Читать книгу High Towers - Thomas B. Costain - Страница 23

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ater that day two men were seated in a tavern room in the lower town at Montreal. Jules Benoit, an unpleasant-looking individual with a touch of the king’s evil on his cheek, was one of them, Joseph de Mariat the other. It was stiflingly hot in the room and both men had discarded their coats.

“Everyone knows your purpose in coming here, m’sieur,” said Benoit, clasping his knees with fingers which seemed uneasy at his temerity in addressing thus the great visitor from France.

“Indeed.” De Mariat was sharpening a quill point as usual and did not look up. “And what is it that everyone knows?”

“That you are here to find how the fur-trading laws are being broken. You are an officer of the King and you’re gathering evidence.” The praticien indulged in a bleak smile. “I’m not a trader, monsieur. I’m a humble man of the law. I’ve nothing to conceal from you—and so, nothing to fear.”

De Mariat leaned forward in the direction of the window, in the hope of benefiting from any stray breeze. The move did him no good, however, for a high stone wall closed them off.

“What everyone in Montreal doesn’t know,” he said in his husky voice, “is that I’ve found out all I wanted to know. I know about the deals with the customs men at Quebec. I’ve inspected the secret compartments in the holds of ships which the accommodating inspectors never seem to find and which are so admirably suited to the storing of furs. I know the fishing vessels which meet the ships off the Isle of Oléron and unload the furs so that the inspectors in Rochelle find nothing at all.”

He finished the sharpening of the quill and examined it closely as though saying to himself, “And now I’m ready to write down what I know about you, my clever Jules Benoit, and that—ha-ha!—will be the end of you.” He nodded his head then and said in a ruminating tone: “I know, moreover, that the profits are enormous. After paying the customs men for their blindness, and scraping off a little for the captains and mates of the ships, and paying through the nose to the crews of the fishing vessels, and tickling the sensitive palms of the officials at Rochelle—after all this, Master Tabellion, it’s still possible for the merchants of New France to make as much as seven hundred per centum on their money.” He nodded his head with great self-satisfaction. “I have every name in my notes, every figure, every little single damning detail. I can go back to France and blow the whole mercantile fabric of this fine colony into bits just like—pouf!—just like that!”

The man of the law cupped a hand behind his ear and said in the interrogatory tone of the deaf, “What did you say?”

“I suspect your deafness,” declared De Mariat impatiently. “I’m sure you can hear everything you want to know. But I’ll repeat myself to this extent. I have the evidence to throw all the fur merchants in Montreal into prison.”

The lawyer nodded his head. “But naturally,” he said, “you’ll do nothing of the kind.”

The King’s officer laughed. “But naturally I’ll do nothing of the kind. These regulations, which our wise King has so graciously decided to impose on the fur trade, are not to be taken too seriously. Oh, I shall make a report and show there have been infractions. There will have to be scapegoats. None of the crown officials will be involved nor any of the important traders. It’s inconceivable that any mention could be made, for instance, of—well, shall we say, the great Le Moyne family? I’ve already made up my list. There’s a trifling little trader or two, the mate of a ship, an inconsequential clerk at Quebec who was foolhardy enough to collect a few sols for himself. I engage they’ll get off with nothing worse than fines.” He spread out the palms of both hands. “It’s all very regrettable but there’s the law to be satisfied and the suspicions of the King to be assuaged.”

Jules Benoit was entirely at home with this kind of talk. “The little men always make such safe targets,” he said. “It’s a great mistake to be one of the little men in the breaking of the law.”

Any hint of amiability which might have been detected in the round face of the King’s officer—it would have been small under the most favorable circumstances—faded away. He stared hard at Benoit, whose face, by way of contrast with his own massive countenance, was thin and sallow and completely dominated by a long and pointed nose.

“You understand,” he said, “that ways must be found to compensate those responsible for this unexpected display of leniency. I shall need an agent here, someone to make collections, to exert pressure in quarters where it may be needed, to buy up seigneuries under certain circumstances. I’ve been making inquiries and the answers I received to my discreet questioning bring me to you. You, M’sieur Benoit, are the one man cut to my measure. You, if you so desire, can make yourself most useful to me and the—the others I represent in these matters. If you decide to serve me, the rewards will be far from inconsiderable.”

“That is understood.” Nothing in the tone employed by the lawyer gave any hint of the exultation he was feeling. “The rewards must be far from inconsiderable.”

De Mariat leaned across the space between them until his face was not more than a foot from that of his companion. “A word of warning,” he said.

Benoit gasped. All sense of satisfaction had taken hasty wings. He felt as though he had been immersed suddenly under the waters of the sea and had found himself staring into the menacing eye of an octopus.

De Mariat began to speak in a husky whisper. “You will be infinitely careful and discreet in everything. You will be faithful and you will obey every order without question or delay. You will never let as much as a single word I’ve said to you reach any other pair of ears. If you should play me false in any single detail, like the niggling son of a horseleech I think you may be, you will find we have unpleasant ways of dealing with little traitors. Very unpleasant ways indeed. The prisons of France and the criminal graveyards are full of little traitors, and rash little liars, and misguided little thieves.”

Benoit felt as though he had at last attained the surface after a period during which breathing had been impossible. He swallowed several times and then said in a small voice, “You’ll never have cause for complaint, monsieur.”

De Mariat laughed easily. “We’ll discuss details later.” He reached into the embroidered pocket of his waistcoat and drew out a beautiful watch made in the form of a rosary. “As I thought, it’s quite late. You will do well to remember everything I have said to you.”