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Read Ebook: In the Village of Viger by Scott Duncan Campbell
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Ebook has 507 lines and 30539 words, and 11 pages
"There is no time to be lost; you must come now."
"But he will be desperate; he will face me like a lion."
"Never mind! you will have the reward."
"Well, wait!" And the constable went upstairs to get his pistol.
He came down with his blue coat on. He was a very fat man, and was out of breath when he came to the little milliner's.
"But who shall I ask for?" he inquired of Madame Laroque.
"Just search the house, and I will see that he does not escape by the back door." She had forgotten that there was no back door.
"Do you want a bonnet?" asked Mademoiselle Viau. She was on excellent terms with the constable.
"No!" said he, sternly. "You have a man in this house, and I have come to find him."
"Indeed?" said mademoiselle, very stiffly. "Will you be pleased to proceed?"
"Yes," said he, taking out his pistol and cocking it. "I will first look downstairs." He did so, and only frightened a cat from under the stove. No one knew that Mademoiselle Viau had a cat.
"Lead the way upstairs!" commanded the constable.
"I am afraid of your pistol, will you not go first?"
He went first and entered at once the only room, for there was no hall. In the mean time Madame Laroque had found out that there was no back door, and had come into the lower flat and reinspected it, looking under everything.
"Open that closet!" said the constable, as he levelled his pistol at the door.
Mademoiselle threw open the door and sprang away, with her hands over her ears. There was no one there; neither was there any one under the bed.
"Open that trunk!" eying the little leather-covered box.
"Monsieur, you will respect--but--as you will." She stooped over the trunk and threw back the lid; on the top was a dainty white skirt, embroidered beautifully. The little milliner was blushing violently.
"That will do!" said the constable. "There is no one there."
"Get out of the road!" he cried to the knot of people who had collected at the door. "I have been for my wife's bonnet; it is not finished." But the people looked at his pistol, which he had forgotten to put away. He went across to the widow's.
"Look here!" he said, "you had better stop this or I'll have the law on you--no words now! Making a fool of me before the people--getting me to put on my coat and bring my pistol to frighten a cat from under the stove. No words now!"
"Monsieur Cuerrier," inquired Madame Laroque that night, "who is it that Mademoiselle Viau writes to?"
"I am an official of the government. I do not tell state secrets."
"State secrets, indeed! Depend upon it, there are secrets in those letters which the state would like to know."
"That is not my business. I only send the letters where they are posted, and refuse to tell amiable widows where they go."
The hairdresser, forgetting his constant fear of disarranging his attire, threw back his head and laughed wildly.
"Trust a barber to laugh," said the widow. Villeblanc sobered up and look sadly at Cuerrier; he could not bear to be called a barber.
"How do you know he went in?"
"I saw him."
"How do you know he never came out?"
"I didn't see him."
"Ah! then you were watching?"
"Well, what if I was! The devil has a hand in it."
"I have no doubt," said Cuerrier, insinuatingly.
"Enough, fool!" exclaimed the widow--"but wait, I have not done yet!"
"You had better rest, or you will have the law on you."
The widow was afraid of the law.
About six months after this, when the snow was coming on, a messenger came from the city with a telegram for Monsieur Cuerrier--at least, it was in his care. He very seldom went out, but he got his boots and went across to Mademoiselle Viau's. The telegram was for her. When she had read it she crushed it in her hand and leaned against the wall. But she recovered herself.
"Monsieur Cuerrier, you have always been a good friend to me--help me! I must go away--you will watch my little place when I am gone!"
The postmaster was struck with pity, and he assisted her. She left that night.
"Where is it?"
"It has been lost."
"There!" said she, thrusting it under the postmaster's nose so that he could not get his pipe back to his mouth. Cuerrier looked consciously at the paragraph which she had pointed out. He had seen it before.
"Our readers will remember that the police, while attempting to arrest one Ellwell for the jewel-robbery which occurred in the city some time ago, were compelled to fire on the man in self-defence. He died last night in the arms of a female relative, who had been sent for at his request. He was known by various names--Durocher, Gillet, etc.--and the police have had much trouble with him."
"There!" said the widow.
"Well, what of that?"
"He died in the arms of a female relative."
"Well, were you the relative?"
"Indeed! my fine fellow, be careful! Do you think I would be the female relative of a convict? Do you not know any of these names?" The postmaster felt guilty; he did know one of the names.
"They are common enough," he replied. "The name of my aunt's second husband was Durocher."
"It will not do!" said the widow. "Somebody builds a house, no one knows who; people come and go, no one knows how; and you, a stupid postmaster, shut your eyes and help things along."
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