He started in quest of him, and had already begun to collect proofs of Jean’s existence, when his investigations were abruptly terminated.
One morning the body of a man literally hacked in pieces was found in an old well. It was the body of Chelteux.
“A fitting close to the career of such a wretch,” said the Journal des Debats, in noting the event.
When she read this news, Mme. Blanche felt as a culprit would feel on reading his death-warrant.
“The end is near,” she murmured. “Lacheneur is coming!”
The duchess was not mistaken.
Jean had told the truth when he declared that he was not disposing of his sister’s estate for his own benefit. In his opinion, Marie-Anne’s fortune must be consecrated to one sacred purpose; he would not divert the slightest portion of it to his individual needs.
He was absolutely penniless when the manager of a travelling theatrical company engaged him for a consideration of forty-five francs per month.
From that day he lived the precarious life of a strolling player. He was poorly paid, and often reduced to abject poverty by lack of engagements, or by the impecuniosity of managers.
His hatred had lost none of its virulence; but to wreak the desired vengeance upon his enemy, he must have time and money at his disposal.