"Well, we shall have no more contests about the 100,000 francs," said Manoel; "for they will disappear with M. Boehmer."
M. Boehmer entered, followed by Bossange. Both looked humble and embarra.s.sed. Boehmer began, and explained that political reasons would prevent their fulfilling their contract.
Manoel cried out angrily; Beausire looked fierce.
Manoel said "that the bargain was completed, and the money ready."
Boehmer persisted.
Manoel, always through Beausire, replied, "that his Government had been apprised of the conclusion of the bargain, and that it was an insult to his queen to break it off."
M. Boehmer was very sorry, but it was impossible to act otherwise.
Beausire, in Manoel"s name, refused to accept the retractation, and abused M. Boehmer as a man without faith, and ended by saying, "You have found some one to pay more for it."
The jewelers colored.
Beausire saw that he was right, and feigned to consult his amba.s.sador.
"Well," said he at length, "if another will give you more for your diamonds, we would do the same, rather than have this affront offered to our queen. Will you take 50,000 francs more?"
Boehmer shook his head.
"100,000, or even 150,000," continued Beausire, willing to offer anything rather than lose the booty.
The jewelers looked dazzled for a moment, consulted together, and then said, "No, monsieur, it is useless to tempt us. A will more powerful than our own compels us to decline. You understand, no doubt, that it is not we who refuse. We only obey the orders of one greater than any of us."
Beausire and Manoel saw that it was useless to say more, and tried to look and speak indifferently on the matter.
Meanwhile the valet had been listening attentively, and just then making an unlucky movement, stumbled against the door. Beausire ran to the ante-chamber. "What on earth are you about?" cried he.
"Monsieur, I bring the morning despatches."
"Good," said Beausire, taking them from him, "now go."
They were letters from Portugal, generally very insignificant, but which, pa.s.sing through their hands before going to Ducorneau, often gave them useful information about the affairs of the emba.s.sy.
The jewelers, hearing the word despatches, rose to leave like men who had received their conge.
"Well," said Manoel, when they were gone, "we are completely beaten.
Only 100,000 francs, a poor spoil; we shall have but 8,000 each."
"It is not worth the trouble. But it might be 50,000 each."
"Good," replied Manoel, "but the valet will never leave us now he knows the affair has failed."
"Oh, I know how we will manage him. He will return immediately, and claim his share and that of his comrades, and we shall have the whole house on our hands. Well, I will call him first to a secret conference; then leave me to act."
"I think I understand," said Manoel.
Neither, however, would leave his friend alone with the chest while he went to call him.
Manoel said "that his dignity as amba.s.sador prevented him from taking such a step."
"You are not amba.s.sador to him," said Beausire; "however, I will call through the window."
The valet, who was just beginning a conversation with the porter, hearing himself called, came up.
Beausire said to him, with a smiling air, "I suppose you were telling this business to the porter?"
"Oh, no."
"Are you sure?"
"I swear!"
"For if you were, you were committing a great folly, and have lost a great deal of money."
"How so?"
"Why, at present only we three know the secret, and could divide the 100,000 francs between us, as they all now think we have given it to M.
Boehmer."
"Morbleu!" cried the valet, "it is true: 33,300 francs each."
"Then you accept?"
"I should think so."
"I said you were a rogue," said Beausire, in a thundering voice; "come, Don Manoel, help me to seize this man, and give him up to our a.s.sociates."
"Pardon! pardon!" cried the unfortunate, "I did but jest."
"Shut him up until we can devise his punishment."
The man began to cry out.
"Take care," said Beausire, "that Ducorneau does not hear us."
"If you do not leave me alone," said the valet, "I will denounce you all."
"And I will strangle you," said Don Manoel, trying to push him into a neighboring closet.
"Send away Ducorneau somewhere, Beausire, while I finish this fellow."
When he had locked him up, he returned to the room. Beausire was not there; Don Manoel felt tempted. He was alone, and Beausire might be some little time; he could open the chest, take out all the bank-notes, and be off in two minutes. He ran to the room where it was: the door was locked. "Ah," thought he, "Beausire distrusted me, and locked the door before he went." He forced back the lock with his sword, and then uttered a terrible cry. The chest was opened and empty. Beausire had got, as we know, a second key; he had forestalled Manoel.
Manoel ran down like a madman; the porter was singing at the door--he asked if Beausire had pa.s.sed.