Papillon (29 page)

That was my last try. I would never discuss escape with anyone again.

That afternoon the chief warden came walking by. He stopped, looked at me and asked, “How are you?”

“O.K., but I’d be better off if I had my gold pieces.”

“Why?”

“Because then I could pay for a lawyer.”

“Come with me.”

He took me into his office. We were alone. He held out a cigar—not a bad one at all—and lit it for me. Things were getting better and better.

“Do you know enough Spanish to talk to me? We’ll talk very slowly.”

“All right.”

“Good. You say you want to sell your twenty-six pieces?”

“No, my thirty-six pieces.”

“Ah, yes; yes! And with this money you will pay for a lawyer? But only the two of us know you have these pieces.”

“No, there’s the sergeant and the five men who arrested me and the assistant warden who took them from me before giving them to you. Then there is my consul.”

“Well, good. It’s better if lots of people know. Then everything is out in the open. You know, I did you a great favor. I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t even try to find out if there had been a theft of gold pieces in the places you passed through.”

“But you should have.”

“No, for your sake, it was better not to.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You want me to sell them for you?”

“For how much?”

“Oh, three hundred pesos each—that’s the price you said they paid you for three of them. You give me a hundred pesos apiece for the favor I did you. What do you say?”

“No. You give me back the pieces ten at a time, and I’ll give you two hundred instead of a hundred apiece. That should pay you back for what you’ve done for me.”

“Frenchie, you’re much too clever. I’m only a poor Colombian officer. I’m stupid and too trusting. You’re smart and, as I said already, too clever.”

“O.K., then, make me a reasonable offer.”

“Tomorrow I’ll have the buyer come here to my office. He looks the pieces over, he makes an offer, and we go fifty-fifty. It’s that or nothing. I send you off to Barranquilla with the gold pieces, or I keep them here for the investigation.”

“No, this is my last offer: the man comes here, looks the pieces over, and everything over three hundred and fifty pesos each goes to you.”

“Good enough. I give you my word. But where are you going to keep all this money?”

“The minute you get the money, you get the Belgian consul to come here. I’ll give it to him to pay my lawyer.”

“No, I don’t want any witnesses.”

“There’s no risk in it for you. I’ll sign on the dotted line that you gave me back my thirty-six pieces. You better accept the proposition, and if you’re straight with me, I’ll make you still another.”

“What is it?”

“Trust me. It’s as good as the other one, and this time we go fifty-fifty.”

“What is it? Tell me.”

“No, not now. Just do your best tomorrow, and at five o’clock, when my money is safe in the hands of the consul, I’ll tell you about it.”

Our interview had been a long one. When, very pleased with myself, I returned to the yard, my friends had already gone back to the cell.

“Well, what goes on?”

I repeated the whole conversation. We laughed like crazy in spite of our bleak situation.

“What a fox that
mec
is! But you beat him. You think he’ll go for it?”

“I’ll bet you one hundred pesos against two hundred that he does. Any takers?”

“No, I think he will too.”

I thought long and hard the whole night. The first proposal was okay. The second was okay too—he would be only too happy to recover the pearls. The third: what about the third? All right, I’d offer him everything I’d got back if he’d let me steal a boat in the harbor. I could buy the boat with the money in my
plan
. We’d see how well he could resist that temptation. Was I running too great a risk? Hell, after the first two propositions, he couldn’t even punish me. But we’d have to see. Don’t count your chickens, etc. I could wait until Barranquilla. But why? Bigger city, therefore bigger prison, therefore more guards and higher walls. I should go back and live with Lali and Zoraima: I must escape quickly, spend a few years with the Indians, then go up into the mountains with the tribe that keeps its cattle there and make contact with the Venezuelans. This
cavale
must succeed at all costs. I spent the whole night figuring out the third proposal.

The next day things moved fast. At nine o’clock they came for me to see a man in the chief warden’s office. The police stayed outside. I found myself in front of a man of almost sixty wearing a gray suit and a gray tie. On the table was a large gray felt cowboy hat. A large silvery gray-blue pearl was imbedded in his tie as if in a jewel case. Thin and dry, the man was not without a certain elegance.

“Good morning.”

“Do you speak French?”

“Yes, I’m originally from Lebanon. I hear you have some gold pieces in one-hundred-peso denominations. I’m interested. Would you take five hundred for each?”

“No, six hundred and fifty.”

“You’ve been misinformed, sir! The maximum price per piece is five hundred and fifty.”

“Listen, if you’ll take them all, I’ll give them to you for six hundred.”

“No, five hundred and fifty.”

To cut it short, we agreed on five hundred and eighty. Sold.

The warden spoke up, in Spanish. “What did you say? How did it go?”

“Chief, we struck a bargain at five hundred eighty. The sale will take place at noon.”

The man left.

The warden stood up and said, “All right. How much for me?”

“Two hundred fifty apiece. See, I’m giving you two and a half times what you asked for.”

He smiled and said, “What about the other matter?”

“The consul has to come for the money first. This afternoon, when he’s gone, I’ll tell you about the second proposition.”

“You mean it when you say there’s a second proposition?”

“You have my word.”

“It better be.”

The consul and the Lebanese were there at two o’clock. The latter gave me 20,880 pesos. I gave the consul 12,600 and the chief warden 8,280. I signed a receipt for the warden showing he had given me back my thirty-six gold pieces. When they’d gone, I told the warden about my meeting with the Mother Superior.

“How many pearls did you have?”

“Between five and six hundred.”

“That woman’s a thief. She should have given them back to you, or sent them here, or turned them over to the police. I’m going to expose her.”

“No. Go see her and give her a letter from me written in French. But before you mention the letter, ask her to send for the Irish nun.”

“I get it. The Irish nun will read the letter in French and translate it for the Mother Superior. Very good. I’m off.”

“Hey! Wait for the letter!”

“Right! José, get the car ready. And I want two policemen,” he called through the half-open door.

I sat down at the warden’s desk and wrote the following letter on prison stationery:

“When God led me to your house where I thought I would receive the help which is owed the persecuted according to Christian law, I entrusted you with a sack of pearls that belonged to me as a pledge that I wouldn’t run away. Some vile creature thought it his or her duty to expose me to the police who promptly arrested me on your premises. I hope that the miserable soul who committed this deed is not one of the daughters of God in your house. To tell you that I forgive this vicious soul would be a lie. On the contrary, I pray to God that He will punish whoever was capable of such a monstrous crime. I ask you to give Warden Cesario the bag of pearls I entrusted to you. I know he will return it to me faithfully. This letter will serve as a receipt. Sincerely yours, etc.”

The convent was five miles from Santa Marta; the car was back in an hour and a half. The warden sent for me. “Here they are. Count them—see if any are missing.”

“I think they’re all here.”

“You’re sure none are missing?”

“I’m sure. Tell me what happened.”

“When I arrived at the convent, the Mother Superior was in the courtyard. With the two policemen at my side, I said to her, ‘Perhaps you can guess the serious matter that has brought me here. I wish to talk to the Irish sister in your presence.’”

“Then what?”

“The sister trembled as she read your letter to the Mother Superior. The Mother Superior said nothing. She looked down, opened the drawer of her desk and said, ‘Here is the bag of pearls, untouched. May God forgive the person who committed this terrible crime. Tell Henri that we pray for him.’ That was all there was to it!” The warden beamed with satisfaction.

“When do we sell the pearls?”

“Tomorrow. I won’t ask you where they came from. I know you’re a murderer, but I also know that you’re a man of your word. Here, please take this ham, the bottle of wine and the French bread. I want you to celebrate this red-letter day with your friends.”

I arrived in our cell with a two-quart bottle of Chianti, a smoked ham weighing a good eight pounds and four long loaves of French bread. We had a feast.

“Do you think a lawyer will be able to help us?”

I burst out laughing. The poor idiots. Even they had fallen for the business about the lawyer.

“I don’t know. We have to study the situation, get some advice, before we give anybody any money.”

“The best thing would be to pay only if the lawyer gets us off,” Clousiot said.

“Good idea. We’ll have to find a lawyer who’ll go along with that.” I said no more. I felt a little ashamed.

The Lebanese came back the next day. “It’s very complicated,” he said. “First, we have to classify the pearls according to size, color and shape—whether round or baroque.” And, in addition, the Lebanese said he’d have to bring along another, more competent buyer. It took us four days. He paid thirty thousand pesos. At the last moment I took back a pink pearl and two black ones to give to the wife of the Belgian consul. They told me that those three pearls alone were worth at least five thousand, but I took them all the same.

The Belgian consul made a great to-do about accepting the pearls, but he agreed to keep the fifteen thousand pesos for me. So I was now in possession of over twenty-seven thousand pesos. All I had left to do was set up the third deal.

“Warden, how much would you have to pay to buy a business that would earn you more than you get now?”

“A good business would cost me between forty-five and sixty thousand pesos.”

“Then why don’t you go into business?”

“I haven’t got half enough capital.”

“Listen, Warden. This is my third proposition.”

“You’re not playing games with me?”

“I’m not, believe me. You want my twenty-seven thousand pesos? They’re yours for the asking.”

“How so?”

“Make it possible for me to escape.”

“Look, Frenchie. I know you don’t trust me. Maybe you were right before. But you’ve helped me out of the poverty I lived in, I’m able to buy a house, send my children to private school … Now I’m your friend. I don’t want to rob you or see you killed, so I’ll give it to you straight: here there’s nothing more I can do for you, not for all the money in the world. I can’t help you escape with any hope of success.”

“And what if I prove you’re wrong?”

“Then we’ll see. But think about it first.”

“Warden, do you know any fishermen?”

“Yes.”

“Could you get one of them to sell me his boat and take me out to sea?”

“I don’t know.”

“What would a boat be worth?”

“Two thousand pesos.”

“How would it be if I gave the fisherman seven thousand and you twenty thousand?”

“Frenchie, ten thousand is enough for me. Keep something for yourself.”

“Will you make the arrangements?”

“Are you going alone?”

“No.”

“How many then?”

“Let me talk to my friends.”

I was astonished at the change in his attitude. Despite his sinister face, there were good things hidden in the bottom of his heart.

I talked to Clousiot and Maturette in the yard. They said they’d go with me, whatever I decided. The way they put their lives in my hands gave me deep satisfaction. I would never take advantage of their faith; I would always be prudent—it was a great responsibility. But I had to tell our other companions. We were just finishing a domino tournament. It was almost nine. I called out “Coffee!” and we were served six hot ones.

“I’ve got to talk to you. This is the way things are. I think I’m going to be able to get away on a
cavale
. But unfortunately only three of us can go. The natural thing is for me to go with Clousiot and Maturette because we escaped from the
bagne
together. If any of you don’t like this, speak up. I’m listening.”