"Because ... because I don"t want to do it any more! There!"
"Come now, Nichoune, what is your reason? You must have one."
This time the singer got up as though she would go off at once.
"Reasons?" she cried. "Look here, Vagualame, it"s better to tell you the truth! Very well, then, spying is not my strong point! It is three months since I began it--since you enticed me into it ... and life is not worth living.... I am in a constant state of terror--I am afraid of being caught at it. They say: "Do this--Do that!" I am always seeing new agents ... you come--you go--you disappear--it"s maddening!
I have already broken with my lover ... with Vinson! I don"t want to be on such terms with anyone mixed up in your spying, I can tell you!... In the first place, there"s something wrong with my heart, and to live in such a perpetual state of terror is very bad for me ... so you have got to understand, Vagualame--I say it straight out--I don"t go on with it.... I would rather go to the magistrate and put myself completely outside this abominable business--there! That"s all about it!"
It was impossible to mistake the meaning of these decisive words. Here was not the spy who sought to increase his pay by threatening to reveal everything; it was the spy who is obsessed with the fear of being taken, who no longer wishes to continue his dreadful work--to follow his nefarious calling.
Vagualame gave no sign of surprise.
"Listen, my pretty one! You are at perfect liberty to do what seems good to you, and if you have just come in for some money!"...
"No one has left me any money," interrupted Nichoune.
"Oh, well," replied Vagualame, "if you despise the nice sum I bring you every month, that"s your business! But I don"t suppose you want to leave your old comrade in a fix, do you?"
Nichoune hesitated.
"What do you want me to do now?" she asked.
"A very little thing, my pretty one! If you will not go in with us any longer, you are perfectly free to leave us, I repeat it, but don"t leave us in the lurch just at this moment! This paper is of the very greatest importance ... be nice--take it, and give it to Belfort--I will not bother you again after this."...
Nichoune held out her hand, but it was with an ill grace.
"Oh, all right!" said she. "Give me the thing! All the same, you know now that it is the very last time you are to apply to me!"
Then she added, laughing in her usual hail-fellow-well-met way, and pressing the old fellow"s hand as she moved towards the door:
"I don"t mean to be the letter-box of Chalons any more: that"s ended--the last collection has been made!"
Nichoune departed. Vagualame wished her a cordial "Good night"; then, locking the door, he became absorbed in his reflections.
Towards five o"clock in the afternoon of the day following his private talk with Nichoune, Vagualame accosted the proprietor of a little inn situated at the extreme end of the town, and far removed from the tavern where he had pa.s.sed the night.
"Mademoiselle Nichoune is not in, is she?"
"No, my good man--what do you want with her?"
Vagualame gave a little laugh.
"Has she not told you, then, that she was expecting someone from her part of the country to call on her?"
The innkeeper was leaning carelessly against the wall. He straightened himself a little.
"Yes, Mademoiselle Nichoune has told us that an old musician would call to see her this afternoon, and that we must ask him to wait."...
"Ah, she"s a good, kind little thing! How courageous! What a worker!"
Vagualame seemed to be speaking to himself.
"You know her very well, then?" asked the puzzled innkeeper.
"I should think I did!" protested the old fellow. "Why, it was I who taught her to sing!... Do you think she will be long, my little Nichoune?"
"I don"t fancy so! If you would like to come in and wait for her in her room, you will find it at the end of the corridor. It"s not locked.... You will find some picture papers on her table."
"Thank you, kind sir," said Vagualame after a moment"s hesitation. "I will go in and rest for a few minutes," and, hobbling along, he gained the singer"s room. The moment he was inside, and the door safely shut, his whole att.i.tude changed. He looked eagerly about him.
"If there is anything, where is it likely to be?"... He considered.
"Why, in the mattress, of course!"
He drew from some hiding-place in his garments a long needle, and began to probe the mattress of Nichoune"s bed very carefully.
"Ha, ha!" cried he, suddenly. The needle had come in contact with something difficult to penetrate. "I wager it"s what I am after!"
Vagualame slipped his hand, spare and delicately formed, under the counterpane.
"Little idiot!" he exclaimed in a satisfied tone. "She has not even hidden it inside the mattress! She has just slipped it in between the pallia.s.se, and the hair mattress on top--why, she"s a child!"
He drew out two envelopes and eagerly read the addresses.
"Oh," cried he, "this is more serious than I thought!... Action must be taken at once!... Nichoune! Nichoune! you are about to play a dangerous game, a game which is likely to cost you dear!"
On the first of the envelopes Vagualame had read one word:
"_Belfort._"
This was the doc.u.ment he had handed over to the actress the night before. After all, he was not much astonished to find that Nichoune had not pa.s.sed the letter on. But the other envelope bore an address which Vagualame gazed at reflectively.
"Monsieur Bonnett, Police Magistrate."
"She is selling us, by Jove!" he murmured. "There"s not a doubt of it!
The little wretch!... She has scruples, has she!... Her conscience reproaches her! I am going to give her a lesson--one of my own sort!"
Vagualame was turning the letter over and over.
"I must know its contents," he went on.... "Ah, I shall manage to get hold of this little paper, to-morrow morning, when."...
Vagualame"s murmured monologue came to an abrupt conclusion.
"That"s her voice!" he exclaimed. With the nimbleness of youth he put back the two letters, rapidly drew from his pocket a bundle of letters; with marvellous ability forced open a table drawer, and mixed them with others Nichoune had placed there.
"There, my little dear!" said he, aloud. "There"s something to do honour to your memory!"
He closed the drawer in a second. He had barely time to seat himself in an arm-chair near his accordion, lying on the floor, when Nichoune entered.