The Clique of Gold | Page 2

lodgings!
However this may have been, the house had a bad reputation; and the
lodgers had to bear the consequences. Not one of them would have
been trusted with a dollar's worth of goods in any of the neighboring
shops. No one, however, stood, rightly or wrongly, in as bad repute as
the doorkeeper, or concierge, who lived in a little hole near the great
double entrance-door, and watched over the safety of the whole house.
Master Chevassat and his wife were severely "cut" by their colleagues
of adjoining houses; and the most atrocious stories were told of both
husband and wife.

Master Chevassat was reputed to be well off; but the story went that he
lent out money, and did not hesitate to charge a hundred per cent a
month. He acted, besides, it was said, as agent for two of his
tenants,--the broker, and the dealer in second-hand goods, and
undertook the executions, when poor debtors were unable to pay. Mrs.
Chevassat, however, had even graver charges to bear. People said she
would do anything for money, and had aided and encouraged many a
poor girl in the house in her evil career.
It was also asserted that the estimable couple had formerly lived in the
fashionable Faubourg St. Honore, but had been compelled to leave
there on account of several ugly occurrences. They were, finally,
reported to have a son called Justin, a handsome fellow, thirty-five
years old, who lived in the best society, and whom they nearly
worshipped; while he was ashamed of them, and despised them,
although he came often at night to ask them for money. No one, it must,
however, be confessed, had ever seen this son; and no one knew him.
The two Chevassats shrugged their shoulders, and said it would be
absurd if they should trouble themselves about public opinion, as long
as their consciences were clear, and they owed nobody anything.
Towards the end of last December, however, on a Saturday afternoon,
towards five o'clock, husband and wife were just sitting down to dinner,
when the dealer in old clothes, Papa Ravinet, rushed like a tempest into
their room.
He was a man of middle size, clean shaven, with small, bright,
yellowish eyes, which shone with restless eagerness from under thick,
bushy brows. Although he had lived for years in Paris, he was dressed
like a man from the country, wearing a flowered silk vest, and a long
frock-coat with an immense collar.
"Quick, Chevassat!" he cried, with a voice full of trouble. "Take your
lamp, and follow me; an accident has happened upstairs."
He was so seriously disturbed, although generally very calm and cool,
that the two Chevassats were thoroughly frightened.
"An accident!" exclaimed the woman; "that was all that was wanting.
But pray, what has happened, dear M. Ravinet?"
"How do I know? This very moment, as I was just coming out of my
room, I thought I heard the death-rattle of a dying person. It was in the
fifth story. Of course I ran up a few steps, I listened. All was silent. I

went down again, thinking I had been mistaken; and at once I heard
again a sighing, a sobbing--I can't tell you exactly what; but it sounded
exactly like the last sigh of a person in agony, and at the point of
death."
"And then?"
"Then I ran down to tell you, and ask you to come up. I am not sure,
you understand; but I think I could swear it was the voice of Miss
Henrietta,--that pretty young girl who lives up there. Well, are you
coming?"
But they did not stir.
"Miss Henrietta is not in her room," said Mrs. Chevassat coldly. "She
went out just now, and told me she would not be back till nine o'clock.
My dear M. Ravinet, you must have been mistaken; you had a ringing
in your ears, or"--
"No, I am sure I was not mistaken! But never mind; we must see what
it is."
During this conversation, the door of the room had been open; and
several of the lodgers, hearing the voice of the merchant and the
exclamations of the woman as they crossed the hall, had stopped and
listened.
"Yes, we must see what it is," they repeated.
Master Chevassat dared no longer oppose the general desire so
peremptorily expressed,--
"Let us go then, since you will have it /so/," he sighed.
And, taking up his lamp, he began to ascend the stairs, followed by the
merchant, his wife, and five or six other persons.
The steps of all these people were heard all over the house; and from
story to story the lodgers opened their doors to see what was going on.
And, when they heard that something was likely to happen, they