A Thousand Francs Reward; and, Military Sketches

  Produced by David Widger

  A THOUSAND FRANCS REWARD.

  By Emile Gaboriau.

  Translated by Laura E. Kendall.

  A THOUSAND FRANCS REWARD.

  I.

  It's a very short time ago, yesterday as it were, that one Sundayafternoon about four o'clock, the whole Quartier du Marais was in anuproar.

  Rumor asserted that one of the most respectable merchants in the HueBoi-de-Sicile had disappeared, and all efforts to find him continuedfruitless.

  The strange event was discussed in all the shops in the neighborhood;there were groups at the doors of all the fruit-sellers, every momentsome terrified housewife arrived, bringing fresh particulars.

  The grocer on the corner had the best and latest news, the mostreliable, too, for he received his information from the lips of the cookwho lived in the house.

  "So," said he, "yesterday evening, after dinner, our neighbor, MonsieurJandidier, went down to his cellar to get a bottle of wine, and wasnever seen again. He disappeared, vanished, evaporated!"

  It occasionally happens that mysterious disappearances are mentioned.The public becomes excited, and prudent people buy sword-canes.

  Policemen hear absurd reports, and shrug their shoulders. They know thewrong side of the carefully embroidered canvas. They investigate, andfind, instead of artless falsehoods, the truth; instead of romances,sorrowful stories. Yet, up to a certain point, the grocer of the RueSaint Louis told the truth.

  M. Jandidier, manufacturer of imitation jewelry, had not been at homefor the last twenty-four hours.

  M. Theodore Jandidier was a man fifty-eight years old, very stout andvery bald, who had made a large fortune in business. He was supposedto have a considerable income from stocks and bonds, and his businessbrought him annually, on an average, fifty thousand francs. He wasbeloved and respected in his neighborhood, and justly so; his honestywas above suspicion, his morality rigid. Married late in life to apenniless relative, he had made her perfectly happy. He had an onlydaughter, a pretty, graceful girl, named Therese, whom he worshiped. Shehad been engaged to the eldest son of Schmidt the banker--member of thefirm Schmidt, Gubenheim & Worb--M. Gustave; but the match was brokenoff, nobody knew why, for the young people were desperately in lovewith each other. It was said by Jandidier's acquaintances that Schmidtsenior, a perfect skinflint, had demanded a dowry far beyond themerchant's means.

  Notified by public rumor, which hourly exaggerated the story, thecommissary of police went to the home of the man already called "thevictim," to obtain more exact information.

  He found Mme. and Mlle. Jandidier in such terrible grief that it waswith great difficulty he gleaned the truth. At last he learned thefollowing details:

  The day before, Saturday, M. Jandidier had dined with his family asusual, though his appetite was not good, owing, he said, to a violentheadache.

  After dinner he went to his stores, gave some orders, and then enteredhis office.

  At half past six he came upstairs again, and told his wife he was goingto walk.

  And he had not been seen since!

  After carefully noting these particulars, the commissary requested Mme.Jandidier to let him speak with her alone a few minutes. She made a signof assent, and Mlle. Therese left the room.

  "Pardon the question I am about to ask, madame," said the policeofficer. "Do you know whether your husband--again I beg you to excuseme--had any ties outside of his own family?"

  Mme. Jandidier started up; anger dried her tears.

  "I have been married twenty-three years, monsieur, and my husband hasnever returned home later than ten o'clock."

  "Was your husband in the habit of going to any club or cafe, madame?"continued the officer.

  "Never; I wouldn't have allowed it."

  "Did he usually carry valuables on his person?"

  "I don't know; I attended to my housekeeping and didn't trouble myselfabout business matters."

  It was impossible to get anything more from the haughty wife, who wasfairly bewildered by sorrow.

  Having performed his duty, the commissary thought he ought to give thepoor woman a little commonplace consolation.

  But on withdrawing, after an examination of the house, he felt veryanxious, and began to suspect that a crime had been committed.

  That very evening one of the most skillful members of the detectiveforce, Retiveau, better known in the Rue de Jerusalem under the nameof Maitre Magloire, was put on M. Jandidier's track, supplied with anexcellent photograph of the merchant.

  II.

  The very day after M. Jandidier's disappearance, Maitre Magloireappeared at the Palais de justice to report what he had done to themagistrate in charge of the affair.

  "Ah! there you are, Monsieur Magloire," said the magistrate; "so you'vediscovered something?"

  "I am on the trail, monsieur."

  "Speak."

  "To begin with, Monsieur Jandidier did not leave home at half past sixo'clock, but precisely seven."

  "Precisely?"

  "Precisely. I ascertained that from a clock-maker in the Rue SaintDenis, who is sure of it, because while passing his shop, MonsieurJandidier took out his watch to see if it was exactly like theclock over the door. He held an unlighted cigar in his mouth. Havingdiscovered this last circumstance, I said to myself, 'I have it! He'lllight his cigar somewhere.' I reasoned correctly; he went into a retailshop on the Boulevard du Temple, whose mistress knows him very well. Thefact was impressed on the woman's memory because he always smoked soucigars, and this time bought London ones."

  "How did he appear?"

  "Absent-minded, the shop-keeper told me. It was from her I found outthat he often went to the Cafe Ture. I entered it, and was told that hehad been there Saturday evening. He took two small glasses of brandy,and talked with his friends. He seemed dull. 'The gentleman talked allthe time about life insurance policies,' the waiter told me. At halfpast eight o'clock our man left the with one of his friends, a merchantin the neighborhood, Monsieur Blandureau. I instantly went to thisgentleman, who informed me that he walked up the boulevard with MonsieurJandidier, who left him at the corner of the Rue Richelieu, pleading abusiness engagement. He was not in his usual spirits, and seemed to beassailed by the gloomiest presentiments."

  "Very well, so far," murmured the magistrate.

  "On leaving Monsieur Blandureau, I went to the Rue Roi-de-Sicile toascertain from somebody in the house whether Monsieur Jandidier had anycustomers or friends in the Rue Richelieu, but no one lived there excepthis tailor. I therefore proceeded hap-hazard to the tailor. He saw ourman Saturday. Monsieur Jandidier called on him after nine o'clock toorder a pair of trousers. While his measure was being taken, he noticedthat one of his vest buttons was nearly off, and asked to have it sewedon. He was obliged to take off his overcoat while the trifling repairwas made, and as at the same time he removed the contents of the sidepocket, the tailor noticed several hundred-franc bank-bills."

  "Ah!" that's a clew, "He had a considerable sum of money with him?"

  "Considerable, no; but tolerably large. The tailor estimates it attwelve or fourteen hundred francs."

  "Go on," said the magistrate.

  "While his vest was being repaired, Monsieur Jandidier complained ofsudden indisposition, and sent a little boy for a carriage, saying thathe was obliged to go to one of his workmen, who lived a long distanceoff. Unfortunately, the lad had forgotten the number of the carriage.He only recollected that it had yellow wheels, and was drawn by a largeblack horse. The vehicle was found. A circular sent to all who keptcarriages for hire, put me on the track. I learned this morning thatit was No. 6007. The dr
iver, on being questioned, distinctly rememberedhaving been stopped Saturday evening, about nine o'clock, in the RueRichelieu, by a little boy, and waiting ten minutes in front of theMaison Gouin. The description he gave of his fare exactly suits ourman, and he recognized the photograph among five different ones I showedhim."

  Maitre Magloire stopped. He wanted to enjoy the approval visible in themagistrate's expression.

  "Monsieur Jandidier," he continued, "ordered the driver to take him toNo. 48 Rue d'Arras-Saint-Victor. In this house lives a workman namedJules Tarot, employed by Monsieur Jandidier."

  M. Magloire's way of pronouncing this name was intended to rouse themagistrate's attention, and did so.

  "You have suspicions?" he asked.

  "Not exactly, but this is the story. Monsieur Jandidier dismissed thecarriage at the Rue d'Arras and went to Tarot's about ten o'clock. Ateleven the employer and workman came out together. The latter did notreturn until midnight, and here I lose all trace of my man. Of course Ididn't question Tarot, for fear of putting him on his guard."

  "Who is this Jules Tarot?"

  "A workman in mother-of-pearl, a man who polishes shells on a grindstoneto make them perfectly iridescent. He's a skillful fellow, and, assistedby his wife, to whom he has taught his trade, can make nearly a hundredfrancs a week."

  "They are in easy circumstances, then?"

  "Oh! no. They are both young, they have no children, they are Parisians.Deuce take it, they enjoy themselves. Monday regularly carries away whatthe other days bring."

  III.

  Two hours after Maitre Magloire's report, the police went to searchJules Tarot's house.

  At sight of the officers, the workman and his wife turned deadly pale,and were seized with a nervous tremor that could not escape MaitreMagloire's practiced eye, Yet the most thorough investigation failed todetect anything suspicious, and the policemen were about to withdraw,when the detective noticed Tarot's wife glance anxiously at a cage hungin the window.

  This was a ray of light. In less than an instant Magloire had unhookedand taken down the cage. Between the boards, at the bottom, twelvehundred-franc bank-bills were found.

  This discovery seemed to crush the workman. As to his wife, she beganto utter piercing shrieks, protesting that both she and her husband wereinnocent. They were arrested, conveyed to head-quarters, and questionedby the magistrate. Their answers were precisely the same.

  They acknowledged having received a visit from their employer Saturdayevening. He seemed so ill that they asked him to take something todrink, but he refused. He had come, he said, to give a large order, andproposed that Tarot should undertake it, employing his own workmen.They replied that they had no means to do so, whereupon theiremployer answered: "No matter, I'll supply the money." And laid twelvehundred-franc bills on the table.

  At eleven o'clock M. Jandidier asked his workman to accompany him; hewas going to the Faubourg Saint Antoine. Tarot went as far as the Placede la Bastile, crossing the foot-bridge of Constantine, and walkingalong the canal.

  The magistrate asked both husband and wife the very natural question:

  "Why did you hide the money?"

  They made the same reply.

  Monday morning, hearing of M. Jandidier's disappearance, they wereseized with terror. Tarot said to his wife: "If it is known that ouremployer came here, that I crossed the bridge and followed the edge ofthe canal with him, I shall be seriously compromised. If this money werefound in our possession we should be lost."

  The wife then wanted to burn the notes, but Tarot opposed the plan,intending to return them to the family.

  This explanation was reasonable and plausible, if not probable, but itwas merely an explanation. Tarot and his wife were kept under arrest.

  IV.

  A week after, the magistrate was still greatly perplexed. Three moreexaminations had not enabled him to come to any fixed conclusion.

  Were Tarot and his wife innocent? Were they simply marvelously clever inmaintaining a probable story?

  The magistrate knew not what to think, when one morning a strange rumorspread abroad. The Maison Jandidier had failed. A detective sent tomake inquiries, brought back the most startling news. M. Jandidier, whopeople supposed to be so rich, was ruined, utterly ruined, and for threeyears had kept up his credit by all sorts of expedients. There was not athousand francs in his house, and his notes due at the end of the monthamounted to sixty-seven thousand, five hundred francs.

  The cautious merchant gambled in stocks at the Bouerse, the virtuoushusband was unfaithful.

  The magistrate had just heard these particulars, when Maitre Magloireappeared, pale and panting for breath.

  "You know, monsieur?" he exclaimed on the threshold. "All!"

  "Tarot is innocent."

  "I think so; and yet, that visit--how do you explain that visit?"

  Magloire shook his head mournfully.

  "I'm a fool," said he, "and Lecoq has just proved it. Monsieur Jandidiertalked about life insurance policies at the Cafe Ture. That was the keyto the whole matter. Jandidier was insured for 200,000 francs, and thecompanies, in France, never pay in case of suicide; do you understand?"

  V.

  Thanks to M. Gustave Schmidt, who will marry Mlle. Therese Jandidiernext month, the Maison Jandidier did not fail.

  Tarot and his wife, on being restored to liberty, were set up inbusiness by the same M. Gustave, and no longer go junketing on Mondays.

  But what has become of M. Jandidier? A thousand francs reward for newsof him!

  MILITARY SKETCHES.

  THE CANTINIERE.

  She may be young or old, dazzlingly pretty or frightfully ugly; in thiscase looks make no difference, she is ever and always the same. If thereis much that is evil in her composition there is quite as much that isgood. She is a woman although--or because--she is a cantiniere. Thismuch is certain--she loves the soldier, and is ever ready to do him aservice.

  It is unnecessary to describe the cantiniere in her glory; that isto say, at the head of her regiment on review days, arrayed in falluniform, her glazed cap perched jauntily over one ear and her littlecask on her back. Every one knows her traditional jacket, coquettishshort skirt, trousers with scarlet stripes, and her fantastic boots.

  It is certainly a pretty sight to see her when the drum beats, leadingthe way, and keeping time to the step of the soldiers.

  But the drum is not always beating, fortunately! glory and noise donot suffice to fill the stomach, so on her return to the quarters, thecantiniere lays aside her gorgeous apparel, and resumes her civiliancostume, that is, a skirt and drees, and bestows her attention upon thethousand details connected with her establishment.

  The cantine is not what the civilian generally supposes; it is at oncea restaurant, wine-shop, cafe, beer-shop, and boarding-house. It is herethat the soldier--and sometimes the officer--takes his morning dram;the volunteer spends here a portion of the money sent him by his family;hussars afflicted with a hearty appetite find here a cheap supplement tothe mess-room; troopers under arrest can here enjoy a demi-tasse withoutleaving the quarters, and here all the non-commissioned officers taketheir meals.

  They pay forty-five centimes a day and furnish their bread: in exchangefor this amount, they are entitled to two meals a day, each composedof two dishes and a dessert, besides a bowl of soup or porridge in theevening.

  The charges are not high, as you see; so cantinieres do not accumulatefortunes as rapidly as the restaurant-keepers on the boulevards.

  But moderation in price does not prevent the articles from being good,for some cantinieres are veritable _cor-dons bleus_, competent toprepare a dish originated by Dr. Veron.

  In the generality of cases the cantiniere is the wife of a drummer inthe infantry, of a trumpeter in the cavalry; her husband is sometimesthe fencing-master, or even a common soldier; but his position or rankis not of the slightest importance. In the cantine, the husband is anonentity. His existence is scarcely recognized; and he is visible on
lyon great occasions, when there is a crowd, or when it is necessary toquell disorder, which is seldom the case.

  The husband of the cantiniere, when his duties are over for the day,smokes his pipe behind the door, and drinks brandy--or beer if he is aGerman; almost all the cantinierea are Alsatians. Their children aresent to the regimental school; some become officers, the majority becomeexcellent trumpeters.

  So the cantiniere reigns supreme in her domain, which does not preventher from serving others. She is generally assisted by a young woman, andby a good-natured soldier, who becomes her soldier, her right arm, inconsideration of a small salary. If any disorder arises she quells it,putting the offender out-of-doors herself if necessary.

  She does not like to give credit; but she is so kind-hearted that shecan not bear to see a man suffer, and it is impossible for her to refusea drop to a really thirsty soldier. Though she censures herself for herweakness, she does not know how to resist an entreaty; but we mustadmit that she is generally paid, and that she does not lose much by herliberality.

  And what woman would not do the same? How could any one refuse to complywith a request of this kind:

  "My good Madame Bajot,--I have been in the lock-. up for four days.I have not a penny nor even a morsel of tobacco to put in my pipe.I entreat you to send me six sous' worth of tobacco--and a quart ofbrandy--for I am very thirsty--through my comrade, and in a littlebottle on account of the corporal. By so doing you will save my life,and I will settle your bill next pay-day. Let the tobacco be very dryand of the best quality.