Delphi Collected Works of Maurice Leblanc (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Nine Book 17)

by Maurice Leblanc

  “This is our third interview, Dorothy. The first time, on the terrace of Roborey, you refused my offers, which was to be expected. You were ignorant of the exact value of my information; and all I could seem to you was a rather odd and disreputable person, against who you were burning to make war. A very noble sentiment which imposed on the Chagny cousins, but which did not deceive me, since I knew all about the theft of the earrings. In reality you had only one object: to get rid, in view of the great windfall you hoped for, of the most dangerous competitor. And the chief proof of that is that immediately after having denounced me you hurried off to Hillocks Manor, where you would probably find the solution of the riddle, and where I was again brought up short by your intrigues. To turn young Davernoie’s head and sneak the medal, such was the task you undertook, and I admiringly confess carried it out from beginning to end. Only... only... d’Estreicher is not the kind of man to be disposed of so easily. Escape, that sham fire, the recovery of the medal, the capture of the codicil, in short complete redress. At the present moment the four diamonds belong to me. Whether I take possession of them to-morrow, or in a week, or in a year, is of no consequence. They are mine. Dozens of people, hundreds perhaps, have been vainly searching for them for two centuries; there is no reason why others should find them now. Behold me then exceedingly rich... millions and millions. Wealth like that permits one to become honest... which is my intention... if always Dorothy consents to be the passenger of whom I told my men. One word in answer. Is it yes? Is it no?”

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “I knew what to expect,” he said. “All the same I wished to make the test... before having recourse to extreme measures.”

  He awaited the effect of this threat. Dorothy did not stir.

  “How calm you are!” he said in a tone in which there was a note of disquiet. “However you understand the situation exactly?”

  “Exactly.”

  “We’re alone. I have as pledges, as means of acting on you, the life of Montfaucon and the lives of these three bound men. Then how comes it that you are so calm?”

  She said clearly and positively:

  “I am calm because I know you are lost.”

  “Come, come,” he said laughing.

  “Irretrievably lost.”

  “And why?”

  “Just now, at the inn, after having learnt about the kidnaping of Montfaucon, I sent my three other boys to the nearest farms to bring all the peasants they met.”

  He sneered:

  “By the time they’ve got together a troop of peasants, I shall be a long way off.”

  “They are nearly here. I’m certain of it.”

  “Too late, my pretty dear. If I’d had the slightest doubt, I’d have had you carried off by my men.”

  “By your men? No...”

  “What is there to prevent it?”

  “You are afraid of them, in spite of your airs of wild-beast tamer. They’re asking themselves whether you didn’t stay here to take advantage of the secret you have stolen and get hold of the diamonds. They would find an ally in me. You would not dare to take the risk.”

  “And then?”

  “Then that’s why I am calm.”

  He shook his head and in a grating voice:

  “A lie, little one. Play-acting. You are paler than, the dead, for you know exactly where you stand. Whether I am tracked here in an hour, or whether my men end by betraying me, makes little difference. What does matter, to you, to me, is not what happens in an hour, but what is going to happen now. And you have no doubts about what is going to happen, have you?”

  He rose and standing over her, studied her with a menacing bitterness:

  “From the first minute I was caught like an imbecile! Rope-dancer, acrobat, princess, thief, mountebank, there is something in you which overwhelms me. I have always despised women... not one has troubled me in my life. You, you attract me while you frighten me. Love? No. Hate.... Or rather a disease.... A poison which burns me and of which I must rid myself, Dorothy.”

  He was very close to her, his eyes hard and full of fever. His hands hovered about the young girl’s shoulders, ready to throw her down. To avoid their grasp she had to draw back towards the wall. He said in a very low, breathless voice:

  “Stop laughing, Dorothy! I’ve had enough of your gypsy spells. The taste of your lips, that’s the potion that’s going to heal me. Afterwards I shall be able to fly and never see you again. But afterwards only. Do you understand?”

  He set his two hands on her shoulders so roughly that she tottered. However, she continued to defy him with her attitude wholly contemptuous. Her will was strained to prevent him from getting once more the impression that she could tremble in the depths of her being and grow weak.

  “Do you understand?... Do you understand?” the man stuttered, hammering her arms and neck. “Do you understand that nothing can stop it? Help is impossible. It’s the penalty of defeat. To-day I avenge myself... and at the same time I free myself from you.... When we are separated, I shall be able to say to myself: ‘Yes, she hurt me, but I do not regret it. The dénouement of the adventure effaces everything.’”

  He leant more and more heavily on the young girl’s shoulders, and said to her with sarcastic joy:

  “Your eyes are troubled, Dorothy! What a pleasure to see that! There is fear in your eyes — fear.... How beautiful they are, Dorothy! This is indeed the reward of victory — just a look like that, which is full of fear — fear of me. That is worth more than anything. Dorothy, Dorothy, I love you.... Forget you? What folly! If I wish to kiss your lips, it is that I may love you even more... and that you may love me... that you may follow me like a slave and like the mistress of my heart.”

  She touched the wall. The man tried to draw her to him. She made an effort to free herself.

  “Ah!” he cried in a sudden fury, mauling her. “No resistance, my dear. Give me your lips, at once, do you hear! If not, it’s Montfaucon who’ll pay. Do you want me to swing him round again as I did just now? Come, obey, or I’ll certainly cut across to his cell; and so much the worse for the brat’s head!”

  Dorothy was at the end of her forces. Her legs were bending. All her being shuddered with horror at this contact with the ruffian; and at the same time she trembled to repulse him, so great was her fear lest he should at once fling himself on the child.

  Her stiff arms began to bend. The man redoubled his efforts to force her to her knees. It was all over. He was nearly at his goal. But at that moment the most unexpected sight caught her eye. Behind him, a few feet away, something was moving, something which passed through the opposite wall. It was the barrel of a rifle leveled at him through the loop-hole slit.

  On the instant she remembered that Saint-Quentin had carried away from the inn an old and useless rifle without cartridges!

  She did not make a sign which could draw d’Estreicher’s attention to it. She understood Saint-Quentin’s maneuver. The boy threatened, but he could only threaten. It was for her to contrive the method by which that menace should as soon as d’Estreicher saw it directed against him, have its full effect. It was certain that d’Estreicher would only need a moment to perceive, as Dorothy herself perceived, the rust and the deplorable condition of the weapon, as harmless as a child’s gun.

  Quite clearly Dorothy perceived what she had to: to pull herself together, to face the enemy boldly, and to confuse him, were it only for a few seconds, as she had already succeeded in upsetting him by her coolness and self-control. Her safety, the safety of Montfaucon depended on her firmness. In robore fortuna, she thought.

  But that thought she unconsciously uttered in a low voice, as one utters a prayer for protection. And at once she felt her adversary’s grip relax. The old motto, on which he had so often reflected, uttered so quietly, at such a moment, by this woman whom he believed to be at bay, disconcerted him. He looked at her closely and was astounded. Never had her beautiful face worn such a serene air. Over the white teeth
the lips opened, and the eyes, a moment ago terrified and despairing, now regarded him with the quietest smile.

  “What on earth is it?” he cried, beside himself, as he recalled her astounding laughter near the pool at Hillocks Manor. “Are you going to laugh again to-day?”

  “I’m laughing for the same reason: you are lost.” He tried to take it as a joke:

  “Hang it! How?”

  “Yes,” she declared. “I told you so from the first moment; and I was right.”

  “You’re mad,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. She noticed that he had grown more respectful, and sure of a victory which rested in her extraordinary coolness and in the absolute similarity of the two scenes, she repeated:

  “You are lost. The situation really is the same as at the Manor. There Raoul and the children had gone to seek for help; and of a sudden, when you were the master, the barrel of a gun was leveled at you. Here, it is the same. The three urchins have found men. They are there, as at the Manor with their guns.... You remember? They are here. The barrels of the guns are leveled at you.”

  “You l-l-lie!” stammered the ruffian.

  “They are there,” she declared in a yet more impressive tone. “I’ve heard my boys’ signal. They haven’t wasted time coming round the tower. They are on the other side of that watt.”

  “You lie!” he cried. “What you say is impossible!”

  She said, always with the coolness of a person no longer menaced by peril, and with an imperious contempt:

  “Turn round!... You’ll see their guns leveled at your breast. At a word from me they fire! Turn round then!”

  He shrunk back. He did not wish to obey. But Dorothy’s eyes, blazing, irresistible, stronger than he, compelled him; and yielding to their compulsion, he turned round.

  It was the last quarter of the last minute.

  With all the force of her being, with a strength of conviction which did not permit the ruffian to think, she commanded:

  “Hands up, you blackguard! Or they’ll shoot you like a dog! Hands up! Shoot there! Show no mercy! Shoot! Hands up!”

  D’Estreicher saw the rifle. He raised his hands.

  Dorothy sprang on him and in a second tore a revolver from his jacket pocket, and aiming at his head, without her heart quickening a beat and with a perfectly steady hand, she said slowly, her eyes gleaming maliciously:

  “Idiot! I told you plainly you were lost’”

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE SECRET PERISHES

  THE SCENE HAD not lasted a minute; and in less than a minute the readjustment had taken place. Defeat was changed to victory.

  A precarious victory. Dorothy knew that a man like d’Estreicher would not long remain the dupe of the illusion with which, by a stroke of really incredible daring, she had filled his mind. Nevertheless she essayed the impossible to bring about the ruffian’s capture, a capture which she could not effect alone, and which would only become definite if she kept him awed till the freeing of Webster, Errington, and Marco Dario.

  As authoritative as if she were disposing of an army corps, she gave her orders to her rescuers:

  “One of you stay there with the rifle leveled, ready to fire at the slightest movement, and let the remainder of the troop go to set the prisoners free! Hurry up, now. Go round the tower. They’re to the left of the entrance — a little further on.”

  The remainder of the troop was Castor and Pollux, unless Saint-Quentin went with them, thinking it best simply to leave his rifle, model 1870, resting in the loophole and aimed directly at the ruffian.

  “They are going.... They are entering.... They are searching,” she said to herself, trying to follow the movements of the children.

  But she saw d’Estreicher’s tense face little by little relax. He had looked at the barrel of the rifle. He had heard the quiet steps of the children, so different from the row which a band of peasants would have made. Soon she no longer doubted that the ruffian would escape before the others came.

  The last of his hesitation vanished; he let his arms fall, grinding his teeth.

  “Sold!” he said. “It’s those brats and the rifle is nothing but old iron! My God, you have a nerve!”

  “Am I to shoot?”

  “Come off it! A girl like you kills to defend herself, not for killing’s sake. To hand me over to justice? Will that give you back the diamonds? I would rather have my tongue torn out and be roasted over a slow fire than divulge the secret. They’re mine. I’ll take them when I please.”

  “One step forward and I shoot.”

  “Right, you’ve won the party. I’m off.”

  He listened.

  “The brats are gabbling over yonder. By the time they’ve untied them, I shall be a long way off. Au revoir.... We shall meet again.”

  “No,” she said.

  “Yes. I shall have the last word. The diamonds first. The love affair afterwards. I did wrong to mix the two.”

  She shook her head.

  “You will not have the diamonds. Would I let you go, if I weren’t sure? But, and I’ve told you so: you are lost.”

  “Lost? And why?” he sneered.

  “I feel it.”

  He was about to reply. But the sound of voices nearer came to their ears. He leapt out of the guardroom and ran for it, bending low, through the bushes.

  Dorothy, who had darted after him, aimed at him, with a sudden determination to bring him down. But, after a moment’s hesitation, she lowered her weapon, murmuring:

  “No, no. I cannot.... I cannot. And then what good would it be? Anyhow my father will be avenged...”

  She went towards her friends. The boys had had great difficulty in freeing them, so tangled was the network of cords that bound them. Webster was the first to get to his feet and run to meet her.

  “Where is he?”

  “Gone,” she said.

  “What! You had a revolver and you let him get away?”

  Errington came up, then Dario, both furious.

  “He has got away? Is it possible? But which way did he go?”

  Webster snatched Dorothy’s weapon.

  “You hadn’t the heart to kill him? Was that it?”

  “I had not,” said Dorothy.

  “A blackguard like that! A murderer! Ah well, that’s not our way, I swear. Here we are, friends.”

  Dorothy barred their way.

  “And his confederates? There are fire or six of them besides d’Estreicher — all armed with rifles.”

  “All the better,” said the American. “There are seven shots in the revolver.”

  “I beg you,” she said, fearing the result of an unequal battle. “I beg you.... Besides, it’s too late.... They must have got on board their boat.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  The three young men set out in pursuit. She would have liked to go with them, but Mounfaucon dung to her skirt, sobbing, his legs still hampered by his bonds.

  “Mummy... mummy... don’t go away.... I was so frightened!”

  She no longer thought of anything but him, took him on her knees, and consoled him.

  “You mustn’t cry, Captain dear. It’s all over. That nasty man won’t come back any more. Have you thanked Saint-Quentin? And your comrades Castor and Pollux? Where would we have been without them, my darling?”

  She kissed the three boys tenderly.

  “Yes! Where would we have beat? Ah, Saint-Quentin, the idea of the rifle.... What a find! You are a splendid fellow, old chap! Come and be kissed again! And tell me how you managed to get to us? I didn’t miss the little heaps of pebbles that you sowed along the path from the inn. But why did you go round the marsh? Did you hope to get to the rums of the château by going along the beach at the foot of the cliffs?”

  “Yes, mummy,” replied Saint-Quentin, very proud at being so complimented by her, and deeply moved by her kisses.

  “And wasn’t it impossible?”

  “Yes. But I found a better way... on the sand, a little boat, wh
ich we pushed into the sea.”

  “And you had the courage, the three of you, and the strength to row? It must have taken you an hour?”

  “An hour and a half, mummy. There were heaps of sandbanks which blocked our way. At last we landed not far from here in sight of the tower. And when we got here I recognized the voice of d’Estreicher.”

  “Ah, my poor, dear darlings!”

  Again there was a deluge of kisses, which she rained right and left on the cheeks of Saint-Quentin, Castor’s forehead, and the Captain’s head. And she laughed! And she sang! It was so good to be alive. So good to be no longer face to face with a brute who gripped your wrists and sullied you with his abominable leer! But she suddenly broke off in the middle of these transports.

  “And Maître Delarue? I was forgetting him!”

  He was lying at the back of his cell behind a rampart of tall grasses.

  “Attend to him! Quick, Saint-Quentin, cut his ropes. Goodness! He has fainted. Look here, Maître Delarue, you come to your senses. If not, I leave you.”

  “Leave me!” cried the notary, suddenly waking up. “But you’ve no right! The enemy—”

  “The enemy has run away, Maître Delarue.”

  “He may come back. These are terrible people. Look at the hole their chief made in my hat! The donkey finished by throwing me off, just at the entrance to the ruins. I took refuge in a tree and refused to come down. I didn’t stay there long. The ruffian knocked my hat off with a bullet.”

  “Are you dead?”

  “No. But I’m suffering from internal pains and bruises.”

  “That will soon pass off, Maître Delarue. Tomorrow there won’t be anything left, I assure you. Saint-Quentin, I put Maître Delarue in your charge, And yours, too, Montfaucon. Rub him.”

  She hurried off with the intention of joining her three friends, whose badly conducted expedition worried her. Starting out at random, without any plan of attack, they ran the risk once more of letting themselves be taken one by one.

  Happily for them, the young men did not know the place where d’Estreicher’s boat was moored; and though the portion of the peninsula situated beyond the ruins was of no great extent, since they were at once hampered by masses of rock which formed veritable barriers, she found all three of them. Each of them had lost his way in the labyrinth of little paths, and each of them, without knowing it, was returning to the tower.