The Orphan's Tale (46 page)

Malet lowered his head and sat down again.

PAYING THE PIPER II:

JUSTICE AND MERCY

"
Now," said d'Anglars when the door had closed. "I have some questions for you to answer privately."

Malet looked up at him.

"You have been headstrong in the past," d'Anglars said. "But I have never known you to be stupid regarding your safety or anyone else's. You would have been safe if you had followed that trap as you had planned it. Although it was against my express command, it was well thought out with checks and counter-checks. It entailed some risk, but the risk was minimized. What could have happened that would be so upsetting as to make you forget your precautions and step outside your frame of safety?"

Malet closed his eyes.
"I have already apologized, M. le Comte," he began.

"
I am not looking for an apology," d'Anglars said. "I am asking as a friend." When Malet was silent, he went to the desk nearby, took out a packet of papers and set them before Malet. "Was it because of these?"

Malet paled and looked up at d
'Anglars.

"
Sergeant Guillart tells me these were brought to you just before you left for Montmartre. Since the documents are on Police stationery, I had no hesitation in reading them. They put me in mind of something in your past; I pulled your dossier and reviewed it once again."

He looked down at Malet, who was studying his interlaced fingers as though he had never seen them before.
Malet raised his eyes to d'Anglars'.

"
Once I had done so," d'Anglars said gently, "things became clear to me. My interest had been piqued all those years ago when a man of very high caliber and experience described his reason for declining a promotion to Prefect of Police for an entire departement, and requesting a transfer, instead, to a slightly lower position, as 'heartbreak'."

"
Did I actually write that on an official document?" Malet asked.

"
You did, indeed. And the description was apt. You were forced to investigate a close friend, and hoping, I suspect, to clear his name, you ultimately had to arrest him, testify against him and, in the cruelest twist of all, convey him to prison." He watched Malet's expression and added quietly, "I have always had an excellent imagination, my dear Malet. And in your case, your anguish was not hard to understand."

"
I tried to warn him," Malet sighed. "But his conscience was clear, and I couldn't be more specific without betraying my own honor. The only wrong he did was to drop his past and try to step into a respectable life."

"A
nd under the law that could be considered a crime," d'Anglars said. "I read the case before you came. He had spent his time, since leaving the prison, in making something of himself and assisting others. But do those virtues outweigh breaking his parole?"

Malet looked down at his hands, clasped before him.
"I am not permitted to answer that, officially," he said. "And if I had tried--"

"
The law deals with justice," said d'Anglars. "Not with fairness and mercy. You must do your duty and leave those with latitude to make what decisions they can."

"
Yes," said Malet.

"
And I surmise that this was the man who overpowered you in the Luxembourg gardens and left you tied to that tree."

"
He could have killed me. I had my pistol with me and he found it."

"
What?"

"
He lingered because he thought I might have given myself a concussion - I fell rather heavily. He didn't want to leave me like that. When he was satisfied that I was all right, he went through my pockets - looking for a handkerchief to gag me - and found my pistol."

D
'Anglars raised his eyebrows.

"
I thought he was going to kill me. I suppose the blow to my head had addled me. I stopped fighting the knots and told him to get it over with."

D
'Anglars shook his head.

"
I thought I'd be damned if I begged for my life from anyone. He was indignant. How could I think such a thing of him? Hadn't I heard him say he meant me no harm? He put the pistol back, took out my handkerchief, and folded it into a gag."

"
He spared your life, then," d'Anglars said. "And you a formidable threat to his liberty, if not his life. Once you were free, being a man of honor and integrity, you had no choice but to search for him."

"
No choice." the words were almost inaudible. "And all this time I was trying to fight Dracquet."

"
And then, the afternoon of that trap, you received the papers and found yourself facing the heartbreak all over again. You thought you might be able to request clemency, but things might go wrong. Your confidence left you. Geraud Clerel said you left in a very subdued mood."

Malet lowered his head again.
"I thought it would all be starting again," he said, "and there was no escape. I had to leave that office and go somewhere to think."

"I
see," said d'Anglars. He looked at the papers and then set them aside. "I don't want a valued friend breaking his heart over something like this when it is not necessary. I have the personal authority to make a judgment regarding the magnitude of a crime, and to order or forbid further action. In this case, it is my judgment that this M. Fanchon is no more evil a man than you or me. Official action against him for anything in the past ends here: he can go forth with an easy heart. I take full responsibility for this decision, and I relieve you of any further involvement in this case, since your friendship with the subject presents a serious conflict of interest. As far as France is concerned, any possible case against M. Fanchon, or Vaux or Lambert, for that matter, is closed, and the evidence destroyed."

He smiled at Malet
's expression and put the papers in the fire. "You see?" he said. "You can set your heart at rest now. There will be no more tragedy on this score, at least."

"
But--"

"
It is within my power, Inspector," d'Anglars said. "And my mind is in no doubt. I am releasing a good man from a tragic past. Society won't suffer for this." He smiled and added, "You see, my very dear Malet, while solutions to great grief often can only be reached through labor and heartbreak and tears, sometimes they come once a wish is voiced or divined."

Malet
's voice shook slightly. "Then I thank you with all my heart, Monseigneur," he said.

"
Not at all," said d'Anglars. "I only regret that I could not have stepped in sooner."

Malet pushed himself to his feet.
"Thank you," he said again, speaking with difficulty. "You have no idea how-how very grateful I-"

"
Let us not discuss it any more," said d'Anglars. "You are wounded, still tired and, I suspect, still in pain that may have had some of the spiritual to it in additional to the physical. Well, that is over now and I am glad it is so. You can go in peace, and so can M. Fanchon. You may wish to write and tell him so, using official stationery." His voice became brisk again. "Now go to the carriage, which is waiting. I suggest you eat a good, hot meal, and go to bed as quickly as you can." He smiled and added, "Your bodyguard will report to you tomorrow. And be so good as to send M. l'Eveque in."

             
**  **  **

"
How odd to see him so subdued," murmured d'Anglars after the door had closed. "Do you suppose it will last?" He paused and answered his own question. "No: it won't. He will be as maddening as ever tomorrow. I should have saved my breath."

"
I think his present mood is more the result of chagrin than of illness, Monseigneur," said L'Eveque with a smile. "Only consider the defeat he just suffered: he had hoped to tie this attempt in to his case against Dracquet, but he botched his own trap through his own carelessness, as he admitted to you, and ended with nothing to show for the past evening but an impressive collection of corpses, two wounds that are probably painful and a tongue-lashing that is probably even more so."

D
'Anglars chuckled. "We all suffer embarrassment," he said. "It's seldom fatal. As long as he's safe I have no cause for complaint, and I am happy with the collection of corpses, two in particular."

L
'Eveque nodded. "René Benoit and Pierre le Noir," he said. "I was pleased with the contents of Benoit's pockets. Dracquet must be seething: if nothing else, he can be tied in to the attempted murder of a public official." He set his papers aside and said after a moment, "I owe a debt of gratitude to Mme. Descaux for taking him in and caring for him."

"S
he is a delightful woman," said d'Anglars. He sat back in his chair and crossed his ankles before him. "I do wish you could have been there, my dear L'Eveque, when M. Soult and M. D'Aillard followed Madame into the kitchen, learned what had happened, and organized a search party on the spot. Poor Malet was ready to sink through the floor - he had come to a woman's house bloody, sweat-stained and smelling of the sewers, only as a last resort. Do you know, it's the first time I can remember seeing him disheveled in all our acquaintance."

L
'Eveque nodded. "At least he can console himself that the assassination attempt itself was scotched, and a number of criminals arrested. I think we'll be able to put our hands on others within the next several weeks, so the evening's embarrassment wasn't in vain."

              INSPECTOR MALET LEARNS THAT

             
IT IS JUST AS BLESSED TO RECEIVE AS TO GIVE

             
IF SOMEWHAT MORE PERPLEXING AT TIMES

There, Pippin. You can just see him to the east. Just coming up over the horizon: see the three stars in a row?

What am I looking for, Papa?

The row of stars. Look, Pippin: see the eye of Taurus? Look east-northeast -

J
'n'comprends pas ce mot, Papa.

Say that in English, Pippin.
You'll never learn a language if you keep speaking your own. Now: look down from Taurus' eye and find the three bright stars in a row -

Like a belt?

Yes. Like a belt. That's Orion, the hunter. Look at him: it's the first time you have had a clear view of him. Isn't he magnificent?

Paul Malet could hear the voices in his mind, the child
's voice high and clear, the older man's voice low and rough. It had been mid October, and the sailor, Joseph Young, had called him to the ramparts of the prison to watch the stars. Orion was rising, he had said, and it was time Pippin made his acquaintance.

Papa Joseph had had a reason for all this.
France was emerging from the terrible paroxysm of the Terror, all tradition, all order swept away. The child beside him had known no stability in his short life, and was likely to see little more in the coming years. He had to learn to look for something to hold on to.

Malet understood that now, and he wondered once again at the chance that had brought Joseph Young to him at a time when he was lost and alone in the middle of a crowd of criminals, a little piece of spindrift blowing before the winds of his life.

He was sitting back against the luxurious upholstery of Count d'Anglars' carriage, gazing out through the window and up into the silent night sky. He was watching Orion rise higher. He was tired and stiff from his night of flight, but worse than any physical pain was the knowledge that he had spoiled his own plans and made a fool of himself before two-thirds of the upper crust of Paris. What had he gained from the past night? Precisely nothing, aside from the humiliation of being deservedly called upon the carpet! He was no closer to catching Dracquet than before, and he might as well have saved his time and trouble.

Batten to the things that never change, Pippin, Joseph Young had said, The stars, the moon, the sun, the sea, the earth itself...

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the cushioned backrest of the carriage. "Oh Papa," he sighed. "Did you ever know times like this?"

The stars glittered beyond the carriage window, bright, silent and monumentally calm, in sublime contrast to the turmoil and chagrin in his heart.

He drew a deep breath and expelled it. You live and learn, and no matter how old or wise or strong you are, it's best to remember that you're never too old or wise or strong to be taken by surprise.

Someone had tried to kill him.
No surprise, that: he had been expecting it. He had, after all, set the trap knowing that he would be the target for an assassination attempt. But, that to the side, he had resolved years before to give his life if necessary in the service of society, and he had not renounced that resolve.

But society had never stepped in to save his life before.

The carriage halted before the Rose d'Or. The postilion opened the door and lowered the step, and then stood aside. "Have a pleasant evening, Inspector!" he said.