The Mesmerist's Victim

“Order to gather 3000 Brothers in Paris.

“Order to compose three circles and six lodges.

“Order to select a guard for the Grand Copt, and to provide four residences for him, one to be in a royal domicile.

“Order to set aside five hundred thousand francs for his police department.

“Order to enroll in the first Parisian lodge all the cream of literature and philosophy.

“Order to bribe or in some way get a hold on the magistracy, and particularly make sure of the Chief of Police, by bribery, violence or trickery.”

Ferret stopped at this passage, not because the poor man reflected but because he had to wait for the page to dry before he could turn over.

Sartines, being impatient, snatched the sheet from his knees and read it. Such an expression of terror spread over his features at the final paragraph, that it made him turn pale to see himself in the glass. He did not hand this sheet back to the clerk but passed him a clean one.

The man went on with his work, accomplishing it with the amazing rapidity of decipherers when once they hold the key.

Sartines now read over his shoulder.

“Drop the name of Balsamo beginning to be too well known, to take that of Count Fe – ”

A blot of ink eclipsed the rest of the name.

At the very time when the Police Chief was seeking the absent letters, the out-door bell rang and a servant came in to announce:

“His Lordship, Count Fenix!”

Sartines uttered an outcry, and clasped his hands above his wig at risk of demolishing that wonderful structure. He hastened to dismiss the writer by a side door, while, taking his place at his desk, he bade the usher show in the visitor.

In his mirror, a few seconds after, Sartines saw the stern profile of the count as he had seen him on the day when Lady Dubarry was presented at court.

Balsamo-Fenix entered without any hesitation whatever.

Sartines rose, made a cold bow, and sat himself ceremoniously down again, crossing his legs.

At the first glance he had seen what was the object of this interview. At a glance also Balsamo had seen the opened casket on the desk. His glance, however fleeting, had not escaped the magistrate.

“To what chance do I owe this visit, my lord?” inquired the Chief of Police.

“My Lord,” returned Balsamo with a smile full of amenity, “I have found introducers to all the sovereigns of Europe, all their ministers and ambassadors: but none to present me to your lordship; so I have presented myself.”

“You arrive most timely, my lord,” replied Sartines: “For I am inclined to think that if you had not called I should have had to send for you.”

“Indeed – how nicely this chimes in.”

Sartines bowed with a satirical smile.

“Am I happy enough to be useful to your lordship?” queried Balsamo.

These words were pronounced without a shade of emotion or disquiet clouding the smiling brow.

“You have travelled a good deal, count,” said the Police Chief.

“A great deal! I suppose you want for some geographical items. A man of your capacity is not cramped up in France but must embrace Europe and the world – ”

“Not geographical, my lord, but personal – ”

“Do not restrict yourself; in both, I am at your orders.”

“Well, count, just imagine that I am looking after a very dangerous man, in faith, who seems to be an atheist, conspirator, forger, adulterer, coiner, charlatan, and chief of a secret league; whose history I have on my records and in this casket, which your lordship sees.”

“I understand,” said Balsamo; “you have the story but not the man. Hang it, that seems to me the more important matter.”

“No doubt: but you will see presently how near he is to our hand. Certainly, Proct Proteon Proteus had not more shapes, Jupiter more names: Acharat in Egypt, Balsamo in Italy, Somini in Sardinia, the Marquis of Anna in Malta, Marquis Pellegrini in Corsica, and lastly, Count Fe – this last name I have not been able to make out; but I am almost sure that you will help me to it for you must have met this man in the course of your travels in the countries I have mentioned. I suppose, though, you would want some kind of description?”

“If your lordship pleases?”

“Well,” continued Sartines, fixing on the other an eye which he endeavored to make like an inquisitor’s, “he is a man of your age and stature, and bearing; sometimes a mighty nobleman distributing gold, or a charlatan seeking natural secrets, or a dark conspirator allied to the mysterious brotherhood which has vowed in darkness the death of kings and the downfall of thrones.”

“This is vague,” replied Balsamo, “and you cannot guess how many men I have met who would answer to this description! You will have to be more precise if you want my help. In the first place, which is his country by preference?”

“He lives everywhere at home.”

“But at present?”

“In France, where he directs a vast conspiracy.”

“This is a good piece of intelligence. If you know what conspiracy he directs you have one end of a clew in your hands which will lead you up to the man.”

“I am of your opinion.”

“If you believe so, why do you ask my advice? It is useless.”

“It is because I am debating whether or not to arrest him.”

“I do not understand the Not, my lord, for if he conspires – ”

“But he is in a measure protected by his title – ”

“Ah, now I follow you. But by what title? Needless to say that I shall be glad to aid you in your searches, my lord.”

“Why, sir, I told you that I knew the names he hides under but I do not know that under which he shows himself, or else – ”

“You would arrest him? Well, Lord Sartines, it is a blessed thing that I happened in as I did, for I can do you the very service you want. I will tell you the title he figures under.”

“Pray say it,” said Sartines who expected to hear a falsehood.

“The Count of Fenix.”