This greatly interested the magistrate, and he asked us all if we had any reason to suppose that Bernier had a motive for committing suicide, to which Rouletabille replied that death was not necessarily the outcome of murder or suicide, and that it was quite possible to die by accident. The weapon, as he ironically called the oldest chisel in the world, was quite sufficient to explain the accident. Rouletabille could not imagine a murderer planning to commit a crime with this ancient artefact, and it seemed to him that if Bernier had wanted to kill himself, he would hardly have used a relic from the Troglodyte Age. It was more likely that Bernier, having noticed the stone on the ground, stooped to pick it up, slipped and fell on the point, which pierced his heart.
At this point, the doctor was called in again, the stone was compared with the wound, and it was established as scientific fact that the one was caused by the other. There was but a short step from this to the theory of accidental death; however, the investigators took six hours to make it. During this time they questioned us untiringly, but without result.
While the doctors were looking after Old Bob, Mrs Rance and I seated ourselves in the old gentleman’s sitting room, which had just been vacated by the magistrate and his assistants. The door of the room leading into the passage in the Square Tower was open. Through it came the wails of the widow over her husband’s remains, which had been carried into the porter’s lodge.
Notwithstanding Rouletabille’s efforts, we were made extremely uneasy by Old Bob’s mishap and by Bernier’s death: two equally inexplicable events, and the terror of what had happened seemed to superimpose itself on what was yet to come. Suddenly, Mrs Rance seized my hand.
‘Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!’ she repeated. ‘I have no one but you to help me. I don’t know where Prince Galitch is and I have no news of my husband. That is the dreadful part! He left word for me that he was going to find Tullio, but he doesn’t even know that Bernier has been murdered. Has Tullio been found? He alone, I feel sure, can explain all this. And still no news! It is awful!’
From the time that Mrs Rance took my hand in hers and held it for a moment with such trustfulness, I belonged to her body and soul, indeed I told her that she could rely upon me absolutely. This memorable conversation took place in low tones. Meanwhile, the policemen, Rouletabille and Darzac were going to and fro in the courtyard. Whenever he passed the open window, Rouletabille would glance in at us.
‘He’s watching us!’ exclaimed Mrs Rance. ‘We are in his way here, no doubt, and he and M. Darzac would be glad to see us go. But we will stay where we are, whatever happens, won’t we, M. Sainclair?’
‘We ought to be grateful to Rouletabille,’ I ventured to remark, ‘for not telling what he knew about the chisel. If the judges knew that it was your uncle who took it, who knows what that might lead to? And if they knew that Bernier had accused Larsan of his murder, the theory that it was an accident might not be so readily believed.’
‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, ‘your friend has just as good reasons as I have for keeping quiet. There is only one thing I am afraid of, yes, only one.’
‘What’s that?’
She stood up excitedly.
‘I suspect that he has saved my uncle now, only to ruin him later on.’
‘How can you believe such a thing?’ I asked incredulously.
‘I read it in your friend’s eyes just now. If I were sure that I was right, believe me, I would rather have to deal with the authorities.’
She calmed down somewhat, and seemed to be pondering then rejecting some absurd supposition. Then she added: ‘It is best to be prepared for anything, and I shall defend him unto death.’
As she said this, she showed me a small revolver hidden under her dress.
‘Oh,’ she cried, ‘why isn’t Prince Galitch here!’
‘Not again!’ I exclaimed angrily.
‘Would you really defend me?’ she asked, turning her wondrous, soul-destroying eyes upon me.
‘I would!’
‘Against everybody?’
I hesitated, and she repeated:
‘Against everybody?’
‘Yes.’
‘Against your friends?’
‘If need be,’ I answered, with a sigh, passing my hand over my forehead, on which the perspiration stood in great drops.
‘Very well, I believe you,’ she said. ‘Now I am going to leave you for a few minutes. Watch that door, for my sake.’
She pointed towards the door behind which Old Bob was resting, and hurried away.
Where was she going? She told me afterwards that she had gone in search of Prince Galitch. Ah, women, women!
She had no sooner gone than Rouletabille and Darzac came into the room. They had overheard everything. Rouletabille made no attempt to conceal from me that he was perfectly well aware of the way in which I had ‘betrayed his friendship’!
‘You put it rather strongly,’ I said. ‘You know that I am not in the habit of betraying anybody. Mrs Rance is truly to be pitied, and you don’t pity her enough.’
‘You do, too much!’
I flushed to the tips of my ears and was about to retort angrily when Rouletabille stopped me with a curt gesture.
‘I ask only one thing of you,’ he said, ‘that no matter what happens, you will never speak to M. Darzac or me again.’
‘That won’t be difficult,’ I answered irritably, and turned my back on him. As I did so, it seemed to me as if he were about to retract his angry words, but just then the magistrates came out of the New Castle and called to us. The investigation was over at last. They had reached the conclusion, after taking the doctor’s evidence, that death was due to an accident. They accordingly left the castle, and Rouletabille and Darzac accompanied them to the gate. As I leaned on the windowsill, looking out upon the courtyard of Charles the Bold, a prey to sad forebodings, and anxiously awaiting Mrs Rance’s return, while in the lodge across the hall the widow moaned incessantly, I suddenly heard the loud clang of metal, like the sound of a monster gong, and I realised that Rouletabille was closing the iron gates. A minute later, Mrs Rance came running wildly towards me as if to her only haven of refuge. Then I saw Darzac approaching, followed by Rouletabille. Leaning upon his arm was the Lady in Black.
CHAPTER XX
In which it is proved that there was a body too many
Rouletabille and the Lady in Black entered the Square Tower. Never had Rouletabille looked so serious. At any other time, his bearing might have struck us as comic, but, under such tragic circumstances, it only added to our unease. Never, surely, did a judge in ermine walk more majestically into a courtroom where a prisoner was awaiting trial.
As for the Lady in Black, she was evidently making superhuman efforts to hide her fear, but it betrayed itself in her expression and in the nervous way in which she clutched her young companion’s arm. Darzac also had the stern and sombre look of a dispenser of justice.
What impressed us most, however, was the presence of Old Jacques, Walter and Mattoni, all armed with guns. They stationed themselves in front of the door of the Square Tower, and, with military indifference, took their orders from Rouletabille to let nobody out of the Old Castle. Mrs Rance, greatly alarmed, asked the men, who were particularly devoted to her, what it all meant, and why they were on guard there, but, to my great surprise, they made no reply. Her next act was to place herself in a heroic attitude at the door leading to Old Bob’s apartments. With arms outstretched as if to bar the way, she exclaimed tremulously:
‘What do you mean to do? You’re surely not going to kill him?’
‘No,’ said Rouletabille, ‘but we are going to convict him. To make absolutely sure that none of the judges shall turn executioner, we will begin by giving up our arms, and then we will all take a solemn oath on Bernier’s body that we have no weapons concealed about our persons.’
We followed him into the room where Bernier’s widow was still moaning over his body, and there we deposited our revolvers. Mrs Ranc
e was reluctant to give up the revolver which Rouletabille knew perfectly well she was carrying, but he eventually succeeded in persuading her that it was as well for her own safety that she should be without it, and she finally surrendered it.
Again arm in arm with the Lady in Black, Rouletabille led the way into the corridor, but, to our astonishment, instead of going towards Old Bob’s sitting room, he went straight to the door of the apartment where the surplus body had been found. He opened the door with the little key to which I have already referred.
On entering the room formerly used by M. and Madame Darzac, we were greatly surprised to see M. Darzac’s drawing board. It was on his table, with the sketch on which he had been at work in Old Bob’s study in Charles the Bold’s Tower. There too were the saucer of red paint and the brush lying on it. Conspicuously placed in the centre of the table, and resting upon its blood-stained jaw, was the ‘oldest skull in the world’.
As we looked in amazement at Rouletabille, he bolted the door and, turning towards us, said in a slightly tremulous voice:
‘Ladies and gentlemen, pray be seated!’
Chairs had been placed round the table, and we sat down, feeling a growing unease, not to say apprehension. We had a presentiment that those apparently harmless drawing materials concealed the secret of a terrible crime, and the skull seemed to grin at us like Old Bob himself.
‘You will please note,’ continued Rouletabille, ‘that there is one chair too many, and consequently one person too few, Mr Arthur Rance, but we cannot wait for him any longer.’
‘He has probably, at this very moment, obtained proof of Old Bob’s innocence,’ exclaimed Mrs Rance, on whom all these preparations had great effect. ‘I hope Madame Darzac will join me in urging these gentlemen to do nothing until my husband returns.’
There was no need for the Lady in Black to intervene, for, even as Mrs Rance was speaking, we heard a great noise in the corridor and poundings upon the door, and Arthur Rance’s voice was heard shouting:
‘I’ve got the little ruby pin!’
Rouletabille opened the door.
‘Arthur Rance!’ he exclaimed. ‘Here you are at last!’
Rance seemed beside himself with excitement.
‘What’s this I hear?’ he demanded. ‘Another crime? I thought I was too late when I found the iron doors closed and heard someone praying for the dead in the Square Tower. I thought you must have executed Old Bob.’
Rouletabille (who, while Rance was speaking, had been busy bolting the door again) remarked succinctly:
‘Old Bob is alive and Bernier is dead. Please sit down.’
Rance looked in astonishment at the drawing materials and the skull, and asked:
‘Who killed him?’
Not until now did he deign to notice his wife and shake hands with her, but his eyes were fixed on the Lady in Black.
‘Before he died, Bernier accused Frédéric Larsan,’ said Darzac.
‘Do you mean that he accused Old Bob?’ interjected Rance. ‘I won’t hear of it! I admit that I did doubt my uncle’s identity for a time, but let me tell you again that I have found the ruby pin!’
I wondered what he meant by his ‘ruby pin’. Then I remembered that Mrs Rance had told us how her uncle took it from her when she was playfully pricking him with it on the night of the first murder. What possible connection could there be between the pin and Old Bob’s curious adventure? Rance did not wait to be asked, but proceeded to tell us that he had obtained the pin from Tullio. It had been used to fasten a wad of bank-notes with which Old Bob had paid Tullio for his silence about rowing him to the entrance to the cave. Tullio had waited until daybreak and then rowed off, feeling very uneasy at the non-appearance of his passenger. Rance concluded triumphantly by saying:
‘When a man gives another man a ruby pin in a boat out at sea, he can’t at the same time be in a potato sack in the Square Tower.’
‘What made you go to San Remo?’ asked Mrs Rance. ‘Did you know that Tullio was there?’
‘I got an anonymous letter giving me the man’s address.’
‘I sent you the letter,’ remarked Rouletabille casually. ‘I am most pleased by Mr Rance’s timely return,’ he went on, addressing us collectively. ‘Everyone in our party interested in my demonstration is now here, and I beg you to give me your fullest attention.’
Rance interrupted him.
‘What do you mean by saying that everyone who is interested in your demonstration is here?’
‘I mean,’ replied Rouletabille, ‘all those amongst whom Larsan is to be found.’
The Lady in Black, who had hitherto been silent, rose trembling to her feet.
‘What!’ she exclaimed, under her breath. ‘Is Larsan here now?’
‘I am sure of it,’ said Rouletabille.
There was an awful pause. None of us dared look at anyone else.
Rouletabille went on in his most judicial tones:
‘I am sure of it, and this should certainly not surprise you, Madame, since you have always thought so too. As for us, gentlemen, I think I may say that we all had the same impression that day when we had luncheon upon the terrace and were wearing our dark glasses. Apart from Mrs Rance, which one among us did not feel Larsan’s presence?’
‘You might as well put the same question to Professor Stangerson,’ interrupted Rance, ‘for if that is your argument, I don’t see why the Professor, who was at the luncheon, isn’t here now.’
‘Mr Rance!’ exclaimed the Lady in Black.
‘I’m sorry,’ rejoined Rance, in some confusion, ‘but Rouletabille should not have generalised and said “everyone in the castle”.’
‘Professor Stangerson is so far removed from us in spirit,’ said Rouletabille, with renewed solemnity, ‘that I have no need of his presence. Though Professor Stangerson has lived with us here, he has never really been one of us. Larsan has always been with us.’
This time we looked at one another askance, and the idea that Larsan might really be among us struck me as so preposterous that, quite forgetting that I was not to speak to Rouletabille, I said:
‘But there was someone else present at that luncheon who is not here.’
Rouletabille looked daggers at me, and retorted:
‘Prince Galitch, again! I’ve already told you, Sainclair, what the Prince is doing here and I can assure you that it is not the misfortunes of Professor Stangerson’s daughter that he’s interested in. Leave the Prince to his humanitarian work.’
‘That,’ I remarked, rather viciously, ‘is no argument.’
‘Just so, Sainclair, your chatter interferes with my argument.’
At this I lost my temper, and, forgetting my promise to Mrs Rance to defend Old Bob, I went on attacking the old gentleman just for the sake of putting Rouletabille in the wrong. Mrs Rance bore me a grudge for this for a long time afterwards.
‘Old Bob,’ I said deliberately, ‘was also at the luncheon, and just because a silly little ruby pin turns up, you immediately assume he is innocent. It is all very well to say that the pin proves that Old Bob was with Tullio in a boat outside a passage leading from the well to the sea, but it does not explain how Old Bob could have got through the well as he says, seeing that we found the cover fastened on the outside after he went.’
‘You mean you did!’ said Rouletabille, looking at me with unusual severity. ‘You found it closed, but I found it open. I sent you to look for Mattoni and Old Jacques, to see if you could get any information from them. When you got back you found me in Charles the Bold’s Tower where you had left me, but while you were gone, I had had time to run to the well and find it open.’
‘And to close it!’ I shouted. ‘Why did you close it? Whom did you want to mislead?’
‘You.’
He spoke with such utter scorn that the blood rushed to my face. I stood up. Everyone was looking at me, and, as I remembered the unceremonious fashion in which Rouletabille had treated me in front of Darzac earlier in the day,
I realised with a thrill of terror that all the eyes turned upon me were full of suspicion. I had an awful feeling that everyone was thinking that I might be Larsan.
I looked at one after another. Rouletabille did not flinch when my gaze met his. My eyes told him how my whole being protested against such a suspicion. My blood was on fire with fury.
‘Look here,’ I cried, ‘let’s have an end to this! If you assume that Old Bob, Professor Stangerson and Prince Galitch are all innocent, there can be no one left but ourselves here in this room. If Larsan is here, why don’t you point him out?’
The lad’s coolness got on my nerves, and forgetting my manners, I shouted:
‘Go on, who is he? Name him! You are as slow as you were at the trial!’
‘And I had good reason to be slow, did I not?’ he asked quietly.
‘Do you want to give him another chance to escape?’
‘No, this time he will not escape, I’ll stake my life on it!’
Why did he still use such a threatening tone with me? Did he really take me for Larsan? I caught the Lady in Black’s terrified gaze.
‘Rouletabille,’ I cried, almost choking, ‘you don’t think … you don’t suspect …’
Suddenly we heard a shot outside near the Square Tower and we jumped up, remembering the orders given by Rouletabille to the men to let no one leave. Mrs Rance screamed and tried to rush out, but Rouletabille, who had not moved a muscle, calmed her with a few words.
‘If they had been shooting at him,’ he said, ‘all three guns would have gone off. The single shot is merely a signal for me to begin.’ Turning to me, he added: ‘M. Sainclair, you ought to know that I never suspect anybody or anything without good reason. Larsan is here among us, and I will prove it beyond a doubt, so please sit down, keep quiet and watch me closely. On this piece of paper I shall proceed to demonstrate my theory of the surplus body.’
The Perfume of the Lady in Black Page 22