Fantômas

by Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain

  XXX. AN ASSIGNATION

  The final curtain had fallen upon the first performance of the new dramaat the Grand Treteau.

  The night had been one long triumph for Valgrand, and although it wasvery late the Baronne de Vibray, who plumed herself on being the greattragedian's dearest friend, had made her way behind the scenes to lavishpraise and congratulations on him, and have a little triumph of her ownin presenting her friends to the hero of the hour. In vain had Charlot,the old dresser, tried to prevent her invasion of his master'sdressing-room. He was not proof against her perseverance, and ere longshe had swept into the room with the proud smile of a general entering aconquered town. The Comte de Baral, a tall young man with a singleeyeglass, followed close in her wake.

  "Will you please announce us," he said to the dresser.

  Charlot hesitated a moment in surprise, then broke into volubleexplanations.

  "M. Valgrand is not here yet. What, didn't you know? Why, at the end ofthe performance the Minister of Public Instruction sent for him tocongratulate him! That's a tremendous honour, and it's the second timeit has been paid to M. Valgrand."

  Meanwhile the other two ladies in the party were roaming about thedressing-room: Mme. Simone Holbord, wife of a colonel of the Marines whohad just covered himself with distinction in the Congo, and the ComtesseMarcelline de Baral.

  "How thrilling an actor's dressing-room is!" exclaimed Mme. Holbord,inspecting everything in the room through her glass. "Just look at thesedarling little brushes! I suppose he uses those in making up? And, oh,my dear! There are actually three kinds of rouge!"

  The Comtesse de Baral was fascinated by the photographs adorning thewalls.

  "'To the admirable Valgrand from a comrade,'" she read in awe-strucktones. "Come and look, dear, it is signed by Sarah Bernhardt! And listento this one: 'At Buenos Ayres, at Melbourne, and New York, wherever I amI hear the praises of my friend Valgrand!'"

  "Something like a globe-trotter!" said Mme. Holbord. "I expect hebelongs to the Comedie Francaise."

  Colonel Holbord interrupted, calling to his wife.

  "Simone, come and listen to what our friend de Baral is telling me: itis really very curious."

  The young woman approached, and the Comte began again for her benefit.

  "You have come back too recently from the Congo to be up to date withall our Paris happenings, and so you will not have noticed this littletouch, but in the part that he created to-night Valgrand made himself upexactly like Gurn, the man who murdered Lord Beltham!"

  "Gurn?" said Mme. Holbord, to whom the name did not convey much. "Oh,yes, I think I read about that: the murderer escaped, didn't he?"

  "Well, they took a long time to find him," the Comte de Baral replied."As usual, the police were giving up all hope of finding him, when oneday, or rather one night, they did find him and arrested him; and wheredo you suppose that was? Why, with Lady Beltham! Yes, really: in her ownhouse at Neuilly!"

  "Impossible!" cried Simone Holbord. "Poor woman! What an awful shock forher!"

  "Lady Beltham is a brave, dignified, and truly charitable woman," saidthe Comtesse de Baral. "She simply worshipped her husband. And yet, shepleaded warmly for mercy for the murderer--though she did not succeed ingetting it."

  "What a dreadful thing!" said Simone Holbord perfunctorily; herattention was wandering to all the other attractions in this attractiveroom. A pile of letters was lying on a writing-table, and the recklessyoung woman began to look at the envelopes. "Just look at this pile ofletters!" she cried. "How funny! Every one of them in a woman's hand! Isuppose Valgrand gets all sorts of offers?"

  Colonel Holbord went on talking to the Comte de Baral in a corner of theroom.

  "I am enormously interested in what you tell me. What happened then?"

  "Well, this wretch, Gurn, was recognised by the police as he was leavingLady Beltham's, and was arrested and put in prison. The trial came on atthe Court of Assize about six weeks ago. All Paris went to it, of courseincluding myself! This man Gurn is a brute, but a strange brute, ratherdifficult to define; he swore that he had killed Lord Beltham after aquarrel, practically for the sake of robbing him, but I had a strongimpression that he was lying."

  "But why else should he have committed the murder?"

  The Comte de Baral shrugged his shoulders.

  "Nobody knows," he said: "politics, perhaps, nihilism, or perhapsagain--love. There was one fact, or coincidence, worth noting: when LadyBeltham came home from the Transvaal after the war, during which, by theway, she did splendid work among the sick and wounded, she sailed by thesame boat that was taking Gurn to England. Gurn also was a bit of apopular hero just then: he had volunteered at the beginning of the war,and came back with a sergeant's stripes and a medal for distinguishedconduct. Can Gurn and Lady Beltham have met and got to know each other?It is certain that the lady's behaviour during the trial lent itself tocomment, if not exactly to scandal. She had odd collapses in thepresence of the murderer, collapses which were accounted for in veryvarious ways. Some people said that she was half out of her mind withgrief at the loss of her husband; others said that if she was mad, itwas over someone, over this vulgar criminal--martyr or accomplice,perhaps. They even went so far as to allege that Lady Beltham had anintrigue with Gurn!"

  "Come! come!" the Colonel protested: "a great lady like Lady Beltham, soreligious and so austere? Absurd!"

  "People say all sorts of things," said the Comte de Baral vaguely. Heturned to another subject. "Anyhow, the case caused a tremendoussensation; Gurn's condemnation to death was very popular, and the casewas so typically Parisian that our friend Valgrand, knowing that he wasgoing to create the part of the murderer in this tragedy to-night,followed every phase of the Gurn trial closely, studied the man indetail, and literally identified himself with him in this character. Itwas a shrewd idea. You noticed the sensation when he came on the stage?"

  "Yes, I did," said the Colonel; "I wondered what the exclamations fromall over the house meant."

  "Try to find a portrait of Gurn in some one of the illustrated papers,"said the Comte, "and compare it with---- Ah, I think this is Valgrandcoming!"

  * * * * *

  The Baronne de Vibray had tired of her conversation with the olddresser, Charlot, and had left him to take up her stand outside thedressing-room, where she greeted with nods and smiles the other actorsand actresses as they hurried by on their way home, and listened to thesounds at the end of the passage. Presently a voice becamedistinguishable, the voice of Valgrand singing a refrain from a musicalcomedy. The Baronne de Vibray hurried to meet him, with both handsoutstretched, and led him into his dressing-room.

  "Let me present M. Valgrand!" she exclaimed, and then presented the twoyoung women to the bowing actor: "Comtesse Marcelline de Baral, Mme.Holbord."

  "Pardon me, ladies, for keeping you waiting," the actor said. "I wasdeep in conversation with the Minister. He was so charming, so kind!" Heturned to the Baronne de Vibray. "He did me the honour to offer me acigarette! A relic! Charlot! Charlot! You must put this cigarette in thelittle box where all my treasures are!"

  "It is very full already, M. Valgrand," said Charlot deprecatingly.

  "We must not keep you long," the Baronne de Vibray murmured. "You mustbe very tired."

  Valgrand passed a weary hand across his brow.

  "Positively exhausted!" Then he raised his head and looked at thecompany. "What did you think of me?"

  A chorus of eulogy sprang from every lip.

  "Splendid!" "Wonderful!" "The very perfection of art!"

  "No, but really?" protested Valgrand, swelling with satisfied vanity."Tell me candidly: was it really good?"

  "You really were wonderful: could not have been better," the Baronne deVibray exclaimed enthusiastically, and the crowd of worshippers endorsedevery word, until the artist was convinced that their praise was quitesincere.

  "How I have worked!" he exclaimed: "do you know, when rehearsalsbegan--ask Charlot if
this isn't true--the piece simply didn't exist!"

  "Simply didn't exist!" Charlot corroborated him, like an echo.

  "Didn't exist," Valgrand repeated: "not even my part. It wasinsignificant, flat! So I took the author aside and I said: 'Frantz, myboy, I'll tell you what you must do: you know the lawyer's speech?Absurd! What am I to do while he is delivering it? I'll make the speechfor my own defence, and I'll get something out of it!' And the prisonscene! Just fancy, he had shoved a parson into that! I said to Frantz:'Cut the parson out, my boy: what the dickens am I to do while he ispreaching? Simply nothing at all: it's absurd. Give his speech to me!I'll preach to myself!' And there you are: I don't want to boast, butreally I did it all! And it was a success, eh?"

  Again the chorus broke out, to be stopped by Valgrand, who wascontemplating his reflection in a mirror.

  "And my make-up, Colonel? Do you know the story of my make-up? I hearthey were talking about it all over the house. Am I like Gurn? What doyou think? You saw him quite close at the trial, Comte: what do youthink?"

  "The resemblance is perfectly amazing," said the Comte de Baral withperfect truth.

  The actor stroked his face mechanically: a new idea struck him.

  "My beard is a real one," he exclaimed. "I let it grow on purpose. Ihardly had to make myself up at all; I am the same build, the same type,same profile; it was ridiculously easy!"

  "Give me a lock of hair from your beard for a locket," said the Baronnede Vibray impudently.

  Valgrand looked at her, and heaved a profound sigh.

  "Not yet, not yet, dear lady: I am infinitely sorry, but not yet: alittle later on, perhaps; wait for the hundredth performance."

  "I must have one too," said Simone Holbord, and Valgrand with greatdignity replied:

  "I will put your name down for one, madame!"

  * * * * *

  But the Comte de Baral had looked furtively at his watch, and uttered anexclamation of surprise.

  "My good people, it is most horribly late! And our great artiste must beovercome with sleep!"

  Forthwith they all prepared to depart, in spite of the actor's courteousprotests that he could not hear of letting them go so soon. Theylingered at the door for a few minutes in eager, animated conversation,shaking hands and exchanging farewells and thanks and congratulations.Then the sound of their footsteps died away along the corridors, and theBaronne de Vibray and her friends left the theatre. Valgrand turned backinto his dressing-room and locked the door, then dropped into the lowand comfortable chair that was set before his dressing-table.

  * * * * *

  He remained there resting for a few minutes, and then sat up and threw awhimsical glance at his dresser who was putting out his ordinaryclothes.

  "Hang it all, Charlot! What's exhaustion? The mere sight of such jewelsas those enchanting women would wake one from the dead!"

  Charlot shrugged his shoulders.

  "Will you never be serious, M. Valgrand?"

  "Heavens, I hope not!" exclaimed the actor. "I hope not, for if thereis one thing of which one never tires here below, it is Woman, thepeerless rainbow that illuminates this vale of tears!"

  "You are very poetical to-night," the dresser remarked.

  "I am a lover--in love with love! Oh, Love, Love! And in my time, youknow----" He made a sweeping, comprehensive gesture, and came backabruptly to mundane affairs. "Come, help me to dress."

  Charlot offered him a bundle of letters, which Valgrand took withcareless hand. He looked at the envelopes one after another, hugelyamused.

  "Violet ink, and monograms, and coronets, and--perfume. Say, Charlot, isthis a proposal? What do you bet?"

  "You never have anything else," the dresser grumbled "--except bills."

  "Do you bet?"

  "If you insist, I bet it is a bill; then you will win," said Charlot.

  "Done!" cried Valgrand. "Listen," and he began to declaim the letteraloud: "'Oh, wondrous genius, a flower but now unclosing'---- Got it,Charlot? Another of them!" He tore open another envelope. "Ah-ha!Photograph enclosed, and will I send it back if the original is not tomy fancy!" He flung himself back in his chair to laugh. "Where is mycollar?" He picked up a third envelope. "What will you bet that thisviolet envelope does not contain another tribute to my fatal beauty?"

  "I bet it is another bill," said the dresser; "but you are sure to win."

  "I have," Valgrand replied, and again declaimed the written words: "'ifyou promise to be discreet, and true, you shall never regret it.' Doesone ever regret it--even if one does not keep one's promises?"

  "At lovers' perjuries----" Charlot quoted.

  "Drunken promises!" Valgrand retorted. "By the way, I am dying for adrink. Give me a whisky and soda." He got up and moved to the table onwhich Charlot had set decanters and glasses, and was about to take theglass the dresser offered him when a tap on the door brought theconversation to a sudden stop. The actor frowned: he did not want to bebothered by more visitors. But curiosity got the better of hisannoyance and he told Charlot to see who it was.

  Charlot went to the door and peered through a narrow opening at thethoughtless intruder.

  "Fancy making all this bother over a letter!" he growled. "Urgent? Ofcourse: they always are urgent," and he shut the door on the messengerand gave the letter to Valgrand. "A woman brought it," he said.

  Valgrand looked at it.

  "H'm! Mourning! Will you bet, Charlot?"

  "Deep mourning," said Charlot: "then I bet it is a declaration. I expectyou will win again, for very likely it is a begging letter. Black edgesstir compassion."

  Valgrand was reading the letter, carelessly to begin with, then withdeep attention. He reached the signature at the end, and then read itthrough again, aloud this time, punctuating his reading with flippantcomments: "'In creating the part of the criminal in the tragedyto-night, you made yourself up into a most marvellous likeness of Gurn,the man who murdered Lord Beltham. Come to-night, at two o'clock, _inyour costume_, to 22 rue Messier. Take care not to be seen, but come.Someone who loves you is waiting for you there.'"

  "And it is signed----?" said the dresser.

  "That, my boy, I'm not going to tell you," said Valgrand, and he put theletter carefully into his pocket-book. "Why, man, what are you up to?"he added, as the dresser came up to him to take his clothes.

  "Up to?" the servant exclaimed: "I am only helping you to get yourthings off."

  "Idiot!" laughed Valgrand. "Didn't you understand? Give me my black tieand villain's coat again."

  "What on earth is the matter with you?" Charlot asked with someuneasiness. "Surely you are not thinking of going?"

  "Not going? Why, in the whole of my career as amorist, I have never hadsuch an opportunity before!"

  "It may be a hoax."

  "Take my word for it, I know better. Things like this aren't hoaxes.Besides, I know the--the lady. She has often been pointed out to me: andat the trial---- By Jove, Charlot, she is the most enchanting woman inthe world: strangely lovely, infinitely distinguished, absolutelyfascinating!"

  "You are raving like a schoolboy."

  "So much the better for me! Why, I was half dead with fatigue, and now Iam myself again. Be quick, booby! My hat! Time is getting on. Where isit?"

  "Where is what?" the bewildered Charlot asked.

  "Why, this place," Valgrand answered irritably: "this rue Messier. Lookit up in the directory."

  Valgrand stamped impatiently up and down the room while Charlothurriedly turned over the pages of the directory, muttering thesyllables at the top of each as he ran through them in alphabeticalorder.

  "J ... K ... L ... M ... Ma ... Me ...--Why, M. Valgrand----"

  "What's the matter?"

  "Why, it is the street where the prison is!"

  "The Sante? Where Gurn is--in the condemned cell?" Valgrand cocked hishat rakishly on one side. "And I have an assignation at the prison?"

  "Not exactly, but not far off:
right opposite; yes, number 22 must beright opposite."

  "Right opposite the prison!" Valgrand exclaimed gaily. "The choice ofthe spot, and the desire to see me in my costume as Gurn, are evidenceof a positive refinement in sensation! See? The lady, and I--thecounterpart of Gurn--and, right opposite, the real Gurn in his cell!Quick, man: my cloak! My cane!"

  "Do think, sir," Charlot protested: "it is absolutely absurd! A man likeyou----"

  "A man like me," Valgrand roared, "would keep an appointment like thisif he had to walk on his head to get there! Good-night!" and carollinggaily, Valgrand strode down the corridor.

  * * * * *

  Charlot was accustomed to these wild vagaries on his master's part, forValgrand was the most daring and inveterate rake it is possible toimagine. But while he was tidying up the litter in the room, afterValgrand had left him, the dresser shook his head.

  "What a pity it is! And he such a great artiste! These women will makean absolute fool of him! Why, he hasn't even taken his gloves or hisscarf!" There was a tap at the door, and the door-keeper looked in.

  "Can I turn out the lights?" he enquired. "Has M. Valgrand gone?"

  "Yes," said the dresser absently, "he has gone."

  "A great night," said the door-keeper. "Have you seen the last editionof the _Capitale_, the eleven o'clock edition? There's a notice of usalready. The papers don't lose any time nowadays. They say it is a greatsuccess."

  "Let's look at it," said the dresser, and, glancing through the notice,added, "yes, that's quite true: 'M. Valgrand has achieved his finesttriumph in his last creation.'" He looked casually through thenewspaper, and suddenly broke into a sharp exclamation. "Good heavens,it can't be possible!"

  "What's the matter?" the door-keeper enquired.

  Charlot pointed a shaking finger to another column.

  "Read that, Jean, read that! Surely I am mistaken."

  The door-keeper peered over Charlot's shoulder at the indicated passage.

  "I don't see anything in that; it's that Gurn affair again. Yes, he isto be executed at daybreak on the eighteenth."

  "But that is this morning--presently," Charlot exclaimed.

  "May be," said the door-keeper indifferently; "yes, last night was theseventeenth, so it is the eighteenth now! Are you ill, Charlot?"

  Charlot pulled himself together.

  "No, it's nothing; I'm only tired. You can put out the lights. I shallbe out of the theatre in five minutes; I only want to do one or twolittle things here."

  "All right," said Jean, turning away. "Shut the door behind you when youleave, if I have gone to bed."

  Charlot sat on the arm of a chair and wiped his brow.

  "I don't like this business," he muttered. "Why the deuce did he wantto go? What does this woman want with him? I may be only an old fool,but I know what I know, and there have been no end of queer storiesabout this job already." He sat there meditating, till an idea tookshape in his mind. "Can I dare to go round there and just prowl about?Of course he will be furious, but suppose that letter was a decoy and heis walking into a trap? One never can tell. An assignation in thatparticular street, with that prison opposite, and Gurn to be guillotinedwithin the next hour or so?" The man made up his mind, hurriedly put onhis coat and hat, and switched off the electric lights in theexquisitely appointed dressing-room. "I'll go!" he said aloud. "If I seeanything suspicious, or if at the end of half an hour I don't see M.Valgrand leaving the house--well!" Charlot turned the key in the lock."Yes, I will go. I shall be much easier in my mind!"