The Clique of Gold | Page 5

man lived, to tell the truth, in the same rooms in which the thousand and one things he was continually buying were piled up in vast heaps. There was no fixed place for his bed even. He slept where he could, or, rather, wherever an accidental sale had cleared a space for the time,--one night in a costly bed of the days of Louis XIV., and the next night on a lounge that he would have sold for a few francs. Just now he occupied a little closet not more than three- quarters full; and here he asked the concierge to enter.
He poured some brandy into two small wineglasses, put a teakettle on the fire, and sank into an arm-chair; then he said,--
"Well, M. Chevassat, what a terrible thing this is!"
His visitor had been well drilled by his wife, and said neither yes nor no; but the old merchant was a man of experience, and knew how to loosen his tongue.
"The most disagreeable thing about it," he said with an absent air, "is, that the doctor will report the matter to the police, and there will be an investigation."
Master Chevassat nearly dropped his glass.
"What? The police in the house? Well, good-by, then, to our lodgers; we are lost. Why did that stupid girl want to die, I wonder! But no doubt you are mistaken, my dear sir."
"No, I am not. But you go too fast. They will simply ask you who that girl is, how she supports herself, and where she lived before she came here."
"That is exactly what I cannot tell."
The dealer in old clothes seemed to be amazed; he frowned and said,--
"Halloo! that makes matters worse. How came it about that Miss Henrietta had rooms in your house?"
The concierge was evidently ill at ease; something was troubling him sorely.
"Oh! that is as clear as sunlight," he replied; "and, if you wish it, I'll tell you the story; you will see there is no harm done."
"Well, let us hear."
"Well, then, it was about a year ago this very day, when a gentleman came in, well dressed, an eyeglass stuck in his eye, impudent like a hangman's assistant, in fact a thoroughly fashionable young man. He said he had seen the notice that there was a room for rent up stairs, and wanted to see it. Of course I told him it was a wretched garret, unfit for people like him; but he insisted, and /I/ took him up."
"To the room in which Miss Henrietta is now staying?"
"Exactly. I thought he would be disgusted; but no. He looked out of the window, tried the door if it would shut, examined the partition- wall, and at last he said, 'This suits me; I take the room.' And thereupon he hands me a twenty-franc piece to make it a bargain. I was amazed."
If M. Ravinet felt any interest in the story, he took pains not to show it; for his eyes wandered to and fro as if his thoughts were elsewhere, and he was heartily tired of the tedious account.
"And who is that fashionable young man?" he asked.
"Ah! that is more than I know, except that his name is Maxime."
That name made the old merchant jump as if a shower-bath had suddenly fallen upon his head. He changed color; and his small yellowish eyes had a strange look in them.
But he recovered promptly, so promptly, that his visitor saw nothing; and then he said in a tone of indifference,--
"The young man did not give you his family name?"
"No."
"But ought you not to have inquired?"
"Ah, there is the trouble! I did not do it."
Gradually, and by a great effort, Master Chevassat began to master his embarrassment. It looked as if he were preparing himself for the assault, and to get ready for the police-officer.
"I know it was wrong," he continued; "but you would not have acted differently in my place, my dear sir, I am sure. Just think! My room belonged to M. Maxime, for I had his money in my pocket. I asked him politely where he lived, and if there was any furniture to come. I caught it nicely. He laughed me in the face, and did not even let me finish my question. 'Do I look,' he said, 'like a man who lives in a place like this?' And when he saw I was puzzled, he went on to tell me that he took the room for a young person from the country, in whom he took an interest, and that the contract and the receipts for rent must all be made out in the name of Miss Henrietta. That was clear enough, wasn't it? Still it was my duty to know who Miss Henrietta was; so I asked him civilly. But he got angry, and told me that was