The Châtelet Apprentice (33 page)

As he turned back towards the drawing room, Nicolas
noticed amidst the overturned furniture a motionless, shapeless mass on the floor. Taking a candlestick and lighting it, he went further into the room. The mirrors that faced one another showed countless reflections of his image. He cautiously approached the body huddled up under its veils, felt it with the tip of his sword and then nudged it with his foot. The corpse rolled over to reveal Mauval's face. His green eyes were now staring vacantly, and beneath its grotesque coating of make-up his devilish face looked angelic once more.

Though emptied of feeling, the eyes seemed to gaze accusingly at Nicolas who could not bear their stare; he closed them. He observed the precision of his sword-stroke, which was straight to the heart. And yet only chance had guided his hand. It was at this moment that he realised he had killed a man. All the tension of the struggle dissolved and an immense weariness came over him. Admittedly all he had done was defend his own life but nothing, no possible argument, could dispel the feeling – the remorse even – of having taken the life of a fellow human being, and he knew already that this feeling would haunt him for ever. At the same time he knew that from then on he would have to learn to live with the pain and the memory of it.

The young man tried to pull himself together and set off in search of Bourdeau. At the end of the hallway a door opened onto a pantry extended by a closet that led into the garden. He came across Bourdeau who was waiting there, looking anxious.

‘Good God, Monsieur, you seem very pale. So I was right to worry. What happened to you?'

‘Oh! Bourdeau, I'm so pleased to see you …'

‘I can see that. You look like a ghost, not that I've actually ever seen one. You've been a very long time.'

‘I killed Mauval.'

Bourdeau made him sit down on the stone sill at the base of the house.

‘But you're wounded! Your coat's torn and you're bleeding.'

Nicolas felt the pain just as the inspector pointed out his wound.

‘It's nothing. Just a scratch.'

He then launched into a graphic account of his fight with Mauval. Bourdeau nodded his head as usual and patted him on the shoulder.

‘You've no reason to blame yourself. It was him or you. That's one blackguard less. You'll get used to this sort of encounter. On two occasions I've had to defend myself in similar circumstances.'

They went back into the house. Nicolas led the inspector into the main drawing room. Bourdeau commented admiringly on the precision and cleanness of the sword-stroke, to Nicolas's considerable embarrassment. After the inspector had searched him, they took down one half of the stage curtain from the little theatre and threw it over Mauval's body. In addition to a few
louis d'or
and a snuffbox decorated with a miniature of Louise Lardin, they found an opened note. The sealing wax had been broken. In Nicolas's own handwriting it bore the sentence: ‘The salmon is on the riverbank', which Nicolas immediately recognised. It was the password he had given La Paulet if ever she needed to contact him discreetly. On a scrap of paper they also found Monsieur de Noblecourt's address. As Bourdeau remarked, here was proof that the man clearly had evil intent towards Nicolas.

Remembering the main purpose of their raid on the Dauphin
Couronné, they rushed up to the second floor. Of all the doors leading off the corridor, only one resisted their efforts to open it. In response to their banging Nicolas could hear muffled wails. Bourdeau moved his companion aside, took a tiny, carefully crafted metal rod out of his pocket and inserted it into the lock. After a few unsuccessful attempts he managed to loosen the bolt. Lying bound and gagged on two straw mattresses on the floor were La Paulet and Marie Lardin.

When they had freed them from their bonds, Marie began to sob uncontrollably, like a child. La Paulet, her broad snub-nosed face now bright red, seemed to be choking, and her ample bosom was heaving as she cried out plaintively. Eventually she managed a few faltering steps, looking down at her swollen feet.

‘Oh! Monsieur, we are so grateful to you.'

Her face took on a frightened look and she glanced anxiously around her.

‘Don't worry, Madame,' said Nicolas, who had noticed her expression. ‘But you have some explaining to do. You are party to a crime. This young woman has been abducted, forcibly taken to your establishment, kept locked up in appalling conditions and threatened with being sold into a life of infamy. For the least of these crimes, Madame, you could be branded with a fleur-
delis
on the steps of the law courts and imprisoned for life. So you see how important it is for you to be honest. Tell the truth and it will be taken into account, I give you my word.'

‘Monsieur,' replied La Paulet, taking his hand and squeezing it repeatedly, ‘I know you're a gentleman. Have pity on a poor woman forced against her will to take in this poor little lamb.'

She looked towards the corridor for a second time.

‘That monster did the whole thing.'

‘What monster?'

‘That devil Mauval. I'm just the poor supplier. I'm good to my girls. I'm well established and have a quality clientele. I've always paid my dues to the police. And if there is illegal gaming it's with Commissioner Camusot's blessing. I lost my temper the last time you came. But, my dear young man, you pushed me to the limit. Just ask Mademoiselle how I defended her tooth and nail when I discovered she was Commissioner Lardin's daughter. I wouldn't hear of it. And then that Mauval beat up the errand boy to steal my message from him. He feared you might come and wanted to set a trap for you. I was adamant that I'd have nothing to do with it, and then he hit me …'

She showed him her bruised cheek.

‘Then he threw me in here, just as you found me. If that's not proof enough of my innocence, what is?'

‘It's only proof that you were afraid of things going too far,' Nicolas remarked curtly.

Between sobs Marie confirmed part of what La Paulet had said. They were interrupted by a great commotion. A sudden fear overcame the madam. After whispering something in Nicolas's ear, Bourdeau went downstairs. The reinforcements they had expected had arrived at last. The inspector had asked his superior to detain the two women while Mauval's body was being taken away. It was better for the moment to keep his death secret. When La Paulet enquired about his would-be assassin, Nicolas remained evasive. He was convinced that she had told him almost all she knew as honestly as she could. La Satin was right, she wasn't an evil woman, even if her trade put her on dangerously familiar terms with the world of crime.

The three of them, he and the two women, stayed in the room
without saying a word. Nicolas did not want to question Marie in front of someone else. After a considerable time Bourdeau came back and signalled to Nicolas that all was clear. They left the Dauphin Couronné, Bourdeau in one carriage with La Paulet, and Nicolas in another with Marie. The young woman had calmed down, although she let out the occasional long sigh. She looked at Nicolas admiringly.

‘Please forgive me, Mademoiselle, but I must ask you a few questions.'

‘Please allow me first to thank you, Nicolas. I realise that the girl passed on my message …'

She gave him a sidelong glance.

‘Do you know her well? Have you known her long?'

Now he was the one under interrogation … He hesitated for a moment, but did not think it right to hide the truth.

‘She's a very good friend and I've known her a long time.' Marie looked at him with contempt.

‘So you're just like the rest of them … And with a woman of easy virtue!'

Nicolas exploded.

‘Mademoiselle, that's enough! Here you are, free once more. I don't know whether you realise what you've escaped, but there's one thing I'm sure of: in some circumstances it's better to rely on certain women of easy virtue than on respectable ladies. And the least you can do when you owe them your safety is to be grateful that they felt pity and that they kept their word. Would you now kindly answer my questions and tell me how you came to be at La Paulet's?'

‘I don't know, Monsieur,' replied the young woman, who had stopped calling him Nicolas. ‘I found myself locked up in
that room, where you found me. I was completely dazed, ill, my head was hurting. La Paulet wanted to persuade me to involve myself in the vilest of trades. Then this girl came to convince me. As I was crying she felt sorry for me and I tried to bribe her. I had nothing to lose. Either she would do what I asked or she would refuse, in which case I'd hardly be any worse off.'

‘Do you have any idea on which day you were abducted?'

‘My memories are muddled. I believe it was Wednesday of last week. I think my stepmother had overheard our
conversation
that evening when I tried to put you on your guard, if you remember, Monsieur.'

‘I remember very well. Another thing: did your father at any time send you a message?' She responded indignantly.

‘You've been searching my room. What right had you to do that?'

‘Not only your room, the whole house. But I assume from your reaction that you did indeed receive something. This is an important detail. Answer me.'

‘A note whose meaning I didn't understand that won't make any sense to you. He slipped it into my hand the last time I saw him, the day before he disappeared. Do you have any news of my father?'

‘Do you remember the words of that message?'

‘It was something to do with what was owing to the King. I don't know what it was referring to. My father simply urged me to keep this piece of paper safe. I put it in a drawer and forgot about it. But why this barrage of questions, Monsieur? What about my father?'

Nicolas had the impression she was about to throw a tantrum,
like a child. He felt sorry for her. There was no reason to hide the truth from her. It was hardly as if she were a suspect and two witnesses, La Satin and La Paulet, could confirm her account.

‘Mademoiselle, you must be brave.'

‘Brave?' she said, sitting up. ‘You don't mean …'

‘I deeply regret having to inform you that your father is dead.'

She bit her fist so as not to scream.

‘It's Descart! It's him! I told you. She made him do it. My God, what will become of me?'

‘How do you know it was murder?'

‘She talked about it, she did, with him.'

The young woman started crying again. Nicolas handed her his handkerchief and let her calm down.

‘You're wrong. Descart is dead too, murdered, like your father.'

‘So it's Dr Semacgus.'

‘Why do you think it's him?'

‘It has to be one of my stepmother's lovers. The doctor always gave in to her.'

‘Or your stepmother herself.'

‘She's far too crafty to compromise herself.'

She continued to sob and he did not know how to calm her. He gently wrapped his frock coat around her. She slumped onto his shoulder. He did not dare move and this was how they remained until they reached the Châtelet.

Nicolas gave Bourdeau the task of taking down La Paulet's and Marie's statements. The brothel-keeper of the Dauphin
Couronné was to be kept in solitary confinement until the case could come before a magistrate, according to the normal procedure. La Satin could return home providing she kept quiet about the affair. As for Marie Lardin, she would be taken to a convent and would stay there until the end of the investigation. It was not appropriate for her to go back to the house in Rue des Blancs-Manteaux on her own until the circumstances of her father's murder were known and her stepmother was no longer under suspicion.

Bourdeau offered to take her to the Convent of the English Ladies
1
in Faubourg Saint-Antoine where he knew the Mother Superior. He questioned his chief about what he was planning to do. Nicolas smiled and replied with a hint of irony that he was going back home full of good intentions and would meditate on the insignificance of life while staring up at the ceiling. In any case it was getting late and night was falling. He needed to tend to his wounds, he had to find out how Monsieur de Noblecourt was, and he felt very hungry.

Nicolas's casualness was only a pretence, but he quite enjoyed keeping Bourdeau guessing. On his way to Rue Montmartre he went over the main stages of his investigation. The connection between certain facts still eluded him. Despite his exhaustion and the shock he continued to feel at the death of Mauval, he knew that thinking things over quietly and having a good night's sleep would clear his mind. He was famished, but he did not want to satisfy his appetite in one of those mercenary Parisian establishments that cater for the lonely eater. He felt the need for home comforts.

Night had fallen. The cold was intense by the time he crossed the porch into the magistrate's house. He was delighted to find
the familiar smell of warm bread wafting through the air. He took Marion and Poitevin by surprise as they sat talking at the pantry table. A large steaming pot was simmering on the stove. This familiar scene reassured him just as much as the smell in his nostrils. He enjoyed being welcomed like the prodigal son in the Bible. Monsieur de Noblecourt was still unwell, but he had constantly been asking after his lodger. He would be pleased to see Nicolas.

The young man went up to his room via the hidden staircase, taking with him a jug of hot water. He wanted to have a quick wash and tend his wounds before going to see the procurator. He was delighted to find the clothes he had ordered from Master Vachon. By the light of his candle the handsome green coat was resplendent with all its embroidery. When at last he entered the library, joyfully greeted by Cyrus who barked and jumped around, he discovered his host slumped in his armchair with his right foot wrapped in wadding and resting on a tapestry cushion. Monsieur de Noblecourt was reading and had to make an effort to turn towards Nicolas.