Читать книгу The Poisoners - Bowen Marjorie - Страница 13

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When Lieutenant Charles Desgrez reported himself to M. de La Reynie at his offices in the Bastille he found the Chief of Police disappointed and serious.

"Desgrez, the woman has gone. Though I sent round to this 'Lily Pot' almost as soon as Clement made his report, she had fled. She must have been warned during the night. Not a trace of her! The houses either side are unoccupied, the other people in the street know nothing or will say nothing. Bax, the wool-merchant, has disappeared too. His wife says that he has been two weeks away in Flanders on his business—that is probably a lie, I cannot test it yet. She, too, of course, knows nothing." La Reynie shrugged his shoulders. "The affair looks serious to me. I heard Clement's story of last night. Both Doctor Rabel and Father Davout are beyond reproach. They have been well-known, well-conducted citizens for years." La Reynie opened his hands and let them fall upon the desk. "What they told you of this empty house, which so aroused your suspicions, is true. We will have the place watched, of course, but it would be extremely difficult, almost impossible, for any criminals to make a rendez-vous of this place so near to the residence of respectable people—whose bona fides we cannot doubt—like Doctor Rabel and Father Davout."

"Monsieur," asked Desgrez keenly, "you are not going to drop the affair, are you? We have only just begun. I feel that we have our finger on a thread which, if followed, may lead to important discoveries."

"No, no," replied the Chief of Police at once, "that this woman has fled, that Bax cannot be found, these facts are enough in themselves. Then the attack on you last night—that might have nothing to do with the main business I confess," he added with a smile, "that I am, for a moment, at a loss, baffled."

"Nothing found in the Widow Bosse's shop?"

"A number of empty jars, drawers, boxes and feminine frippery of no account. There was not a drug or medicine in the place—everything has been cleared out—burnt, I should think, by the look of the fireplaces."

"I have been clumsy," said Desgrez in a tone of great vexation. "I should not have aroused this wretch's suspicion. Yet it was only the Doctor and the Priest, whose characters you say are irreproachable, whom I told last night that I was attached to the police."

"The man who attacked you, if he was an accomplice of La Bosse, probably recognized you."

"I do not see how that is possible. He was in front of us all the way. He could only have found out by a backward glance or so that he was being followed. There was nothing on us to betray who we were."

La Reynie shrugged his shoulders. "Well, the woman's suspicion was aroused somehow, she managed to warn her lover. She must have had some hours in which to prepare her flight, for she has left nothing suspicious behind her, not so much as a scrap of paper, and absolutely no clue as to her whereabouts. Of course, we shall do the best we can to track her. The frontiers will be watched and the boats to England. I shall have my eye on the Netherlands too. You remember it was to Flanders that Madame de Brinvilliers escaped." With a sudden change of tone M. de La Reynie added briskly: "Desgrez, I have another affair for you." He raised his fine hands from above a letter on his desk. "This was brought me by a special messenger from the Louvre this morning. You know that the King, much as he dislikes the place, is in residence there for a short while."

"Yes," said Desgrez, surprised and rather disappointed at this turn of affairs.

"The reason," added the Chief of Police with impassive voice and face, "why His Majesty stays in the Louvre, is that Mademoiselle de Fontanges, in whom His Majesty takes a considerable interest, is ill. She is not fit to be moved to Versailles or Fontainebleau or Marli, so the King delays in Paris while the best doctors from the Sorbonne attend the young lady."

Charles Desgrez was not very much interested; he remained silent, still thinking over the events of last night, which greatly exasperated him.

"This poor young girl's illness has been complicated by a tragedy that has overtaken one of her favourite maids," continued La Reynie, "an Italian girl, who was her constant companion. This girl, going out alone this morning to the Orangery to pick some flowers and fruit for her mistress, was attacked by some mysterious malefactors. She was discovered in a dying condition a few hours later by her father. She was taken at once to her apartment, but for a long while was unconscious. Now she is able to speak, I understand, but can give very little account of this horrible affair. They say she has only a few hours to live." La Reynie raised his hazel eyes and gazed directly at the young policeman, who instantly be came alert. "This girl's name is Jacquetta Malipiero."

"Ah!" exclaimed Desgrez under his breath.

"The King is much disturbed by this criminal affair," continued M. de La Reynie quietly, "which, of course," he added emphatically, "is wholly mysterious. I waited on the King early this morning and heard an account of this business from His Majesty's own lips. His Majesty, you will understand, is chiefly concerned with the effect on Mademoiselle de Fontanges. He is, Desgrez, and this is truly important, infatuated with that unfortunate young lady, who is extremely stupid and not even very beautiful."

"What, then, is the attraction, for a Prince like the King?" asked Desgrez with an accent almost of contempt.

"You must understand," said M. de La Reynie gravely, "if you are to assist me in what I think is going to be a very difficult business, that the King's feeling for Mademoiselle de Fontanges is a feeling for a ghost, a sentiment, a faded rose, a memory of yesterday. In brief, this young lady is like, in looks and in character, Mademoiselle Louise de La Vallière who, nearly twelve years ago, left His Majesty to go into a convent. It is well known," added the Chief of Police drily, "that the King always loved that lady, who was good and loyal and who has repented her fault in loving him with years of penitence."

"Why did he let her go, then?" asked Desgrez bluntly.

"Madame de Montespan saw to that," smiled Monsieur de La Reynie. "She contrived, God, or rather the Devil, knows how, to win the King completely. You know how many years she has held him. You can imagine her feelings now, when she sees him turning to Mademoiselle de Fontanges. Ah, well, this is none of our business, but it is well you should know the state of affairs."

M. de La Reynie rose, and Desgrez got to his feet.

"I want you to go to the Louvre to investigate this extra ordinary attack upon Mademoiselle Malipiero. These are your instructions."