"I'll take you to the Archives," replied Renard.
"Our careers as policemen are effectively over, Jacques," predicted Commissioner Mifroid. "We have erred dramatically by concluding Morrell was dead. All we can do is salvage some semblance of honor by arresting Morrell before he can butcher any more women. We don't have much time. An order has come down from the President himself. If we don't prove within forty-eight hours that Lucille Lutien was strangled by someone other than Morrell, both you and I will be forced to resign."
"It's impossible that Morrell wasn't responsible," declared Lefevre. "My subordinate, Cardec, has a potential lead. He will soon be joining us."
Lefevre was working under an incredible strain. He held himself totally responsible for the death of Francine's sister. He was haunted by the realization that his own apparent negligence was jeopardizing the careers of others. An unsigned letter of resignation recommending Cardec as his replacement lay locked inside a desk drawer in his office.
Five minutes later, Cardec entered Mifroid's office. He briefed his superiors on his findings.
"In the past, Morrell supported himself financially by selling his paintings without a signature through an accomplice. I suspect that Morrell has modified his methods. Now his accomplice pretends to be the painter. "
"Who is this accomplice, Cardec?" asked Mifroid.
"I interviewed three distinguished art critics. I asked every one of them if there were any painters currently active with a style resembling Morrell. They all gave the same name: Hastur d'Ys."
"The so-called Masked Artist," observed Mifroid, "and the mistress of the Duc de Carineaux. We must tread carefully, my colleagues. We have already incurred the wrath of the political Left. We can't spark the displeasure of the Right as well. The Duc is a prominent monarchist and a close friend of the President."
"I know exactly what to do," claimed Lefevre. "I shall appeal to the Duc's political prejudices to gain his cooperation. All we need to do is have Mademoiselle d'Ys openly demonstrate her talents as painter."
"The masked angle intrigues me," said Mifroid. "What color are the Masked Artist's eyes, Inspector?"
"Blue."
"And Morrell's?"
"Blue."
"Are both Morrell and d'Ys the same height?"
"Yes, Commissioner," confirmed Lefevre. "They both even have slender physiques, but the idea that Morrell has disguised himself as the Duc's lover is utterly absurd."
"Nevertheless, I insist that this Masked Artist undergo a physical examination to disprove my supposedly absurd speculation. Surely you have a female employee capable of performing such an examination."
"Darlla Rassendyll, Commissioner."
In her private bedroom, Hastur d'Ys was giving a demonstration of her newly acquired dancing skills. She was wearing her red costume. A knock on the door interrupted her dance.
"Georges, I gave strict orders that we weren't to be disturbed!" yelled the Duc.
"I'm sorry, Your Grace, but Inspector Lefevre is downstairs. He insists upon seeing you and Mademoiselle d'Ys immediately."
Hastur quickly put her black robe over her dancing costume. She didn't bother to remove her cap and flowing veil. Her black hood covered them.
She was disturbed by Lefevre's presence. Had he deduced that she was Lucille's killer? Was he here to arrest her?
In the living room, the Duc and Hastur were met by Lefevre, Cardec and Darlla.
"My apologies for interrupting you, Your Grace," said Lefevre. "I need your assistance. As you are aware, certain unscrupulous journalists and politicians are seeking to exploit the tragedy of Lucille Lutien for political advantage."
"Those pious Leftists!" exclaimed the Duc. "Ever since they won the parliamentary elections last year, they've done nothing but call for the President's resignation."
"I fear that the Leftists may be turning their libelous attention towards you," claimed Lefevre. "Your prominence as a supporter of the President may drag you into the unfounded speculations of Trottier and his ilk. A rumor has begun to spread. It is only a matter of time before the Leftists publicize it. The allegation is that Mademoiselle d'Ys is a fraud. She never painted the works attributed to her. The real artist is Gaston Morrell."
"I have personally seen Mademoiselle d'Ys paint," stated the Duc.
"It would take more than your word, Your Grace, to quell this rumor. My colleagues and I must witness Madame d'Ys at work. We can then leak to the rightwing press that Mademoiselle d'Ys was unquestionably cleared."
"Then let us all go to the room reserved to be my studio," suggested Hastur.
After an hour at the easel, Hastur put the finishing strokes on the portrait before her. "It isn't my best work because I rushed it, but I think that I did catch Mademoiselle Rassendyll's likeness." Hastur had chosen Darlla as a model because the policewoman's hair was reminiscent of Lucille's.
"You have quashed the vile assertion that Morrell is the true author of your paintings," admitted Lefevre. "However, there is another rumor even more vile. The rumor is that you are Gaston Morrell in disguise. In order to dispel that bizarre theory, it is necessary that Mademoiselle d'Ys submit to a physical examination by Mademoiselle Rassendyll."
"This is absurd!" protested the Duc. "I refuse to permit it."
"Your Grace, I have no objection to having Mademoiselle Rassendyll examine me,” said Hastur. “Let us dispel this falsehood once and for all."
"Gentlemen, we should go outside," suggested Lefevre, "while the examination is conducted."
The men weren't summoned back into the room until ten minutes later. Hastur was wearing her hood. Her hands were tying the sash around her robe.
"Well, Mademoiselle Rassendyll, what is the result of your examination?" asked Inspector Lefevre.
Darlla pointed an accusing finger at Hastur. "Here is the killer of Lucille Lutien!"
"Are you mad?" shouted Hastur. She removed her robe and hood. Hastur stood haughtily in her red dancing costume, "Is this the body of Gaston Morrell?"
"No," replied Darlla. "It is the body of Jacqueline the Bold!"
"What?" said a stunned Hastur. "Jacqueline the Bold lived centuries ago!"
"I'm not referring to the legendary Breton bandit. I'm referring to the stage magician of the same name. That performer claimed to be descended from the female brigand as well as the infamous Black Priest of Brittany." Darlla removed from her purse the playbill signed by Francine. She handed it to the Duc.
Opening the playbill, the Duc saw two photos of different women who shared a theatrical double bill. One was listed as "Darlla Kent, the Blonde Nightingale and former star of the Paris Opera." The other was called "Jacqueline 'the Bold' Sorgue, Illusionist Extraordinaire."
Darlla's eyes narrowed. "You didn't recognize me, Mademoiselle Sorgue. My hair was dyed blonde when we knew each other a year ago. The Inspector only addressed me as Mademoiselle Rassendyll. You knew me last year solely by my stage name of Darlla Kent."
"What does it matter if my protégé was formerly a magician?" questioned the Duc.
"Jacqueline Sorgue is wanted by the Sûreté for burglary," divulged Lefevre. "Mademoiselle Sorgue, you are under arrest."
Hastur searched her memories. Jacqueline had mentioned that she had committed robberies during her search for Philip Archer. Hastur knew she had fallen into an inescapable trap. However, she was only charged with burglary. Her physical body was only twenty-five years old. She could weather a prison term.
"I admit that my real name is Jacqueline Sorgue, but I had nothing to go with Lucille's murder."
"A long train of evidence proves otherwise, Mademoiselle Sorgue," insisted Darlla. “With the Inspector's permission, I will explain."
"Please do," said Lefevre. He had no idea what evidence Darlla was citing.
"Your burglaries, Mademoiselle Sorgue, were investigated by my friend, Francine Lutien of the Sûreté. When you disappeared before you could be arrested, Francine traced your movements prior to your ap
pearance as an illusionist in Paris. You had traveled with a wandering band of gypsies in Brittany. Several gypsies remembered that you were looking for a man named Philippe. Since there are thousands of Philippes in France, the name proved of little value in Francine's search for you. I now know the name of the man that you were looking for wasn't named Philippe but the English equivalent, Philip."
"Philip Archer!" snapped Cardec. "I investigated his disappearance. He was Gaston Morrell's tenant."
"Exactly, Monsieur Cardec," added Darlla. "Philip left a strange manuscript detailing a weird experience in Brittany. Do you remember the details?"
"Unfortunately, I don't," said Cardec. "I read it a year ago."
"It's a strange story about a supposed love affair between Archer and a woman, Jeanne d'Ys, in Brittany," revealed Darlla. "There is also a man named Hastur in the same tale. The story incorporates an actual gravestone belonging to a Jeanne d'Ys from the sixteenth century. I believe this story to be a fictionalization of a love affair between Archer and a contemporary Breton woman. Archer's lover was an expert on Breton lore. She showed Archer the grave of Jeanne d'Ys, She told him about the obscure Breton name of Hastur. You were Archer's lover, Mademoiselle Sorgue. Your alias ties you to Archer's manuscript and Archer ties you to Morrell."
"You're spouting nonsense!" said Hastur.
"For unknown reasons, Archer broke off his affair with you," continued Darlla. "Perhaps he sensed your scheming nature. Archer fled Brittany for Paris. You followed him there. Eventually you traced Archer to Morrell's house. You and Archer disappeared from Paris around the same time. That can't be mere coincidence. You knew the police were looking for you. You went to Archer's residence to hide from the authorities. It wasn't Archer who hid you. You now had a new admirer, Gaston Morrell."
"What happened to Archer?" asked Cardec.
"Your earlier investigation indicated that Archer probably committed suicide. I see no reason to doubt that conclusion. I suspect that Archer was torn between a moral obligation to turn Mademoiselle Sorgue over to the police and his love for her.
"During the period that Mademoiselle Sorgue was hiding in Morrell's house, she was taught the art of painting by her new suitor. This is the explanation for the similarity of her style to Morrell's. Eventually Morrell arranged for Mademoiselle Sorgue to flee Paris."
"You have no evidence that I ever knew Morrell!" objected Hastur. "A mere similarity in styles isn't proof."
Darlla turned towards the Duc de Carineaux. "Your Grace, I have heard a rumor that you have a painting depicting Hastur d'Ys?
"Yes, it's a self-portrait."
"Are you sure? Could it not be the work of Gaston Morrell?"
"That's impossible to tell. Their styles are too similar."
"There is one difference between Morrell's paintings and those of the self-styled Hastur d'Ys," responded Darlla. "All of Hastur's works are signed. Morrell's aren't. Is the portrait signed?"
The Duc's face became grim. "It's unsigned." The nobleman silently recalled that Hastur was a virgin when they had made love. Perhaps Morrell's insane rages had resulted from an unconsummated romance with Hastur.
"Then the portrait is ample proof of a relationship between Morrell and Mademoiselle Sorgue," concluded Darlla. "You were the great love of Morrell's life, Mademoiselle Sorgue. You were his feminine ideal. Inevitably, Morrell's obsession with you drove him to madness. No woman whom he painted could match your perfection. Morrell felt compelled to strangle his models."
Hastur's eyes flashed with hatred. This uppity redhead was creating a compelling case through a whirlwind of half-truths. Glancing at Darlla's portrait, Hastur became determined to throttle the policewoman. The artist's hand reached for the back of her veil.
"Obsessed with avenging your lover, you returned to Paris," resumed Darlla. "You created the identity of Hastur d'Ys. You murdered Lucille Lutien because of her role in exposing Morrell as Bluebeard. You made the crime look like Morrell's previous murders in order to ruin Inspector Lefevre's career.
"I have established the motive. Now I shall establish the means. Your Grace, did Mademoiselle Sorgue leave your house last Tuesday evening?"
Before the Duc could answer, Hastur leaped at Darlla and whipped her veil around the redhead's neck. Lefevre and Cardec rushed forward, but they were too late to rescue their colleague.
Darlla rescued herself by smashing her fist into Hastur's jaw. Gazing downward at the unconscious murderess sprawled on the floor, Darlla saw no need for further explanations.
The French press retreated from their persecution of Inspector Lefevre and turned all their scorn on the woman arrested for Lucille Lutien's murder. All the wild Breton stories involving the Sorgue family, including the treason of the Black Priest, were revived. Dubbed "the Black Priestess of Paris" and "Lady Bluebeard," Hastur was portrayed as the maniacal woman who inspired Gaston Morrell. An interview with a retired policeman, Lecoq de Gentilly, yielded a most extraordinary theory. He speculated that Jacqueline Sorgue ordered the murders solely to kill Francine Lutien. Supposedly, Jacqueline wanted revenge on Francine for exposing her role as a burglar. All the other women were allegedly strangled to make Francine appear to be the random victim of a lunatic.
The trial of Lucille's murderer was one of the most dramatic in the history of France. Testimony by Jean Grimoire and Bailey Rollins proved that woman known as Hastur
d'Ys had ample opportunity to murder Lucille. The summation of the prosecution compared the accused to such historical murderesses as Lady Guilfort and Citoyenne Roget. The defendant was promptly found guilty and sentenced to the guillotine.
In her prison cell, Hastur d'Ys had tried unsuccessfully to escape. She had memorized the Ritual of the Signum Veneris that Jacqueline had given her. Nothing happened when the spell was invoked. This particular Ritual must only open the gateway between Earth and the world of the King in Yellow. Hastur then conceived a risky strategy to save her life.
The cell door opened. "Your visitor is here," announced the guard. A man entered the jail cell. The guard shut the door and locked it.
"Why did you send for me, Mademoiselle Sorgue?" asked Jean Grimoire.
"I prefer to be addressed as Mademoiselle d'Ys, Monsieur Grimoire. I wish to employ your services as a Repairer of Reputations."
"I'm afraid that your reputation is beyond my powers of repair."
"But not beyond those of your primary client."
"My primary client?"
"You act as the recruiting agent for a foreign monarch with a prominent lakeside estate. Our first meeting was part of a coordinated effort to recruit me."
"Very perceptive. My interest in you stemmed from your intriguing pseudonym. Furthermore, my client is an art connoisseur who would appreciate your paintings. I have been in communication with my client since your arrest. He informed me of certain facts of which I was previously unaware. You had been a guest at his estate. You had refused a very generous offer of employment.
"A decision that I deeply regret."
The Repairer of Reputations made a strange gesture with his left hand. "We can dispense with the formal repartee. I have clouded the mind of the prison guard so he cannot hear us. We must speak bluntly, Hastur. First, what was your exact relationship to Gaston Morrell? The prosecution's claims at the trial were blatantly false. You were in Carcosa at the time it was alleged that you were hiding in Morrell's house."
"Philip Archer told me that his landlord was a great artist. I summoned Morrell to cure me of being the Pallid Priestess. He was weak due to his ordeal in the Seine. He cured my malady by depicting me on canvas. That was the portrait shown on my trial. The strain of completing his last true masterpiece caused Morrell to suffer a fatal seizure. As he was dying, I asked him if he had any last wishes. He had me swear to exact vengeance on Lucille Lutien and Inspector Lefevre. I transported Morrell's body to Earth and disposed of it accordingly."
"Where is Morrell's corpse? I would like to view the body."
>
"That's impossible. I cremated Morrell's body according to the ancient rites of the Druids. His ashes have been scattered to the four winds."
"How did you learn to paint?'
"Morrell taught me during his sojourn in the city of Hastur."
"You have come to Earth with the help of a traitor inside the Court of Carcosa. Name the traitor."
"The Phantom of Truth."
"I appreciate your honesty. The King of Carcosa deduced the Phantom's treachery. The Phantom was erased from our plane of existence by being slowly tortured to death." Grimoire chuckled. "His reputation for veracity was exaggerated."
"What do you mean?"
"You apparently inspired great depths of loyalty in the Phantom. He told some ludicrous lie that Morrell had murdered you after deliberately botching your portrait. Supposedly, the Phantom cursed Morrell in retaliation. The cursed artist presumably returned to Earth. The Phantom doubtlessly was trying to hide the fact that you had successfully absconded. If not for the Phantom's clever lies, the King would have ordered me to search for the missing Jacqueline the Bold on Earth. As I mentioned earlier, our first meeting stemmed from other factors."
"I am willing to comply with your superior's demands in exchange for being liberated from this prison."
"Your request seems to be a little odd, Hastur. As Jacqueline the Bold, you demonstrated the ability to open gateways in time and space. Why do you need the help of the King In Yellow?"
"The last time I opened such a gateway, I was diverted to Carcosa. I don't relish setting foot there again unless an accommodation has been reached between myself and the King in Yellow."
Grimoire removed a sheet of paper from inside his coat. "You've answered my questions honestly. I anticipated your desire for an accommodation. Signing this sheet of paper will achieve your wish." Grimoire handed the paper and a pen over to Hastur.
"This is a form that entitles you to claim my body after my execution!"
"Don't worry your pretty head, my dear. I have been thoroughly authorized to conclude this matter. The King in Yellow gives his word that you will be resurrected in Carcosa in full bodily health."
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