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At what precise moment the first dart
of a horrible suspicion entered her heart Aurore did not know.
All she realized was that an awful danger threatened her husband
at the hands of her father.
The horror of such a thing!
She knew, as did everyone these days, that one denunciation,
even if it came from an irresponsible person, was often sufficient
to bring about the arrest of a fellow creature - arrest which
almost invariably was the precursor of death! And with her mind
fixed upon this fact she recalled her father's wild rambling words:
"I'll rid you of him.... I know what to do.... Quite simple....
That is what I must do...."
Quite simple!
Now Aurore's mind worked more quickly. Something had to be done,
and done at once. But what? Firstly, where was the unfortunate
madman now? Had he already set out on his proposed trail of treachery
and crime? Aurore called to Jeannette and to Pierre. She questioned
them and questioned them. Where was Monseigneur? They did not
know. Where did he go when he went out aimlessly like this? Just
about the streets, sometimes in one direction, sometimes in another.
He was fond of the river bank. The river! Great God in heaven!
For one moment Aurore caught herself almost hoping that he had
courted the river in a mad desire to put an end to all his misery.
Almost hoping! Heavens above! was she going mad, too? She was,
unless she could get a more definite idea of whither her father
had gone. But for the moment, since they knew nothing, Pierre
and Jeannette must go back to their work. She, Aurore, wished
to be left alone to think, to find out something - something!
She looked about her in the small sunlit parlour, feeling helpless
and her soul in darkness. She beat her hands together in a wild
longing for inspiration. What about money? Had he taken any with
him? Aurore knew where he kept it - in the drawer of the small
escritoire. She had often seen him take out a livre or two to
give to Jeannette. Now she went to look. The pocketbook that was
usually in the drawer was no longer there. There were two packets
instead. One was addressed to Pierre and obviously contained money,
paper and coins. The other was addressed "To my little Aurore."
She opened it. There was a letter written in his familiar careful
hand.
My Darling Little One [it said]:
I promised you that I would rid you of the inhuman monster
who has blighted your young life, and I am going to do it. By
the time you get this I shall be on my way to Paris. That arch-rogue
Talon, who is as useful fortunately as he is servile, has made
all necessary arrangements. His wife has relatives in Paris, and
I shall stay with them. For the first time in my life I shall
accept hospitality in a plebeian house, but I have no alternative.
What I want to do can only be done in Paris, but there it can
be done quickly. Do not try and find out what I am about to do
or how. Wait patiently for a further letter from me. Talon will
bring it you. I may be caught in my own toils, but I care not
so long as I have made you happy and free.
Your devoted Father.
Aurore read the terrible lucubration until the end. Then she refolded the letter and slipped it in the bosom of her gown. She had no doubt now as to what she meant to do, but she wouldn't leave anything to chance. So she hunted through the drawer again and through the whole of the escritoire for some written trace of Hector Talon, that awful, miserable, obsequious Talon! So it was he who was at the bottom of this abominable treachery! Aurore hunted for a letter, a sign of him, as a careful gardener would hunt for the trail of the slug that had impaired his plants. But she found nothing. Talon was a man - no, a worm - who worked underground in the darkness and left no trace of his slimy way.
Then Aurore once more questioned Jeannette and Pierre. Had they
seen - did they know anything of Hector Talon? And she wrung the
truth out of them, poor miserable wretches! Talon had been in
Nevers two days. He had visited Monseigneur. He had bribed them
to say nothing to Mademoiselle of these visits. He had been here
early this morning, and he and Monseigneur then went out together,
Talon carrying a small valise which Pierre had packed with a few
necessities at Monseigneur's orders.
And then Aurore saw red. She felt like a tigress in a fury, would
gladly with her two feeble hands have seized those two fools by
the throat. They had taken money, money to hold their tongue,
while Monseigneur le Duc de Marigny, who bore one of the greatest
names in France, and was own cousin to her martyred king, accomplished
the vilest act of treachery that had ever disgraced a canaille.
But what was the good of fury, what
the good of vituperations, now that the crime was on the point
of accomplishment? One fact she did wring out of the trembling
lips of Pierre. Lucile Talon's relatives lived in No. 67 of the
Rue St. Honoré. Well, that, at any rate, was something.
Aurore knew now where she could find her father.
She was half-dazed when she reached the Mignets' house. Without
circumlocution, straight to the point, she told them what had
happened.
"I must go to Paris," she concluded calmly, "at
once. How can I do it?"
"My dear child," the old lady protested, "you
cannot go to Paris like this, all in a moment."
"I have my papers, money, everything," she said. "Help
me to find a conveyance, as the diligence does not leave till
next week."
"But what can you do, child?"
"Warn my husband before it is too late."
To every protest, every objection she gave the same reply: "I
must go to my husband before it is too late."
And then she said at last, "If you will not help me I will
find a way somehow, but I am going before the day is out."
Help her? Of course they would help her! Were they not the kindest
people on God's earth, and was not André Vallon the beloved
friend of their heart? Doctor Mignet would, of course, accompany
Aurore as far as Paris, and while she went to put a few things
together he set out to find coach and horses which would take
them as far as Auxerre, where they could pick up another conveyance
to take them on to Melun and to Paris. That was probably the route
chosen by Talon for Monseigneur, and Aurore would be close on
her father's heels.
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Chapter T
