Chapter 13: The Pursuit Intensifies
Raoul had not been prepared for the sheepish reaction from the policemen, when he had asked whether the fugitives had been located yet. One of the men had coughed, then casually gotten up from his desk, and sauntered out of the room. Two others had looked away, obviously embarrassed, and began to concentrate fiercely on filling their pipes with tobacco.
Raoul was totally bewildered. 'But where have they disappeared to?" His tone betrayed his rising anger and disappointment.
"Monsieur," the commissary answered at last. "We do not know at present. They have, quite simply, vanished into the night."
"Gentlemen!" Raoul's impatience had risen to new heights. "Am I to believe that the Parisian police really does deserve its reputation for ineptitude? The Phantom and Mademoiselle Daae must be found! This man is a murderer! You have witnesses, do you not?"
"Monsieur," the commissary replied, his voice taking on an icy tone. He knew he had to be careful whenever he spoke with a member of the aristocracy, but felt honor-bound to defend his men. "You will not presume to lecture either myself or my officers on proper police procedure. Do you understand?"
"Indeed I do!" Raoul's tone had now become contemptuous. "I cannot hope to make you fools into capable policemen, but, if you are interested, I have information that might be useful to you. My man here, Monsieur Bonvivant, has gathered it for me."
The commissary had to swallow the curses he had been about to fling at the young man, fancy aristocrat or not. He harrumphed loudly.
"Very well, Monsieur. Let us see this information."
The policemen who had, a few seconds before, been concentrating on filling their pipes, suddenly sat up with new interest, and then got out of their seats to stand, one on each side of the commissary. One of them began twirling his long, thick mustache. They both peered at the document in the commissary's hands.
The commissary read briefly, then looked up at Raoul. "You are sure of this information, Monsieur?"
Hearing this, the dedective puffed in indignation. "Monsieur le commissaire," he said, hissing through his teeth, "do you know who I am?"
The commissary, unimpressed, dismissively ran his gaze over him. "No," he admitted, quite frankly.
The detective's chest puffed out. He felt deflated. Still, he persisted. "Well, if does not matter if you do not. I can assure you that I am one of the best and most reliable detectives in Paris. I always manage to obtain the information deemed most important by my clients. The Vicomte here hired me upon the highest recommendations, from very prestigious clients, I can assure you. Why, one of them even knows the Duke of Levremonde himself!"
With that, Bonvivant drew himself up proudly. "Every word in that document is factual, sir. I have access to excellent informants, you see."
"And who might those be?" The commissary continued to stare at him, trying hard not to show his amusement and contempt.
"Sir!" Bonvivant was clearly offended. "A professional such as myself never reveals the identity of his sources!"
"They are undoubtedly handsomelhy paid off, naturally," was the commissary's sardonic reply.
His remark was met with a silent glare from the detective.
Raoul could stand this no longer. "Are you quite ready, Monsieur, to take up the chase again? Surely you will accept my detective's information. We are wasting time here!"
The commissary turned a dour look upon him. "Very well, Vicomte. We leave right now. We will be sure to keep you informed....."
"Oh, but I am coming with you, monsieur," Raoul said firmly.
The commissary took one look at the young man's face, and wisely decided not to argue with him. He was, after all, a friend of the aristocracy, however corrupt they might be. One did not quarrel with those who paid one's salary, after all.