Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.
27 September 1018
Former’s Guild House, Mont-Havre
Dear Armand,
A most unusual thing has occurred this morning, and I felt I must inform you at once. I have written this note at Suprenant et Fils; M. Suprenant has promised to send it to you by message arrow the moment I have sealed it.
I was preparing to leave the Guild House for my morning prowl about town—there is a new café in the Rue Fontaine I wished to investigate—when there came a knock upon the door. This was nearly unprecedented. I do receive knocks, on occasion, from messenger boys bringing me letters; but never at this hour of the morning.
I sprang to the door, of course; I had the mad thought that perhaps one of my erstwhile cronies had learned of my presence and repented of his disregard. But no: before me stood an old man, quite as old as your Jacques-le-Souris, but oh how different!
He was a tall man, clad in clothes that had once been fine—not top stare, never that, but tailored and gentlemanly: a proper waistcoat and coat, and trousers that buttoned at the knee. That alone told me that he had worn them for many, many years, for no one wears such a thing in Mont-Havre nowadays except for office boys. Now, alas, they were threadbare and weather-stained, though he wore them neatly and had made an effort to keep them tidy; and I fear they hung rather loosely about him.
I opened the door, and saw him; and he saw me, and bowed slightly—for he was not at all stooped—and said, “Pardonnez. Je m’appelle Sabot. I had understood that Armand Tuppenny was in residence.”
“I am very sorry,” I said, “he is not. But perhaps I may be of service? I am his cousin, Jack Montjoy.”
The man looked down and pursed his lips, and I quickly revised my first impression; for I had been certain that the fellow was looking for a quick touch. Then a memory stirred in my head.
“Un moment, s’il vous plaît,” I said. “You are M. Sabot, yes? Late of Madame Truc’s boarding house? Please, you must come in. Your friends have been worried for you. No one has heard a word of you since Le Maréchal’s men came to Mont-Havre. We feared you were dead.”
His eyebrows rose, and he hesitated, but allowed me to draw him through the door and on through the hall into the nook in the kitchen where I take my meals.
“Be seated, please,” I said, and made haste to put the kettle on.
“Monsieur,” he began, but I raised my hand.
“M. Sabot,” I said, “I can see that you are a gentleman; and I can see that you have not been eating well for some time. Were my cousin here, he would see to the latter for Madame Truc’s sake; and as I am here by his generosity, I can do nothing less. I fear I have little to offer, for I have already consumed the morsel I had saved to break my fast; but I shall give you some coffee and then I shall make haste to the bakers. Please, do me the kindness of staying until I return.”
He made a sign of acquiescence, and sat down at the little table. I set the coffee before him in a matter of minutes, smiled at him, and went out—stopping to lock the door of my chamber on the way.
I have indeed acquired bread and other victuals, though I fear a new suit for him is beyond my means. And, of course, I have no way of discerning whether he is indeed M. Sabot, or only a sharp using his name.
Should he be M. Sabot, I know you will wish to see him as soon as may be; and should he be a sharp then I wish to cease giving him lodgings as soon as may be. So I beg of you to send someone to fetch him, or better still, to come yourself.
And now I must run.
Your importunate cousin,
Jack
____
Photo by KWON JUNHO on Unsplash
Zymurgia House 