Chapter 28 The Prison Register
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THE
DAY AFTER that in which the scene we have just described had taken place
on the road between Bellegarde and Beaucaire, a man of about thirty or two
and thirty, dressed in a bright blue frock coat, nankeen trousers, and a
white waistcoat, having the appearance and accent of an Englishman,
presented himself before the mayor of Marseilles. "Sir," said
he, "I am chief clerk of the house of Thomson & French, of Rome.
We are, and have been these ten years, connected with the house of Morrel
& Son, of Marseilles. We have a hundred thousand francs or thereabouts
loaned on their securities, and we are a little uneasy at reports that
have reached us that the firm is on the brink of ruin. I have come,
therefore, express from Rome, to ask you for information." "Sir,"
replied the mayor. "I know very well that during the last four or
five years misfortune has seemed to pursue M. Morrel. He has lost four or
five vessels, and suffered by three or four bankruptcies; but it is not
for me, although I am a creditor myself to the amount of ten thousand
francs, to give any information as to the state of his finances. Ask of
me, as mayor, what is my opinion of M. Morrel, and I shall say that he is
a man honorable to the last degree, and who has up to this time fulfilled
every engagement with scrupulous punctuality. This is all I can say, sir;
if you wish to learn more, address yourself to M. de Boville, the
inspector of prisons, No. 15, Rue de Nouailles; he has, I believe, two
hundred thousand francs in Morrel's hands, and if there be any grounds for
apprehension, as this is a greater amount than mine, you will most
probably find him better informed than myself." The
Englishman seemed to appreciate this extreme delicacy, made his bow and
went away, proceeding with a characteristic British stride towards the
street mentioned. M. de Boville was in his private room, and the
Englishman, on perceiving him, made a gesture of surprise, which seemed to
indicate that it was not the first time he had been in his presence. As to
M. de Boville, he was in such a state of despair, that it was evident all
the faculties of his mind, absorbed in the thought which occupied him at
the moment, did not allow either his memory or his imagination to stray to
the past. The Englishman, with the coolness of his nation, addressed him
in terms nearly similar to those with which he had accosted the mayor of
Marseilles. "Oh, sir," exclaimed M. de Boville, "your fears
are unfortunately but too well founded, and you see before you a man in
despair. I had two hundred thousand francs placed in the hands of Morrel
& Son; these two hundred thousand francs were the dowry of my
daughter, who was to be married in a fortnight, and these two hundred
thousand francs were payable, half on the 15th of this month, and the
other half on the 15th of next month. I had informed M. Morrel of my
desire to have these payments punctually, and he has been here within the
last half-hour to tell me that if his ship, the Pharaon, did not come into
port on the 15th, he would be wholly unable to make this payment." "But,"
said the Englishman, "this looks very much like a suspension of
payment." "It
looks more like bankruptcy!" exclaimed M. de Boville despairingly. The
Englishman appeared to reflect a moment, and then said,--"From which
it would appear, sir, that this credit inspires you with considerable
apprehension?" "To
tell you the truth, I consider it lost." "Well,
then, I will buy it of you!" "You?"
"Yes,
I!" "But
at a tremendous discount, of course?" "No,
for two hundred thousand francs. Our house," added the Englishman
with a laugh, "does not do things in that way." "And
you will pay"-- "Ready
money." And the Englishman drew from his pocket a bundle of
bank-notes, which might have been twice the sum M. de Boville feared to
lose. A ray of joy passed across M. de Boville's countenance, yet he made
an effort at self-control, and said,--"Sir, I ought to tell you that,
in all probability, you will not realize six per cent of this sum." "That's
no affair of mine," replied the Englishman, "that is the affair
of the house of Thomson & French, in whose name I act. They have,
perhaps, some motive to serve in hastening the ruin of a rival firm. But
all I know, sir, is, that I am ready to hand you over this sum in exchange
for your assignment of the debt. I only ask a brokerage." "Of
course, that is perfectly just," cried M. de Boville. "The
commission is usually one and a half; will you have two--three--five per
cent, or even more? Whatever you say." "Sir,"
replied the Englishman, laughing, "I am like my house, and do not do
such things--no, the commission I ask is quite different." "Name
it, sir, I beg." "You
are the inspector of prisons?" "I
have been so these fourteen years." "You
keep the registers of entries and departures?" "I
do." "To
these registers there are added notes relative to the prisoners?" "There
are special reports on every prisoner." "Well,
sir, I was educated at home by a poor devil of an abbиж, who disappeared suddenly. I
have since learned that he was confined in the Chateau d'If, and I should
like to learn some particulars of his death." "What
was his name?" "The
Abbиж
Faria." "Oh,
I recollect him perfectly," cried M. de Boville; "he was
crazy." "So
they said." "Oh,
he was, decidedly." "Very
possibly; but what sort of madness was it?" "He
pretended to know of an immense treasure, and offered vast sums to the
government if they would liberate him." "Poor
devil!--and he is dead?" "Yes,
sir, five or six months ago--last February." "You
have a good memory, sir, to recollect dates so well." "I
recollect this, because the poor devil's death was accompanied by a
singular incident." "May
I ask what that was?" said the Englishman with an expression of
curiosity, which a close observer would have been astonished at
discovering in his phlegmatic countenance. "Oh
dear, yes, sir; the abbиж's
dungeon was forty or fifty feet distant from that of one of Bonaparte's
emissaries,--one of those who had contributed the most to the return of
the usurper in 1815,--a very resolute and very dangerous man." "Indeed!"
said the Englishman. "Yes,"
replied M. de Boville; "I myself had occasion to see this man in 1816
or 1817, and we could only go into his dungeon with a file of soldiers.
That man made a deep impression on me; I shall never forget his
countenance!" The Englishman smiled imperceptibly. "And
you say, sir," he interposed, "that the two dungeons" -- "Were
separated by a distance of fifty feet; but it appears that this Edmond
Dantииs"-- "This
dangerous man's name was"-- "Edmond
Dantииs.
It appears, sir, that this Edmond Dantииs had procured tools, or made them, for they found a
tunnel through which the prisoners held communication with one
another." "This
tunnel was dug, no doubt, with an intention of escape?" "No
doubt; but unfortunately for the prisoners, the Abbиж Faria had an attack of
catalepsy, and died." "That
must have cut short the projects of escape." "For
the dead man, yes," replied M. de Boville, "but not for the
survivor; on the contrary, this Dantииs
saw a means of accelerating his escape. He, no doubt, thought that
prisoners who died in the Chateau d'If were interred in an ordinary
burial-ground, and he conveyed the dead man into his own cell, took his
place in the sack in which they had sewed up the corpse, and awaited the
moment of interment." "It
was a bold step, and one that showed some courage," remarked the
Englishman. "As
I have already told you, sir, he was a very dangerous man; and,
fortunately, by his own act disembarrassed the government of the fears it
had on his account." "How
was that?" "How?
Do you not comprehend?" "No."
"The
Chateau d'If has no cemetery, and they simply throw the dead into the sea,
after fastening a thirty-six pound cannon-ball to their feet." "Well,"
observed the Englishman as if he were slow of comprehension. "Well,
they fastened a thirty-six pound ball to his feet, and threw him into the
sea." "Really!"
exclaimed the Englishman. "Yes,
sir," continued the inspector of prisons. "You may imagine the
amazement of the fugitive when he found himself flung headlong over the
rocks! I should like to have seen his face at that moment." "That
would have been difficult." "No
matter," replied De Boville, in supreme good-humor at the certainty
of recovering his two hundred thousand francs,--"no matter, I can
fancy it." And he shouted with laughter. "So
can I," said the Englishman, and he laughed too; but he laughed as
the English do, "at the end of his teeth." "And
so," continued the Englishman who first gained his composure,
"he was drowned?" "Unquestionably."
"So
that the governor got rid of the dangerous and the crazy prisoner at the
same time?" "Precisely."
"But
some official document was drawn up as to this affair, I suppose?"
inquired the Englishman. "Yes,
yes, the mortuary deposition. You understand, Dantииs' relations, if he had any,
might have some interest in knowing if he were dead or alive." "So
that now, if there were anything to inherit from him, they may do so with
easy conscience. He is dead, and no mistake about it." "Oh,
yes; and they may have the fact attested whenever they please." "So
be it," said the Englishman. "But to return to these
registers." "True,
this story has diverted our attention from them. Excuse me." "Excuse
you for what? For the story? By no means; it really seems to me very
curious." "Yes,
indeed. So, sir, you wish to see all relating to the poor abbиж, who really was gentleness
itself." "Yes,
you will much oblige me." "Go
into my study here, and I will show it to you." And they both entered
M. de Boville's study. Everything was here arranged in perfect order; each
register had its number, each file of papers its place. The inspector
begged the Englishman to seat himself in an arm-chair, and placed before
him the register and documents relative to the Chateau d'If, giving him
all the time he desired for the examination, while De Boville seated
himself in a corner, and began to read his newspaper. The Englishman
easily found the entries relative to the Abbиж
Faria; but it seemed that the history which the inspector had related
interested him greatly, for after having perused the first documents he
turned over the leaves until he reached the deposition respecting Edmond
Dantииs. There he found everything
arranged in due order,--the accusation, examination, Morrel's petition, M.
de Villefort's marginal notes. He folded up the accusation quietly, and
put it as quietly in his pocket; read the examination, and saw that the
name of Noirtier was not mentioned in it; perused, too, the application
dated 10th April, 1815, in which Morrel, by the deputy procureur's advice,
exaggerated with the best intentions (for Napoleon was then on the throne)
the services Dantииs had rendered to the imperial
cause--services which Villefort's certificates rendered indispensable.
Then he saw through the whole thing. This petition to Napoleon, kept back
by Villefort, had become, under the second restoration, a terrible weapon
against him in the hands of the king's attorney. He was no longer
astonished when he searched on to find in the register this note, placed
in a bracket against his name:-- Edmond
Dantииs. An
inveterate Bonapartist; took an active part in the return from the Island
of Elba. To
be kept in strict solitary confinement, and to be closely watched and
guarded. Beneath
these lines was written in another hand: "See note above--nothing can
be done." He compared the writing in the bracket with the writing of
the certificate placed beneath Morrel's petition, and discovered that the
note in the bracket was the some writing as the certificate--that is to
say, was in Villefort's handwriting. As to the note which accompanied
this, the Englishman understood that it might have been added by some
inspector who had taken a momentary interest in Dantииs'
situation, but who had, from the remarks we have quoted, found it
impossible to give any effect to the interest he had felt. As
we have said, the inspector, from discretion, and that he might not
disturb the Abbиж
Faria's pupil in his researches, had seated himself in a corner, and was
reading Le Drapeau Blanc. He did not see the Englishman fold up and place
in his pocket the accusation written by Danglars under the arbor of La Rииserve, and which had the
postmark, "Marseilles, 27th Feb., delivery 6 o'clock, P.M." But
it must be said that if he had seen it, he attached so little importance
to this scrap of paper, and so much importance to his two hundred thousand
francs, that he would not have opposed whatever the Englishman might do,
however irregular it might be. "Thanks,"
said the latter, closing the register with a slam, "I have all I
want; now it is for me to perform my promise. Give me a simple assignment
of your debt; acknowledge therein the receipt of the cash, and I will hand
you over the money." He rose, gave his seat to M. de Boville, who
took it without ceremony, and quickly drew up the required assignment,
while the Englishman counted out the bank-notes on the other side of the
desk. |
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