Surrender to a Stranger Read Online Free PDF Page B

“I’m old, not dead,” he grumbled irritably as he turned his attention again to his papers.
    “Actually, I have a number of matters to discuss with Citizen Julien, and would prefer to do so now,” interjected Jacqueline. As long as the old man remained in her cell, Nicolas would be unable to touch her.
    “Citizen, if you would come back in about an hour, Citizeness Doucette and I will have concluded our business and you may talk with her for as long as you like,” suggested Nicolas pleasantly. He gave Jacqueline a warning glance that told her if she dared to speak again, it would be far worse for her once they were alone.
    “Can’t do it,” said the old man as he began to write something on the paper before him. “Unfortunately, Citizeness Doucette is my only client at the Conciergerie. I have five others to see before the night is out, and they are divided among three different prisons.” He lifted up what appeared to be a note to himself, cleared his throat, and began to read: “One at La Conciergerie.” He lowered the note and looked at Nicolas. “That is here,” he informed him. He lifted the note again. “Two at La Force.” He lowered the note and looked at Jacqueline. “Not a very nice place, La Force.” He paused and looked around the cell. “Not a very nice place here, either,” he commented absently as he lifted the note again. “One at L’Abbaye.” He lowered the note and looked at the jailer, who was still standing in the doorway. “Ever work at L’Abbaye?” he inquired pleasantly.
    “Enough!” ordered Nicolas in exasperation. He reached behind the old man and yanked up his jacket and coat.
    “Two at Sainte-Pelagie,” continued Citizen Julien, obviously unimpressed by Nicolas’s outburst.
    “I will return in one hour to finish what we started,” Nicolas ground out to Jacqueline. “I trust you will be waiting for me?” he drawled sarcastically. He turned abruptly and left the cell.
    “Excitable fellow, that one,” commented the old man as he looked up from his paper. He fixed his gaze on Jacqueline. “He seems unusually fond of you.” He stared at her meaningfully.
    “Call me when you want out,” said Gagnon as he closed and locked the door.
    “Now then, Citizeness, what can I do for you today?” asked Citizen Julien brightly as he set a clean sheet of paper before him and dabbed his quill in the pot of ink.
    “If you cheat me, I promise you will regret it,” stated Jacqueline in a warning tone. She had heard stories of dishonest agents who made a comfortable living by simply keeping the valuables they collected from their condemned clients. It was bad enough they were living off the misery of others, but then to charge prisoners for services they had no intention of rendering, and to sell or discard the last precious items bequeathed to their loved ones, was utterly despicable.
    “Citizeness, er…” The old man paused to squint at his note, “Doucette, you need have no fear of my integrity. You may mount the steps to the guillotine with complete peace of mind, confident that your last wishes will be carried out to the letter,” he told her with pride.
    “Very well,” conceded Jacqueline. She stood in the middle of the cell and thought for a moment.
    The old man sat poised at the table waiting for her instructions. The boy Dénis, who like Gagnon was covered with years of grime, made himself more or less comfortable by sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. His loose, dark trousers, short, coarse jacket, and red cap was the typical outfit of the new sansculottes, revolutionaries who scorned the tight, knee-length breeches and long jackets aristocratic gentlemen had favored for most of the century. He folded his arms and closed his eyes, evidently undisturbed by the filth around him.
    “Since our honorable Republic has, in its infallible wisdom, decided to confiscate all of my father’s investments, including my home and everything in it, my