Castles in the Air | Page 8

It was by the merest accident that I
heard of you. I have been to the police; they cannot--will not--act
without I furnish them with certain information which it is not in my

power to give them. Then when I was half distraught with despair, a
kindly agent there spoke to me of you. He said that you were attached
to the police as a voluntary agent, and that they sometimes put work in
your way which did not happen to be within their own scope. He also
said that sometimes you were successful."
"Nearly always, Mademoiselle," I broke in firmly and with much
dignity. "Once more I beg of you to tell me in what way I may have the
honour to serve you."
"It is not for herself, Monsieur," here interposed M. Arthur, whilst a
blush suffused Mlle. Geoffroy's lovely face, "that my sister desires to
consult you, but for her fiancé M. de Marsan, who is very ill indeed,
hovering, in fact, between life and death. He could not come in person.
The matter is one that demands the most profound secrecy."
"You may rely on my discretion, Monsieur," I murmured, without
showing, I flatter myself, the slightest trace of that astonishment which,
at mention of M. de Marsan's name, had nearly rendered me speechless.
"M. de Marsan came to see me in utmost distress, Monsieur," resumed
the lovely creature. "He had no one in whom he could--or rather
dared--confide. He is in the Chancellerie for Foreign Affairs. His uncle
M. de Talleyrand thinks a great deal of him and often entrusts him with
very delicate work. This morning he gave M. de Marsan a valuable
paper to copy--a paper, Monsieur, the importance of which it were
impossible to overestimate. The very safety of this country, the honour
of our King, are involved in it. I cannot tell you its exact contents, and
it is because I would not tell more about it to the police that they would
not help me in any way, and referred me to you. How could they, said
the chief Commissary to me, run after a document the contents of
which they did not even know? But you will be satisfied with what I
have told you, will you not, my dear M. Ratichon?" she continued, with
a pathetic quiver in her voice and a look of appeal in her eyes which St.
Anthony himself could not have resisted, "and help me to regain
possession of that paper, the final loss of which would cost M. de
Marsan his life."

To say that my feeling of elation of a while ago had turned to one of
supreme beatitude would be to put it very mildly indeed. To think that
here was this lovely being in tears before me, and that it lay in my
power to dry those tears with a word and to bring a smile round those
perfect lips, literally made my mouth water in anticipation--for I am
sure that you will have guessed, just as I did in a moment, that the
valuable document of which this adorable being was speaking, was
snugly hidden away under the flooring of my room in Passy. I hated
that unknown de Marsan. I hated this Arthur who leaned so familiarly
over her chair, but I had the power to render her a service beside which
their lesser claims on her regard would pale.
However, I am not the man to act on impulse, even at a moment like
this. I wanted to think the whole matter over first, and . . . well . . . I
had made up my mind to demand five thousand francs when I handed
the document over to my first client to-morrow morning. At any rate,
for the moment I acted--if I may say so--with great circumspection and
dignity.
"I must presume, Mademoiselle," I said in my most business-like
manner, "that the document you speak of has been stolen."
"Stolen, Monsieur," she assented whilst the tears once more gathered in
her eyes, "and M. de Marsan now lies at death's door with a terrible
attack of brain fever, brought on by shock when he discovered the
loss."
"How and when was it stolen?" I asked.
"Some time during the morning," she replied. "M. de Talleyrand gave
the document to M. de Marsan at nine o'clock, telling him that he
wanted the copy by midday. M. de Marsan set to work at once,
laboured uninterruptedly until about eleven o'clock, when a loud
altercation, followed by cries of 'Murder!' and of 'Help!' and proceeding
from the corridor outside his door, caused him to run out of the room in
order to see what was happening. The altercation turned out to be
between two men who had pushed their way