Exploits of Juve Being the Second of the Series of the "Fantomas" Detective Tales

Émile Souvestre

Description

THE COMRADES' TRYST A bowl of claret, Father Korn.

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 23 octobre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819908333
• Langue: English

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I
THE COMRADES' TRYST "A bowl of claret, FatherKorn."
The raucous voice of big Ernestine rose above thehubbub in the smoke-begrimed tavern. "Some claret, and let it begood," repeated the drab, a big, fair damsel with puckered eyes andfeatures worn by dissipation.
Father Korn had heard the first time, but he was inno hurry to comply with the order.
He was a bald, whiskered giant, and at the momentwas busily engaged in swilling dirty glasses in a sink filled withtepid water.
This tavern, "The Comrades' Tryst," had two rooms,each with its separate exit. Mme. Korn presided over the first inwhich food and drink were served. By passing through the door atthe far end, and crossing the inner courtyard of the largeseven-story building, the second "den" was reached – a low andill-lit room facing the Rue de la Charbonnière, a street famed inthe district for its bad reputation.
At a third summons, Father Korn, who had sized upthe girl and the crowd she was with, growled: "It'll be two moons;hand over the stuff first."
Big Ernestine rose, and pushing her way to him,began a long argument. When she stopped to draw a breath, Korninterposed: "It's no use trying that game. I said two francs andtwo francs it is." "All right, I won't argue with a brute likeyou," replied the girl. "Everyone knows that you and Mother Kornare Germans, dirty Prussians."
The innkeeper smiled quietly and went on washing hisglasses.
Big Ernestine glanced around the room. She knew thecrowd and quickly decided that the cash would not beforthcoming.
For a moment she thought of tackling old MotherToulouche, ensconced in the doorway with her display of portugalsand snails, but dame Toulouche, snuggled in her old shawl, was fastasleep.
Suddenly from a corner of the tavern, a weary voicecried with authority: "Go ahead, Korn, I'll stand treat."
It was the Sapper who had spoken.
A man of fifty who owed his nickname to the currentreport that he had spent twenty years in Africa, both as a soldierand a convict.
While Ernestine and her friends hastened to histable, the Sapper's companion, a heavily built man, rose carelesslyand slouched off to join another group, muttering: "I'm too nearthe window here." "It's Nonet," explained the Sapper to Ernestine."He's home from New Caledonia, and he doesn't care to show himselfmuch just now."
The girl nodded, and pointing to one of hercompanions, became confidential. "Look at poor Mimile, here. He'sjust out of quod and has to start right off to do his service.Pretty tough."
The Sapper became very interested in theconversation. Meanwhile Nonet, as he crossed the tap-room, hadstopped a few moments before a pretty girl who was evidentlyexpecting some one. "Waiting again for the Square, eh, Josephine?"Nonet inquired.
The girl, whose big blue eyes contrasted strikinglywith her jet black hair, replied: "Why not? Loupart doesn't thinkof quitting me that I know of." "Well, when he does let me know,"Nonet suggested smilingly.
Josephine shrugged her shoulders contemptuously,and, glancing at the clock above the bar, rose suddenly and leftthe tap-room.
She went rapidly down the Rue Charbonnière and alongthe boulevard, in the direction of the Barbès Metropolitan Station.On reaching the level of the Boulevard Magenta, she slackened andwalked along the right-hand pavement toward the centre of Paris."My little Jojo!"
The girl who, after leaving the tavern, had assumeda quiet and modest air, now came face to face with a stoutgentleman with a jovial face and one gleaming eye, the other eyebeing permanently closed. He wore a beard turning grey and hisderby hat and light cane placed him as belonging to the middleclass. "How late you are, my adored Jojo," he murmured tenderly."That accursed workshop been keeping you again after hours?"
The mistress of Loupart checked a smile. "That'sit!" she replied, "the workshop, M. Martialle."
The man addressed made a warning gesture. "Don'tmention my name here; I'm almost home." He pulled out his watch."Too bad; I'll have to go in or my wife will kick up a row. Let'ssee, this is Tuesday; well, Saturday I'm off to Burgundy on myusual half-monthly trip. Meet me at the Lyons station, platform No.2, Marseilles express. We won't be back till Monday. A delightfulweek-end of love-making with my darling who at last consents....What's that!"
The stout man broke off his impassioned harangue. Abeggar, emerging from the darkness, importuned him: "Have pity onme, kind sir." "Give him something," urged Josephine.
The middle-aged lover complied and tenderly drewaway the pretty girl, repeating carefully the details of theassignation: "Lyons Station; a quarter past eight. The train leavesat twenty to nine."
Then suddenly dropping Josephine's arm: "Now,sweetheart, you'd better hurry home to your good mother, andremember Saturday."
The outline of the portly personage faded into thenight. Loupart's mistress shrugged her shoulders, turned, and madeher way back to the "Tryst," where her place had been kept forher.
At the back of the tavern, the group which Nonet hadjoined were discussing strange doings. "The Bear," head of the bandof the Cyphers, had just returned from the courthouse. He broughtthe latest news. Riboneau had been given ten years, but was goingto try for a reduced sentence.
The talk suddenly dropped. A hubbub arose outside, adull roar which waxed louder and louder. The sound of hurryingfootsteps mingled with shrill cries and oaths. Doors in the streetslammed. A few shots were fired, followed by a pause, and then thestampede began again.
Father Korn, deserting his bar, warily plantedhimself at the entry to his establishment, his hand on the latch ofthe door. He stood ready to bar entrance to any who might try topress in. "The raid," he warned in a low tone.
His customers, glad to feel themselves in safety,followed the vicissitudes of what to them was almost a dailyoccurrence.
First came the frenzied rush of the "streetwalkers," deserted by their sinister protectors and fleeing madlyin search of shelter in terror of the lock-up. Behind the shriekingherd the constables, in close ranks, swept and cleared the street,leaving no corner, no court, no door that remained ajar unsearched.Then the whirl swept away, the noise died down, and the streetresumed its normal aspect: drab, weird and alarming.
Father Korn laughed. "All they've bagged isBonzville!" he cried, and the customers responded to his merriment.The police had been fooled again. Bonzville was a harmless oldtramp, who got himself "jugged" every winter on purpose to lay upfor repairs.
The passage of the "driver" had caused enough stirin the tap-room to distract attention from the entry at the back ofa stoutly built man with a bestial face, known by the title of "TheCooper."
Swiftly he passed to the Beard's table, and, takingthe latter aside, began: "The big job is fixed for the end of theweek. On my way back from the station I saw Josephine palaveringwith the swell customer...."
Suddenly the Beard stopped him short.
The general attention had become fixed on the streetentrance to the tap-room. The door had opened with a bang andLoupart, alias "The Square," the popular lover of the prettyJosephine, came on the scene, his eyes gleaming, his lips smilingunder his upturned moustache.
Then there broke out cries of stupefaction. Loupartwas between two policemen, who had stopped short in thedoorway.
The Square turned to them: "Thank you, gentlemen,"he said in his most urbane tone. "I am very grateful to you forhaving seen me this far. I am quite safe now. Let me offer you adrink to the health of authority!"
However, the two policemen did not dare to enter thetavern, so they briefly declined and made off. Josephine had risen,and Loupart, after pressing a tender kiss upon her lips, turned tothe company. "That feazes you, eh! I was just heading this way whenI ran into the drive. As I'm a peaceful citizen, I got hold of twocops and begged them to see me safely home. They thought I wasreally scared."
There was a burst of general laughter. No one couldbluff the police like the Square.
Loupart turned to Josephine: "How are things going,ducky?"
The girl repeated in a low tone to her lover herrecent talk with M. Martialle.
Loupart nodded approvingly, but grumbled when hefound the meeting was fixed for Saturday. "Hang the fellow! Musthustle with all the jobs on hand this week. Anyway, we won't letthis one slip by. Plenty of shiners, eh, Josephine?" "You bet. Hecarries the stuff to his partners every fortnight." "That's firstrate, but in the meantime there's something doing to-night. Here,kiddy, take a pen and scratch off a letter for me."
The Square dictated in a low voice: "Sir, I am onlya poor girl, but I've some feeling and honesty and I hate to seewrong done around me. Believe me, you'd better keep an eye open onsome one pretty close to me. Maybe the police have already told youI am the mistress of Loupart, alias the Square. I'm not denying it;in fact, I'm proud of it. Well, I swear to you that this Loupart isgoing to try a dirty game."
Josephine stopped writing. "Look here, what are youat?" "Scribble, and don't bother yourself. This doesn't concernyou," replied Loupart drily.
Josephine waited, docile and ready, but the Square'sattention was now focussed upon Ernestine, her young man and thegenerous Sapper. "Yes," Ernestine was explaining to Mimile whilethe Sapper nodded approvingly, "the Beard is, as you might say, thehead of the band of Cyphers, next to Loupart, of course. To belongto the Beard's gang you've got to have done up at least one guy.Then you get your Number 1. Your figure increases according to thenumber of deaders you have to your credit." "So then," inquiredMimile, with eager curiosity, "Riboneau, who has just beensentenced, is called number 'seven' because ..." "Because," addedthe Sapper in his serious voice, "because he has killed offseven."
In a few curt questions the