batz and I are financiers, engaged in operations which you would hardly understand. Arrests and the like upon suspicions, however unfounded, are embarrassing to us. Whilst they cannot harm us further, since we are really good patriots, yet they destroy our credit and hamper us in several ways. To avoid interference it is proper that we should share with patriots of established character some portion of the profits we look to make. To you, Citizen Burlandeux, as I have said, we are prepared to entrust three hundred louis for distribution as you think fit. No doubt you will be able to do much good with it.'

      Burlandeux looked from one to the other of them. André-Louis smiled ingratiatingly. The Baron was impassive. He scarcely approved; yet he allowed André-Louis to have his way. The municipal did not reply immediately. His big chin sunk into his unclean neck-cloth, he considered rather than combated the temptation. He perceived that these aristocrats or foreign agents, or whatever they might be, could be turned into milk-cows for his profit. When he had drained these rascals, bled them white, it would still be time to do his duty by the Nation and fling them to the headsman. Thus, with a conscience at ease, and with some profanity, he assented.

      De Batz, still reluctant, took at André-Louis's request a bundle of assignats from the drawer of a cabinet in that daintily appointed room, and counted off the sum agreed.

      Burlandeux's eyes gleamed. As he pocketed them, he laughed.

      'This is, indeed, a proof of patriotism, citizens. Count Burlandeux your friend. And the friendship of Burlandeux—name of God!—is a stout buckler in these uneasy days.'

      Not until he had gone did the Baron utter a word of remonstrance.

      'What purpose is there in this waste?'

      'Waste? You didn't give him good ones, did you?'

      'Of course not. But even so! I don't distribute false assignats quite so freely. We shall never now be rid of that scoundrel.'

      'So he reckons!' André-Louis smiled. 'Wait here until I return. I will not keep you long.'

      He sought his hat, and departed without further explanations. He walked briskly by way of the Feuillants and the Tuileries Gardens to the Pavilion de Flore. Here he was informed that the Committee of Public Safety was not sitting, but that the secretary of the Committee was in his office. André-Louis desired to be conducted to him.

      The Citizen Sénard, one of the most valuable agents in the pay of de Batz, was already acquainted with André-Louis.

      A slight, sallow man with a sharp face under a thatch of thick hair prematurely grey, which at a little distance had the appearance of being powdered, he frowned darkly upon his visitor.

      'Ah, morbleu! But this is infernally imprudent!' he muttered under his breath.

      André-Louis smiled. 'Do not be alarmed, Sénard.' He laid his agent's card upon the table for the secretary's inspection.

      'What's this?' Sénard inspected the card in astonishment. 'Is it some of Roussel's handiwork?'

      'Oh, come, now. Are we so clumsy as to commit forgeries that could so easily be detected? You should know those signatures: Amar, Caillieux, Sévestre. Besides, your register will show that it was issued by this office.'

      Sénard scrutinized the card and returned it. His frown had deepened. 'But then ... I don't understand.'

      'My dear Sénard, have you never before known a man to act in two capacities?' He stared straight and significantly at the secretary, who was himself in the pay of both sides.

      'I see. Which is to say, I am in the dark. In what capacity do you appear at present?'

      'But as the agent of the Committee, of course. I have a duty to perform. A denunciation to make. A municipal officer, attached to the Lepelletier Section, Burlandeux by name, is engaged in corrupt practices. I have allowed him to believe me to be the agent of some foreign power, and he has accepted from me a bribe to hold his tongue.'

      'This will require proof,' said Sénard.

      'It has been provided. Half an hour ago I paid this scoundrel three hundred louis in assignats. If your agents act quickly, they may still find the money in his pocket. His station in life would not permit the honest possession of such a sum. Let him explain to the Committee how he comes by it.'

      Slowly Sénard nodded. 'Set the denunciation down in writing, citizen, and I will give instant orders.'

      An hour later, the Municipal Burlandeux, between two National Guards, faced the President of his section to explain his possession of three hundred louis. The wretched man, perceiving in how simple a gin he had been caught, raved and stormed, but said no word that did not further incriminate him. He listened to a moving address from the President upon civic virtue, the importance of purity in public functionaries, and the hideousness of venality which merited nothing less than death. Upon that he was marched off to Bicêtre, there to await his trial, with the assurance that the guillotine would follow. The bundle of assignats was forwarded to Sénard, and by the Committee of Public Safety returned to its agent, André-Louis Moreau, with a warm commendation of his skill in unmasking a scoundrel who abused the office with which the Nation had entrusted him.

      'Do you still think that Burlandeux will further trouble us?' André-Louis asked de Batz.

      De Batz, looking at him, shook his head. 'There are times, André, when you almost frighten me.'

      'That is not my aim. It is for you to put me in the way of frightening others.'

      That evening they set about the business of frightening the brothers Frey.

      CHAPTER XXIII

       THE BROTHERS FREY

       Table of Contents

      That frail beauty, Madame de Sainte-Amarande, and her still more beautiful daughter, had not yet ceased in these days of Prairial of the Year 2 to do the honours of that famous gaming-house known as 'The Fifty.' The place, if already beginning to decline from its former splendid exclusive character, was still the best patronized of all the public places within the precincts of the Palais Royal, and admission was still to be gained only by introduction.

      Thither in quest of Proly, who was known to frequent it assiduously, went the Baron de Batz that evening, accompanied by André-Louis. The Baron was well known there, and the doors opened readily to him and to his companion.

      They wandered through fairly well-tenanted rooms, where ponderously ornate furnishings and decorations were beginning to show signs of wear. A few elegant, courtly men with powdered heads, who a couple of years ago would have been of the only type to be met there, were now outnumbered by the raffish pleasure-seekers whom the revolution, with its doctrines of equality, had made free of every public place and every house of entertainment. The women, almost without exception, were the feminine counterpart and natural companions of these interlopers.

      De Batz studied the punters about a faro-table before passing into the farther room where roulette was being played and where the attendance was greater. There he espied the blond, graceful, pale-complexioned Proly, an inveterate gamester, seated at play. They were in luck, for behind his chair stood Junius Frey, sturdy and swarthy, a man in the early thirties, dressed with truly republican simplicity.

      De Batz pointed them out to his companion, and would have conducted him to them, but at that moment a moderately tall and very shapely girl in mauve and silver, with heavy golden tresses dressed high, and the clearest of blue eyes, in turning away from the table, came suddenly face to face with André-Louis. A frown was instantly effaced from between those fine brows. Amazement dawned on the comely face, and in a moment it was transfigured; the dainty lips parted to reveal her strong white teeth.

      'Scaramouche!' she cried, and was upon him, and had kissed him, there before all the world, in a reckless surrender to impulse.

      'Columbine!'


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