Mignon (8 page)

“Me boy, it does you credit.”

But when he found out I’d already written the letter, he balked and demanded to see it. I said: “Mr. Burke, naturally I’d like your judgment, and I’d show it to you gladly, except for one thing: If I don’t help Mr. Landry, if I actually worsen his case, you’re the one hope he’ll have to undo what I’ve done. But in that case, you must be able to say you had nothing to do with the letter, didn’t even see it. And, naturally, you wouldn’t say so if it weren’t actually true.”

“... Naturally not.”

“
But
, I’m reading it to them first.”

“Reading to whom? And why?”

“To that bunch up there—those officers, up at headquarters. As a way of playing it safe, to see how it goes. If I’ve hit a sour note then I can tear it up, and perhaps you’ll step in. But I think you ought to be there.”

What I actually thought was: He dared not
not
be there. He stared, while the rheum in his eyes glittered, and then said: “Me boy, I find this peculiar.”

“But if you don’t want to go, Mr. Burke—”

“I must, but ... What does this letter say?”

“What can it say? ‘Please sir, let him out.’ ”

He asked more questions, but now that I knew he would come, I was gaining nerve, and gave him open-faced answers. In the end he had no choice and picked up his hat and coat. Outside I called up a hack, but as we got in he told the driver: “We’re taking another passenger—stop at Lavadeau’s costume shop.”

At Lavadeau’s, he hopped out and ducked inside, I suspected to find out what she knew about it. When he came out she was with him, her eyes big question marks. I had hopped out by that time too, and as we stood on the banquette I told her: “Mrs. Fournet, I hope you approve this thing I’m about to attempt—it’ll be nice if all of us pull together. But, whether you approve or not, as counsel I must do as I think best. It’s my responsibility.”

“Well, since I don’t know what you’re doing—”

“You will, all in due time.”

We both sounded cold, and he apparently didn’t twig that we were doing an act. When he’d handed her into the cab and taken his place beside her, I took the facing seat, so her eyes could rove my face. They had a fishy look, or a good imitation thereof. At headquarters, he was for holding things up until we could get an order for the guard to fetch Mr. Landry, but that was completely forgotten when Olsen stepped out of the wire office. “We can’t have the press in this,” Burke roared in a kind of panic. “ ’Twould ruin us, me boy—the General makes the announcements! ’Tis how the thing is done!”

She said stuff of a similar kind, taking cue as I looked at her, but I shrugged it off. “Olsen’s all right,” I said. “He’ll give us a fair report.”

Then I led the way upstairs.

D
AN DORSEY WAS SURPRISED AT
the visitation, as I hadn’t given him any notice, but sat us down politely, and when I told him what we were there for sent the orderly out for more chairs, then went across the hall himself and came back with Major Jenkins. We had the pleasantries, including introductions to Mignon. Then I said to the officers: “Gentlemen, as Mr. Landry’s counsel, I’ve decided to make an appeal, a man-to-man thing, to the Commanding General himself, asking the release of a citizen who’s broken no law, who’s not even charged yet, who’s done nothing whatever but help those very boys, discharged Confederate vets, this Army is trying to reconstruct.”

“One moment,” said the major. “If this is an appeal for clemency, it can’t be from nothing—has to be from something, the verdict of a court. But no verdict’s been rendered yet. And if he’s going to plead, as you indicated he would, how can he make an appeal from his own admission of guilt? I find myself confused.”

“It’s an appeal to reason. To ordinary sense.”

“On the basis of the evidence?”

“Now you’ve got it, Major.”

“Evidence is for a court to pass upon.”

“Major, the Commanding General’s supreme, even overriding a court, certainly overriding you. Do you presume to decide what letters he may receive?”

That calmed things down somewhat, but my eye crossed hers and, perhaps thinking she saw a cue, she cut in, pretty sharp: “Just a moment! I want our lawyer in this!”

“Certainly,” I said. “I mean to consult him, of course. But first I want to read my letter to these gentlemen, for phraseology, so your father has the benefit—”

“Then revise for final submission?” asked Dan.

“That’s it—with the lawyer’s help.”

“Then all right,” she said.

I glanced around, and everyone looked worried, each for a different reason, except Olsen, who seemed bored and to whom no one was paying attention. It was just about how I wanted it. I started reading the letter, and to the preliminaries like “your attention is respectfully invited,” they hardly seemed to be listening. At my first real point, “intent is the heart of this case,” the major yawned openly. But then suddenly he leaned forward, as very quietly I read: “While we don’t deny that Mr. Landry shipped the shoes, or that some of them may have reached Taylor, we do insist that no proof has been brought that Mr. Landry foresaw this result, or in any way connived at it, and we emphatically take exception to the principle that a man can be held criminally responsible for acts the enemy commits. We would think it passing strange, esteemed Sir, if the President of our country placed you under arrest every time a Confederate guerrilla captured a few supplies.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” said the major.

“That’s getting kind of personal,” said Dan.

“I want our lawyer,” Mignon exploded.

“Then go get him,” I told her.

She didn’t move, of course, and the major barked at me: “You know what’s good for you, you’ll take the General out.”

“Who’s writing this letter?” I asked him.

“Bill!” said Dan. “You want our help or not?”

“On phraseology,” I said. “Technicalities.”

A chill crept in, and I gave it a moment to settle, knowing that after what I’d read no one was walking out. I went on: “Once intent be fairly examined, it becomes inconceivable that Mr. Landry would have acted disloyally. His record of cooperation with the Army of the Gulf in its policy of humane reconstruction, through his purchases of cotton from those whom reconstruction tries to reach, his resale through a partner acceptable to the Army of the Gulf, his cheerful disbursements to Army personnel to expedite cotton shipment—”

“I’ll take that letter!” snapped the major.

“I haven’t submitted it yet.”

“You’re practically alleging graft, and I warn you, once you registered as this man’s counsel, you became subject to martial law, and I’ll not hesitate to charge you.”

“With what?” I asked.

“Insubordination. Give me that letter.”

“Well,” I said, seeming to think things over, “it may save time, at that. Olsen has his copy, and as submission takes care of him, by putting it on the record—”

At last he saw the trap I was working him into, and when I extended the letter to him pulled back as from a red-hot poker. He jumped up, and kept retreating as I followed him around the room, holding the letter at him. I said, very coldly, as I went: “Tell me some more about martial law—and I’ll tell you more about graft.”

I’d been wondering when Burke would break, and now, sure enough, he did, blurting out: “May I answer the scut, Major?” And then, to me: “If one dime has ever been paid, be Adolphe Landry or me, to anyone in this Army, I hope you’ll tell me when. Come on, me boy, speak up!”

“Yesterday,” I said. “Glad you asked me.”

“... Yesterday, is it? To whom?”

“Our handsome friend here—the major.”

After a long, bellowing pause: “ ’Tis a lie, Cresap! Your own filthy fabrication!” Then, after another bellowing pause: “How much?”

“One hundred dollars, Mr. Burke.”

“Why—that’s ridiculous,” said the major.

But there was no steam in it, and I took my time getting out my torn bill and waving it around. To Burke I said: “You’ll observe it’s the same torn C-note you offered me yesterday morning, in my suite at the St. Charles Hotel, to act as Mr. Laundry’s counsel—the same C-note I declined until I’d done something to earn it.” Then suddenly I wheeled on the major and said: “And
you
’
ll
observe it’s the same C-note you paid Mr. Lucan with to deliver booze to your billet.” And to all and sundry I said: “You’ll observe it’s the same C-note I bought off Mr. Lucan for a hundred and one dollars, ‘to have a big bill in my poke, to impress my friends with.’ I hope you’re all impressed.”

I took my time returning the bill to my wallet, and was startled when a fist shook under my nose. As I jerked back Burke yelled: “Scut! Liar! ’Tis no appeal you’re making, to reason or anything else! ’Tis a bold bid for scandal, and I’ll not listen to’t!” Then to her: “Lass! Come! Please! We must be going!” With that he broke for the door, but my stick got in his way, somehow slipping between his legs, so he sprawled on the floor. Big as he was, I jerked him up by the collar and flung him back in his chair. “Suppose you stay,” I said. “You may be wanted to answer questions.”

Orderlies gathered, the one on duty at the door and a couple from other offices. Dan dismissed them, brushed off Burke’s trousers, and poured him a glass of water. Olsen was watching me, all excited now, and she was eyeing me too, as though not to miss any cue. But I was studying the major as he sat in a state of collapse, to figure how to handle him. He presented a problem. I’d smashed him all right, but my danger was, if I pressed my advantage too much, he’d begin lunging back and land us all in the soup, still hotter soup than this was, as of now. I wanted to put him together again, give him some self-respect, so the next blast I set off would blow him back to my side more or less in one piece, instead of slamming him around loose, wholly out of control. So, as he wiped his brow with his handkerchief, I said: “Major, I’d like to clear something up.
You
used the word graft, I didn’t. You scaled this charge down on humane grounds, and in that case a little champagne, in appreciation for your kindness, was no more than decent manners.”

“The whole thing’s a lie!” roared Burke.”

“I’ve admitted nothing,” growled the major.”

“It could have meant nothing,” I said. “
Had
it.”

“... What the hell are you getting at now?”

“Major,” I said, very quietly, “you were a dupe. Far from giving a gift in appreciation of humane conduct, this man was using you to subvert the Army’s processes against an innocent man—”

“ ’Tis another lie!” screamed Burke.

“What motive could he have?” asked the major.

I ticked it off for him, the bearing it had on the partnership as an asset, but he cut me off pretty quick. “Naturally,” he said, “any Reb in a godpappy case takes a chance with his partner, but how could a plea profit Burke?”

“It would wind the case up at once.”

“At that, it’s better for Landry than prison. And what proof do you have that that’s what Burke was up to? My God, we can’t go on suspicion alone!”

“I have proof. You were made a sucker of.”

“What proof? In heaven’s name, say!”

“Burke wrote the informer notes.”

“Oh come, come, come!”

“You don’t believe it, Major? I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t been compelled. But you will believe it if you’ll be kind enough to get the latest note, the one that came in this morning naming Rod Purrin of the steamer
Nebraska
and telling how the shoes were shipped as Christmas gifts.”

His jaw dropped, and at last he turned on Burke with a venomous look. He went out and came back with the same old envelope I’d seen on Mardi Gras. He undid the tapes, took out a sheet of the same cheap paper, and laid it on the table. It showed printing that read:

FEBY 10, 1864

GENL SIR:

ROD PURN NEBRASKA MATE PUT SHOES ASHUR MORGANZA IN GOONY SECS LIKE ADOLPHE LANDRY PUT THEM UP FOR HIM HE TELL NEBRASKA CAPIN WAS XMAS GIFFS FOR REB CHILLERN GENL SIR YOU DON HAF BLEE ME ASK CAPIN GOOL HE TELL YOU ABAT IT BUT TALOR HE GOT SHOES MORE SOON GENL

LORL PATRIOT

“Fine,” I said, as everyone stepped up to read. “Now have a look at this—that I fished out of Burke’s wastebasket, seven forty-five last night.” And I put down my pasted-up scraps, which I had folded in my pocket. They read:

February 10, 1864

FEBY 10, 1864

General Sir:

GENL SIR
:

Rod Purrin the
Nebraska
mate put the shoes ashore at

ROD PURN NEBRASKA MATE PUT SHOES ASHUR

Morganza in gunny sacks like Adolphe Landry put

MORGANZA IN GOONY SECS LIKE ADOLPHE LANDRY PUT

them up for him. He told the
Nebraska
captain they

THEM UP FOR HIM HE TELL NEBRASKA CAPIN WAS

were Christmas gifts for Reb children. General sir,

XMAS GIFTS FOR REB CHILDREN GENL SIR

you don’t have to believe me. Ask Captain Gould, he’ll

YOU DON HAF BLEE ME ASK CAPIN GOOL HE

tell you about it, but Taylor he got the shoes. More

TELL YOU ABAT IT BUT TALOR HE GOT SHOES MORE

soon, General.

SOON GENL

Loyal Patriot

LORL PATROT

“You win,” said the major, sitting down very heavily.

“Then,” I said, putting my exhibit back in my pocket, “if you’ll have the prisoner brought and sign an order for his release, I’ll tear up my letter to the General and forget the whole unfortunate incident.”

“... Afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why not, Major?”

“Identification of the informer puts a new light on the case, that’s true. It doesn’t change the evidence.”

“Your evidence is worthless. It proves nothing.”

“That’s up to a court to decide.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s up to you to decide.”

He looked startled, and I went on: “In the absence of habeas corpus, the Judge Advocate says if his evidence sustains the specification of a charge. I say your evidence doesn’t.”