CHAPTER XXIX.
We must now follow the footsteps of Monsieur Gramont, who, having finished singing his air of “Malbrook,” put up his fishing rod, gave a look after the retreating form of Bill Saunders, and burst into a self-satisfied laugh.
“So,” said he to himself, “that big brute thinks he has deceived me, and that I am such a fool as to think him deaf and dumb. I knew he was an Englishman as well as his master Parbleu! I will have them all in a trap in a little while, and though the guillotine has gone out of fashion, I can still get them comfortable lodgings, and accomplish my projects at the same time. By-the-by, that girl is marvellously lovely—Mademoiselle de Tourville! Why he, an English naval officer, should pass for her brother is something curious. Take care, Monsieur Plessis, take care, you may be getting your head into an awkward place some of these days, with all your astuteness.”
Having fastened his rod together, he commenced crossing the rocks, through which the river found a passage, by a sort of path used by the country people. Having arrived at the other side where the river disappeared, and where a good bridle road led along the side of the stream to a stone bridge, about half a mile distant, he applied a whistle to his lips, and immediately a man, leading two saddle horses, came out from the thick plantation bordering one side of the road.
“Oh,” mentally exclaimed Monsieur Gramont, “he had patience to wait, though I told him I might not return this way at all,” and then he descended to the road.
The man holding the two horses was a somewhat remarkable looking personage. In years he was rather over than under fifty, with a thick grizzled beard, immense bushy eyebrows, with small deep sunk grey eyes, having a most sinister if not ferocious expression. He was of middle height, rather short than otherwise, and as he walked forward on the road he jerked his shoulders up and down in a most peculiar manner. He was attired similarly to Monsieur Gramont, only instead of a cap he wore a hat, pushed well down on his forehead.
“You had the patience to wait the chance of my return, Augustine,” said Monsieur Gramont, and he joined the man holding the horse.
“Ma foi, oui,” said the person named Augustine, in a gruff, harsh voice, “I might as well ruminate here two or three hours as do so at the château; so as I thought it possible you might return, I waited. Did you see them?”
“I did,” said Monsieur Gramont, “but I saw that my presence was anything but welcome, so I let them return to Coulancourt, without forcing my company on them; but let us mount—we can talk as we ride.”
Having mounted, they rode on at a slow pace towards the bridge.
“Had you any opportunity of testing my opinion respecting that Monsieur de Tourville? He is no more a Frenchman than I am a Dutchman,” questioned Monsieur Gramont’s companion.
“I am quite satisfied he is an Englishman,” returned Monsieur Gramont, “and so is that big fellow that wants to pass for a dummy. I tried the fellow with a sentence of English, holding my landing-net to him, and he started back as if something had exploded under his nose; he looked as if he could have swallowed me.”
“Curse him and his master to boot. If they had not been in the way, we should have performed our job in first-rate style, and got possession of all those papers. Besides, that ruffian when he put the landing-net over my head, pulled it back with such tremendous force against my throat, that I doubt if ever I shall recover the power of swallowing; every time I eat it jolts my whole body, and gives me great pain. I’ll cut his windpipe for that yet.”
“He certainly made a very ingenious weapon of his landing-net. I was watching the whole proceeding from the thicket on the river’s bank, and must say they managed to kill two of your comrades and make the rest take to flight in a masterly manner. The master is a very powerful young man.”
“Nevertheless,” returned the man named Augustine, savagely, “I should have had my knife in his heart, but for that villain with the landing-net. Curse him, he kicked me over afterwards, saying something in a strange language, which I afterwards recollected must be English. Why the fellow let me go I cannot imagine.”
“Neither can I,” replied De Gramont, “when I saw you run off, I turned back to the river, and picked up the stranger’s fishing-rod, and caught a fine trout, which was taking the world easy under the bank with a red hackle in his gills. I bagged several others, waiting till the owner came back for his rod, hoping to pick some kind of intelligence out of him in order to discover what he thought of the attack upon Monsieur Plessis and family; but that beautiful girl getting away and uttering the shriek she did ruined all—it reached the stranger’s ears.”
“That was a bungling affair of one of the men,” said Augustine; “she sprang out of the carriage at the opposite door, and would have got off into the wood, only I sent Jacques after her; the Englishman then came up and ran him through the body, though Jacques fired his pistol full in his face.”
“Well, it’s no use our talking this matter over again; the project failed and there’s an end of it. The only thing to be feared was Jean Plessis being able to discover any of the robbers, as they were considered; but to my surprise, he appeared very glad to hush up the affair, and let it be thought that the fellows were a remnant of the Chouans band, that committed so many outrages here two years ago; and the terribly disturbed state of all the roads and districts of France at this moment,with brigands and robbers of all kinds, caused the affair to be thought lightly of, and no search, except by the peasantry, was made after the fugitives.”
“No fear of their tracing them,” said Augustine, “my comrades understood, if the thing failed, they were to make their way into Brittany as fast as they could, so I had no apprehension on that account. I confess I thought it was all up when that villain of an Englishman had me in his grasp—as well try and get out of a vice. But why not at once denounce them as spies, and get them arrested and sent to Paris?”
“No,” returned Monsieur Gramont, “you are very shortsighted; you do not see the game I am playing. What good would it do me to lodge those two Englishmen in prison, and get Jean Plessis suspected? Would that pay off the mortgages on my property, regain me Coulancourt, or enable you to set up for yourself in another country? I have agreed to give you a certain sum, and get you safe out of France, for I tell you your party and Robespierre’s are crushed for ever. People are sick of blood, and jacobinism is at a fearful discount. Your throat would be cut with frantic joy if you were caught in Paris. The reaction was immediate and overpowering; the name of a jacobin is held in abhorrence. Your famous associates, Fouguier, Rimaud, and Carrier, died amidst the howlings and shrieks of a multitude; all they wanted was yourself to make up a handsome quartette.”
“You are cursed pleasant in your recollections,” growled Augustine. “You seem to forget that it was I who forged the papers and accusations that got your father the estate of Coulancourt.”
“Oh dear, no,” returned Monsieur Gramont, laughing. “My memory is very good. I had nothing to do in that affair at all; I was never a jacobin. I really cannot say I delight in those extremes. If I can accomplish my ends without blood it is far preferable. You see the escape of the ci-devant Duchesse de Coulancourt through the agency of Jean Plessis, and her reappearance in Paris, and fortunate trial just after the fall of Robespierre, when a violent reaction was taking place, lost me the property. Now I want to regain the estate, at all events, which, having once possessed, I consider justly to be mine; but I do not want to get Madame Coulancourt’s head off. If I prove that she is corresponding with England, where her daughter is, and that she and Jean Plessis, are seeking to secretly dispose of her property and transport the produce to Hamburg, I shall gain my ends. I have my spies on her continually, and lately I have reason to suspect that a young girl said to be very beautiful, and who is constantly visiting her, whom she has been seen to embrace with much affection, is her daughter, smuggled intoFrance some way or other. My next letters from Paris will be important.”
There was a short silence, after which Monsieur Gramont’s companion said—
“Are you certain that this very beautiful girl with Jean Plessis, calling herself Tourville, is really a Mademoiselle Tourville, and this Englishman passing for her brother is not her lover?”
“Of that I am quite certain; I saw and heard enough when I came suddenly upon them in the Hermit’s Grotto. Lovers they are, but as to her being Mademoiselle Tourville or not I cannot say. I have ordered François Perrin to proceed to the château and make a visit of inspection without hinting any suspicion. He will be with me to-night to report.”
“Well, it strikes me,” said Augustine, “that this Mademoiselle de Tourville is Madame Coulancourt’s daughter, sent from Paris, fearing she might be suspected.”
Monsieur Gramont looked at his companion, saying—
“You have been receiving private communications from Paris, during your absence?”
“I have; and desperate as you think the cause of the jacobins, I have another idea.”
“And who is your correspondent?” demanded Monsieur Gramont, somewhat authoritatively.
“A man who will soon revive the power of the terrorists (another name for jacobins)—Babouf, who is now styled the tribune of the people; he will restore the ‘true, pure, and absolute democracy.’”
“Bah!” muttered Monsieur Gramont. “I tell you what, Augustine Vadier, you will bring your head under the axe; to believe or think that a rascally scribbler of a paltry paper, who reproduces the discarded theories of that little villain Muret, will again overturn the present consolidated form of government, under which our armies are achieving the most triumphant success! Bah! It is the army that will govern by and by.”
“By heaven, I do believe you are no better than an aristocrat at heart—a loyalist!” said Augustine Vadier, savagely.
“No doubt in the world of it,” returned Monsieur Gramont, quite coolly, “and always was; your republican principles and your ideas of liberty are all fudge. However, here we are, drop your political career, or you will lose your head. I never, out of all those I have seen, ever knew a man’s carcase worth a sous without a head. So keep yours, follow my counsel, and I’ll stick to my bargain, though you botched the beginning.”
So saying Monsieur Gramont rode into the court-yard at the back of his château, an edifice of considerable importanceat one time, but at this period greatly out of repair, and sadly neglected. A domestic came to take the horses, and then followed Monsieur Gramont into the house, looking both gloomy and discontented.
Our readers will recollect that in one of the chapters we mentioned that Jean Plessis stated to our hero that he firmly believed that the casket Madame Coulancourt confided to his care was plundered of its contents by a galley slave named Augustine Vadier, who afterwards played a very conspicuous part among the monsters of the revolution.
That Augustine Vadier and the Augustine Vadier above-mentioned are one and the same person, and it will be now necessary to lay before our readers an account of his connection with Monsieur Gramont.
Being committed to the galleys for his crimes, he was one of the two convicts left on board the hulk where our hero and Mabel passed so many hours, after escaping from the mob in the streets of Toulon. Augustine Vadier was in communication with the other slaves, and with some of the most vicious of the Toulon Republicans, and their emancipation was hourly expected. This man perceived the extreme care William Thornton bestowed upon the parcel he carried under his arm, and saw him deposit it at the foot of the berth in which Mabel reposed. His first intention was to possess himself of it altogether; but as he could not get out of the dock till the insurrection emancipated himself and companions, he resolved to have a look at it, and, watching his opportunity, he extracted the casket from the berth, and getting into a remote part of the hulk took off the cover. What was his astonishment when he recognised the casket itself as one sold by him several years back to the Duchess de Coulancourt! and quite aware of its construction, in ten minutes, with a thin saw made from a watch spring, and one or two other tools he had hidden, he took out the bottom and all the contents, devouring with greedy eyes the valuable jewels and money it contained. Cutting up some pieces of lead he wrapped them in brown paper, and filling the spaces of the casket with shavings he restored the bottom, and putting the cover on, replaced it in the berth. Augustine Verdier’s first impulse was to destroy the papers, but on looking at them he saw reason to think they might be of value hereafter.
On the galley slaves regaining their freedom, Vadier removed his plunder, and as he gained a position amongst the monsters brought into existence by the times, he placed the papers in greater security. Excelling in ingenuity, devilish in temper and disposition, he soon made himself notorious, and having the command of money from the sale of his jewels and gold, he soon became closely associated with the leaders of the jacobin mob.Amongst the most violent and arrogant leaders of the party he joined was the elder Gramont, a man of high family but poor and eager for aggrandizement, who thought to gain his ends by siding with the ferocious and bloodthirsty followers of Marat, and afterwards with Robespierre.
Gramont and Vadier became amazingly friendly. In the course of time Gramont stated that he was connected by ties of blood with the ci-devant Duke de Coulancourt, that he aimed at getting into his hands the estates confiscated; and that if Vadier, who was a most accomplished forger, would aid him, he would make it well worth his while, and enrich him; for Vadier’s extravagance equalled his love of blood. Struck with this proposal Vadier recollected the papers he had secreted in Toulon, and for them he went. Between them they forged several letters and a deed, purporting to annul the will the duke made, leaving his property to his duchess. In such a time of anarchy, confusion, and horror, they contrived to gain their ends, and the confiscated property of the Coulancourts was bestowed upon Monsieur Gramont; but the overthrow of Robespierre and his execution, and the destruction of all his partisans that could be caught, some time after, put Monsieur Gramont and Augustine Vadier to flight. Vadier was so execrated that he dared not shew himself any where near Paris; he contrived to get into Brittany, and joined the brigands, as they were then styled. A party he belonged to were forced to fly into Normandy; there he heard of Monsieur Gramont’s son being still in possession of his father’s property near Coulancourt; and as the son was well known to him, and knew of the manner in which he served his father, he discovered himself to him, and he gave him an asylum in his château. The pursuit after the partisans of Robespierre having relaxed, many had returned to Paris to foment fresh disturbances if they could; but Augustine Vadier, though he kept up a correspondence with several persons in the capital, was yet afraid to show himself.
Bertrand Gramont had just retired from the army, and through the interest of a near connection, then in power with the party governing France, was made maire of the arrondissement in which Coulancourt was situated. He was immensely in debt, his only remaining estate being mortgaged to the last acre, and, in fact, he was living on the emoluments of his office. Totally unprincipled, caring not a straw about the political state of the country, or minding much whether France became a republic or flourished under a monarchical government, though indeed he inclined to the latter, his only object was self-aggrandizement, and his grand project to recover Coulancourt. Augustine Vadier had irrevocably lost the papers he once possessed, for in his flight from Paris he lost everything. Bertrand Gramontkept up a strict espionage upon Madame Coulancourt, his aim being to excite suspicion of her conduct, so that her estate of Coulancourt might be confiscated, he being assured that if that event ever occurred he should be able to get reinstated in the property.
With Augustine Vadier he planned the robbery of Jean Plessis, thinking to gain possession of important papers relative to the estate, and also some evidence of the intendant’s proceedings respecting other property belonging to Madame Coulancourt.
Vadier brought into Normandy some eight or ten of his old associates, and kept them concealed till an opportunity should occur. Their vile projects were, however, defeated by the timely appearance of Lieutenant Thornton and Bill Saunders. Bertram Gramont was watching the whole proceeding, bitterly cursing the interference of our hero. In conversing with him afterwards respecting the fishing-rod he had picked up, his suspicions were excited by something in the manner and appearance of Lieutenant Thornton. He found no fault exactly with his French, for he spoke the language exceedingly well; but to a very keen observer like Bertram Gramont a trifle will lead to suspicion.
Suspicion once aroused, caused reflection, and not knowing any one in the vicinity of the name of De Tourville, he began making inquiries before he paid his promised visit to Coulancourt.
Vadier, who, at the time of the attack upon Jean Plessis, was without beard or whiskers, lay hid in Monsieur Gramont’s château, till they grew, and he otherwise disguised himself. He declared to Bertram Gramont that the man who nearly choked him with the landing-net was positively an Englishman, for he had spoken English to him. He was sure it was English.
Monsieur Gramont thought this was very curious, so he rode over to Havre, and there he heard the full particulars of the attempt upon the Vengeance, and of her seizure afterwards by an English officer of the Diamond frigate and one man, and their taking her to sea; of her being burned, and then run ashore near or under Lyon Point; but what became of the English officer and his man, no one could say. Strongly desirous of finding some clue to the mystery, Bertram Gramont rode to the place where Captain Gaudet was repairing and refitting the Vengeance. He saw Pierre Gaudet, and questioned him concerning the naval officer and his man that took the privateer.
Captain Gaudet readily enough told him all he knew: that it was the same officer who had shot his brother-in-law, and took the Bon-Citoyen schooner; but he could not say whatbecame of him and his companion. He said, very likely that they were drowned; but Monsieur Gramont thought that it was not probable. He made the captain describe the two men minutely, and from his description he felt almost satisfied that Monsieur de Tourville and his servant, Pierre Bompart, were the English officer and his man. He at once set François Perrin, Sergeant of the Inspecting Gendarmes, to make all kind of inquiries, cautiously, so as not to excite suspicion. So well did the sergeant manage it, that he found out that two tall men, dressed as sailors, supposed to be French sailors, had crossed the sands to the village of Caux, on the morning after the burning wreck came ashore, and had been observed to enter the village, but were not seen after. More the sergeant could not learn; however, that was enough for Bertram Gramont. Giving the sergeant a handsome present, he desired him to remain quiet for awhile.
Bertram Gramont now felt satisfied he knew who Monsieur de Tourville was; but that by no means cleared up all the mystery of the affair to him. He was convinced there was a great deal more to be found out. He did not care about the arrest of the Englishmen; the finding them domiciled in Coulancourt, under the names of De Tourville and Bompart, was mysterious; but ten times more so when a Mademoiselle de Tourville arrived. He set a careful spy upon the movements of the inhabitants of Coulancourt; and as a guide, he ordered Sergeant Perrin to pay a visit to Dame Moret’s, and also to the château; to excite no suspicion, but merely to perform his actual duty, inquiring the names, looking at their papers, &c., and then to come to him.
The spy brought him word that a party was going to the Hermit’s Grotto on the following day; so, with Vadier, now much transmogrified by beard and whiskers and false eyebrows, he rode to the place, left Vadier with the horses, and crossed the rocks.
Our readers know the result; he learned enough to prove to him that Monsieur de Tourville was the lover, not the brother, of the beautiful girl who bore the same name. On returning home that day, he sent off a messenger to Paris with a letter, and directions to bring back an answer; this done, he waited the arrival of Sergeant Perrin.