Читать книгу The Poisoners - Bowen Marjorie - Страница 19

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M. de La Reynie admitted him instantly to his office—he had, indeed, been waiting for him—and Desgrez related what had happened at the Louvre and his interview with M. de Saint-Maurice.

"It was obviously, Monsieur, an attempt to bribe me, to get me out of the way. Saint-Maurice didn't trouble to disguise his intention. He offered me almost anything I might like to ask for, if I would drop these investigations and leave Paris. He thinks I know too much. But of what knowledge am I suspected, Monsieur? I have been thinking over the whole affair. I cannot put two and two together."

"I certainly did not think," smiled M. de La Reynie, with a sparkle of excitement in his tired eyes, "that when we were tracking our quarry we should come upon the Court of Savoy. Now what the devil have La Bosse and this poor Italian girl, the Italian apothecary, and Doctor Rabel, if it is true that he has anything to do with it—I tell you his career is irreproachable—but what the devil have these people to do with M. de Saint-Maurice?"

"Is anything known of him?" asked Desgrez eagerly. "He is an exceptional man, powdered, scented, with features like a girl's—but no fool, no weakling."

"He is reputed to be the lover of the Duchess of Savoy—that is all I know of him," replied M. de La Reynie. "I have had no reason to take any interest in him so far. Now we will keep a watch on him. You say he is no fool, no weakling—he made a stupid move to-day when he tried to bribe you so openly. He might have guessed that you would come straight to me with the tale."

"He thought I was a raw provincial who could not fail to be dazzled. I daresay, now he sees that I have not been dazzled, he will take other means."

"I daresay," repeated M. de La Reynie, with a cynic smile. "Look out for your safety, don't go about alone. Beware of traps. If M. de Saint-Maurice thinks that you know something that affects him or his mistress, it is quite likely he will take measures to remove you. Perhaps you would, after all, have been wise to accept his bribe."

The Chief of Police glanced at his subordinate, who smiled without replying; then M. de La Reynie took a paper from a portfolio that lay close under his hands.

"I do not know if this is anything to do with the affair that we are dealing with, but a Jesuit from the Jesuit Church in the rue Saint-Antoine found this in one of the confessional boxes to-day. It is a letter with neither address nor date nor signature that refers to the proposed taking off of a high personage—the King himself, as it would seem. It may be a trap, a trick, a false scent—it may be something very important. In the same way that Mademoiselle Jacquetta may have died—a mere ruined folly—or there may be something else behind her tragedy—even those stupid words that she gave you with her last breath, poor child, may have a meaning."

"I wish I could think so, Monsieur."

"This paper about the King may have no importance. Something else has occurred," continued M. de La Reynie. "We have arrested a certain Madame Poulaillon, one Marguerite de Jehan, a young widow. You know we reopened 'The Lily Pot' and made it look as if La Bosse were still in business. Well, this poor fool walked straight into the trap. At present she is half-dead with fear and will say nothing. But presently, I hope, I can make her speak."

"What is there against her?"

"Only an old husband who died suddenly and a good-for-nothing lover, whom she's been supporting out of that same husband's coffers."

M. de La Reynie then showed Desgrez the scrap of paper that had been found by the Jesuits in one of their confessional boxes, remarking that the priests had no clue to which of their penitents had dropped it. Several ladies had visited that particular confessional box in the course of the day, and all had denied any knowledge of the paper.

It was gilt-edged, smelt of bergamot, and on it was written in English:

"The affair is becoming extremely dangerous. I shall write no more. I do not wish to be involved in bringing down such a magnificent quarry. Remember the difficulties of the enterprise. Not only France but the whole of Europe will be shocked and disturbed. You are too ambitious, too vindictive. You could never make it worth my while."

"Monsieur," asked Desgrez, "do you read that as referring to some plot against the King? Why is it in English? Perhaps it is the King of England to whom it refers."

M. de La Reynie shrugged his shoulders. "It appears to be a woman's notepaper and a woman's hand. It seems such an unaccountable piece of carelessness for one involved in anything dangerous to drop this in the confessional, and I am inclined to believe that it is a trick—something to put us off the track. I have a list of the ladies who visit the Jesuit Church—they include Madame de Soissons and Madame de Bouillon. That reminds me that I have heard that this M. de Saint-Maurice frequently visits the Hôtel de Soissons."

"It is natural, I suppose, since Madame de Soissons is connected with the House of Savoy."

"She is also," commented the Chief of Police drily, "a widow. You notice, my dear Desgrez, that in this investigation we come upon a good number of widows. Also Madame de Soissons was Olympe Mancini, one of Cardinal Mazarin's nieces, an Italian. It is not difficult to connect all these people together."

"But, Monsieur," said Desgrez earnestly, "I cannot see what is behind it all, what these people have to do with one another, what we are really fighting against."

"The secret sale of poisons in Paris," replied the Chief of Police quietly. "That, Desgrez, is what we have to face first of all. Then we have to discover who are these traders in death and where they obtain their stock-in-trade and who are their clients. We have to discover, also, if they are all but little people, or if, possibly, we may come upon some great ones connected with Court intrigues and politics."

Desgrez looked round the plain dark office with the bay window; it seemed such a quiet, dull, business-like place, yet the young man knew it was the nerve centre of a large, skilful organization on which the lives and peace of mind of all honest citizens depended. To Desgrez the Chief of Police was more important than the King and all his ministers; he was also a man in whose integrity the young man had complete trust; not wholly for selfish reasons did Desgrez long with an intensity that was almost violent to disentangle this affair of the poisons, he wished to serve, to please, M. de La Reynie.

"Monsieur," he asked eagerly. "What shall we do now?"

The elder man smiled kindly, if a little sadly, at this enthusiasm.

"We must wait. We must distrust all evidence until we have proofs. It is true that M. de Saint-Maurice did dine with me, and did try to recruit for the police force of Savoy. His application to you might, possibly, have been genuine. He may be no more than the mignon of Marie de Nemours—his concern may be that he is the friend of Jacquetta Malipiero's lover and wishes to hush that scandal up."

"I am convinced that it was Jacquetta Malipiero whom I saw last night descending from the coach driven by the Negro."

"It is likely enough. Work of that kind—abortion, infanticide—why, it is a trade in Paris, almost impossible to trace, so many are concerned in keeping it quiet. The law scarcely touches these horrors."

"But if the woman dies—is it not murder?"

"Yes—but how to prove it? Some tale is made up—like the attack in the Orangery—wild, foolish, incredible—but how to disprove it?"

"If we could arrest some of the scoundrels, we could force the truth out of them!"

"We have no evidence against anyone. The girl may have been going to Dr. Rabel's house, but I really cannot suspect him." M. de La Reynie shrugged his shoulders. "We must work very slowly, very carefully. If we are too officious—we shall find ourselves suddenly silenced. The King detests scandal."

"I saw a certain Marchese Pignata in the Louvre," said Desgrez. "My page told me the King respected him—feared him, perhaps."

"That is true—but what has it to do with our affair?"

"Pardon, Monsieur, but who exactly is this gentleman?"

"A very gifted, brilliant man—but a fanatic, he cares for nothing but the supremacy of Rome. He has been sent to France to steady the King against the Protestants, to keep the Church of France loyal to the Pope."

"Thank you, Monsieur—he seemed truly shocked by the death of Mademoiselle Jacquetta."

"He was sincere. He has refused all worldly honours which he might have had, and lives like a monk—vice disgusts him, crime angers him, he seems to have none of the passions of his age."

"Well, Monsieur," said Desgrez eagerly, "a man of this type must have great influence with the King, who is, at heart, very religious."

"Yes—but how does this help us?"

"Well, Monsieur, if I were Lieutenant of Police I should take this Innocenzo Pignata into my confidence and ask him to persuade the King to allow me to arrest all persons suspected of being customers of the Widow Bosse—"

M. de La Reynie laughed as he interrupted.

"You do not yet know the Court, Desgrez! We must employ indirect methods. But, if the chance arises I shall try to enlist the help of the Marchese Pignata."