Tragny began pacing again.
“So, Edwige could have enemies… an enemy? This threat… I don’t understand anything. Sometimes she’d get preoccupied, anxious, but she worked on her roles and I respected her silence, her reveries. Why didn’t she say anything to me? Why this letter that sounds like an SOS?”
“Everything’s there, Baron. That’s why I didn’t say anything to Farnèse, yet. I’m asking you to trust me, like Mademoiselle Hossegor did, and let me do my little investigation as I want. It won’t last long. One or two days. Then I’ll give my findings to the police.”
“You’ll work… illegally?”
“Mademoiselle Hossegor called on me. You can understand that I only want to work in the interest of my client.”
He said goodbye and left. Tragny was too tired to discuss it any further. He was alone, so he went to Edwige. Only then did the nurses leave the room to go and lie down but remain available.
For a long time, he stayed there, alone.
The journalists, after accosting the doctors, harassing them with questions and bombarding them with flashes, had finally left the house. The servants were in bed. Tragny was alone. Alone by the bed where Edwige lay, still beautiful in her mystifying appearance of death.
“But she lives… she lives… My beloved…”
For the tenth time, he leaned over her, looking for signs that she was waking up. He was scared. Scared that she would live like this, never wake up, until she died, as it happened sometimes in certain cases that remained unsolvable.
The minutes passed. Night spread over Passy and everything fell silent for those few, rare hours when Paris seems calm. There was only a small, shaded lamp in the room where Baron Tragny watched over Edwige Hossegor…
A shadow slipped among the rhododendrons in the garden outside the house.
A woman’s shadow. Tall and slender. Dressed in a sequined dress that glimmered with the night…
The stranger slipped among the flowerbeds. She reached the steps to the yard. then started climbing the stairs.
Tragny, anxious, leaning over Edwige, thought he heard something and turned his worried face. Someone had just entered the salon through the French doors…
CHAPTER IV
Tragny took a step toward the door.
“Who’s there?” he asked.
He was no little boy. No coward either. At almost 50, he practiced many sports, including combat sports, and his military service was a secret to no one. Still thin, despite his gray hair, he was man enough to face any adversary.
However, in this agonizing night at Edwige’s bedside, Edwige the cataleptic, threatened by who knew what menace, he felt his voice fail, his heart wrenched, and fear crept through his veins.
Nobody answered his question.
He left Edwige and entered the salon. A thought crossed his mind.
“Isabelle? Is that you? You aren’t in bed? Do you want something?”
But Isabelle did not answer.
A woman was standing there in the dark shadows. He could barely make her out. Silent and motionless, she was like a statue in the dark, and he knew right away that it was not Isabelle. That figure…
A cold sweat beaded on the baron’s forehead.
“Who are you? What are you doing here? Answer me…”
He approached the stranger, but as he got closer he became more frantic than ever. No, it couldn’t be…
The French door opening onto the garden, through which the nocturnal visitor had come in, was still open. A dim light from a nearby street lamp contrasted sharply with the darkness on the ground floor of the Tragny house. This light allowed the baron to glimpse the features of the woman standing there. He clenched his fists.
“What’s the meaning of this? I demand that you speak up…”
He was getting dizzy. He did not want to admit the truth and a flood of dark thoughts washed over him.
“Edwige?”
But Edwige was lying in bed, behind him, where he had brought her, where he had been, watching over her…
She could not be in front of him. She could not be standing up here, face to face, in the salon, a few feet away from the real Edwige.
He jumped forward and turned on the light.
“Edwige…”
It was her. There was no doubt about it. The woman he loved, whom he adored, whom he was going to make his wife. Edwige Hossegor, the television star, the incomparable actress. Edwige with her beautiful, elegant face, her brilliant teeth, her supple body and in the flesh, despite everything, highlighted by the shiny black dress...
Mephista’s dress.
“No! It can’t be true!” he screamed. “Tell me the truth!”
He made a move to leap at her, but she challenged him with an ironic flame in her eye that he had never seen. At least, in real life. Because this look, both ironic and threatening, cruel and playful, was what Edwige wore in more than one role as a femme fatale, a sorceress, a she-devil, everything that had given her fame, fortune and glory. It as the very look that she had on her pretty face while filming The Vampires of Paris.
Faced with this look, Tragny backed away.
He was sure, however, that this was not some cheap costume. The woman standing before him, awe-inspiring by the sheer evil that she exuded out of every pore, was really Edwige Hossegor.
Tragny gulped, barked something, and gave up the idea of grabbing this Edwige. He turned around and ran into the next room.
“Edwige…”
Edwige was still there, motionless, frozen, with no sign of life. An Edwige whom the doctors were taking care of, even though they did not understand the reason or nature of this strange lethargy.
Tragny wiped his sweaty face with a trembling hand. He ran to the bed, leaned over and touched the impassive face of his love. As if to be sure that it really was her, as if attempting an exorcism, he put his lips on her cold cheek. On Edwige’s flesh…
And once again, he spun around. Through the doorway, in the salon, he could see the other Edwige, Edwige number two, Edwige exactly the same, Edwige whom he had sworn on his eternal salvation was really Edwige Hossegor, not a twin sister, not a woman who resembled her, not the caricature of some dreadful imposture, but really Edwige.
And Edwige, this Edwige who walked (as opposed to the other who did not move) was watching him, leaning over her double.
“You just kissed Edwige to be sure that it’s really her, Baron,” she said. “To be sure that the woman lying in the bed is the one you love. Well, come to me… Don’t be afraid… It’s ridiculous and unworthy of man like you.”
The champion Tragny and ex-Captain Tragny were quivering in the heart of Edwige’s lover. It was fiendish, of course. But he had to know. He walked toward her.
Edwige number two held out her hand and, with a graceful movement of her neck, was already tilting her head up for him, her lips parting open.
Tragny felt like he was on the edge of some unknown abyss. He was going to cave in; he was going to break down under the mysterious kiss that was calling him irresistibly. He was captivated, but inside himself, he was battling silently like a lost man who is about to lose everything, who has, perhaps, already lost everything, but who still wants to fight because he is, above all else, a man.
He kissed this woman, yes. To know.
Edwige number two suddenly turned off the light and, in the dark, dragged the baron away, whispering:
“There’s no reason for her to see us…”
Her… Edwige number one. Sleeping Edwige in the bed, in her death-like slumber. Edwige who was not supposed to see him kissing the other Edwige.
Tragny was about to embrace his fiendish mistress when someone burst into the salon like a cannonball. He barreled up to the couple, snickering.
“Excuse me for interrupting such a sweet rendezvous.”
The other Edwige backed away swiftly so it was Tragny who was bumped into. He reacted with his usual force and the intruder stumbled to the side.
The man struggled to stand up. Tragny was about to grab him by the throat.
“Ro…bert!” Someone called him by his first name. And he could recognize the voice among a thousand. It was the voice of Edwige.
Dumbfounded, he ran back into the room. He believed he understood and he wanted it to be true.
“Robert, Oh Robert!”
“My love.”
Edwige was awake. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, he saw her beautiful face trembling, her eyelids fluttering, her lips, straining to pronounce his name.
“Edwige. Don’t worry… I’m here… I love you.”
He took her in his arms and covered her with kisses. She was coming out of her lethargy. She was waking up. Was the terrible nightmare finally over?
But he got hold of himself and, in spite of the intense joy erupting inside him on seeing that Edwige was not dead, that the doctors were not wrong, he still had to fight against the harrowing mystery.
“But then… the other?”
Edwige did not seem to understand. She held onto him tightly and, instinctively, he called for Isabelle and Joseph…
And this man who was there? And the other Edwige?
The man reappeared, wiping his bleeding lip with a handkerchief.
“You! What are you doing here?”
“Compliments on your right hook, Baron. You live up to your reputation. Unfortunately…”
Tragny grabbed Teddy Verano by the arms and shook him furiously.
“Talk… Talk… That woman… Who was that woman?”
“Calm down,” Teddy Verano said, “you’ve already wrecked half my jaw and though I wanted to get my hands on her, I couldn’t. The result is… she’s gone.”
“Gone?”
Tragny wanted to run into the garden but Verano stopped him.
“No use. I looked… but I don’t understand. She was there, that’s a fact; she’s not there now. Where did she go? Damn me if I understand a thing.” Then he muttered, “Bloody Hell, there’s some devilry involved… because, really…”
Joseph and Isabelle came running in, half-dressed.
“Quick, Isabelle, take care of your mistress. Joseph, call Dr. Sorbier.”
He took Edwige’s hands, as she smiled weakly, and covered them with kisses.
“My dear… Don’t be scared… It’s over… You were ill, that’s all.”
Joseph ran to the telephone and Tragny left Isabelle to attend her mistress. He went back to Teddy Verano.
“So, what are you doing here?”
“My job, Baron. I was keeping watch. Yes, I work like that sometimes, without anyone knowing, not even my clients. I wanted to get an idea of things. In this situation, it was very easy. These little houses in Passy, so close to the studios at the Maison de la Radio, still have that old-fashioned charm in their yards and gardens. You can hide there very easily.”
“And what did you think you would find?”
“I don’t know. But you have to admit, Baron, that I was very close to finding a solution, if not the solution, if it wasn’t for your marvelous right hook…”
“I’m sorry. I…”
“Ah, those are the hazards of the job. And that’s not the problem. There’s this woman…”
“How’d she get in? Did you see her?”
Teddy Verano shook his head.
“To tell you the truth, I only saw her in the middle of the garden, walking toward the steps, then up and into the house.”
“Didn’t you want to stop her?”
“Of course, but you stopped me first.”
“How could I know that it was her and not me that you were after?”
“The misunderstanding is logical, but it’s unfortunate.”
Edwige’s voice could be heard faintly pleading:
“Robert…”
Isabelle came over.
“Baron, Mademoiselle is calling for you.”
Tragny ran to Edwige and Teddy Verano followed him casually. Edwige was sobbing into Tragny’s chest and the detective heard her stammered out:
“My dear… I feel… like I’m crawling out of the grave… I dreamed… it was awful… I wanted…” She took a deep breath, made an effort and continued, “I dreamed that I wanted to kill you… No… that Mephista wanted to kill you…”
“It’s nothing, my love. Nothing but a nightmare.”
Reluctantly he looked at Teddy Verano.
They said nothing to each other. They both felt the terror lurking around them, made more dreadful by being beyond comprehension.
CHAPTER V
Three days passed. Professor Gelor and Dr. Sorbier were in agreement. Although Edwige had come out of her lethargy as quickly as she had fallen into it, a serious examination was in order, as well as a period of confined recovery.
Starting the next morning, after the devastating day followed by the eventful night, Baron Tragny had, consequently, given in to the medical authorities. An ambulance had taken Edwige to the hospital and, for three days, guarded her jealously from prying eyes, while Tragny along with Edwige’s aunt, her only family, and two or three close friends, could only see her through a window.
They said it was for her mental health, for her sanity in short. The Baron gave in.
He had slept little and talked long with the private detective whom he already considered a new friend, whom his fiancée had contacted in her moment of distress. That was what united them: to know the reason for her call for help.
Tragny knew nothing at all about it. Edwige’s aunt, having seen little of her, was not much help. Eva Mellion, a journalist friend who did public relations work for Edwige, did not seem to know anything either. Finally, there was Isabelle, her attendant, young and very devoted to Edwige. She, too, gave no useful information.
“And yet,” Tragny repeated for the 100th time, “Edwige felt threatened, since she called on you.”
“And,” Teddy Verano replied, “it might not have been an idle threat…”
“You think her fainting fit—which is a poor term—might have some criminal action behind it?”
“I’ve seen so many things like that, Monsieur…”
“Yes. They call you the ‘ghost detective,’ don’t they? I guess because of all the investigations that you’ve made into the Occult. This is all very well, but with regard to our situation here…”
“I don’t want to make any formal statements yet, seeing that I haven’t been able to question Mademoiselle Hossegor seriously, but I’ve already got the feeling that there’s a will, an extraordinary power, that’s involved in this affair.”
“You mean that Edwige had… how can I say it… a spell cast on her?”
Tragny was a realist. At least, he claimed to be, like everyone else who believed only in what was right in front of their face. But he was too smart to laugh at such things as magic, and Edwige’s condition, so far being scientifically inexplicable, was starting to make him listen more closely to Teddy Verano.
Chief Farnese had come to pay another visit. He was investigating the Lemoulin affair, which was going nowhere. But he gave in also and had postponed Edwige’s hearing while admitting that she would likely provide no pertinent information. Like Tragny, he easily saw that Edwige Hossegor’s guilt could only come out of the wildest fantasy, because when their poor friend was murdered, she was in that awful coma amongst a crowd of witnesses.
And yet, there was the bloody fingerprint…
On the morning of the fourth day, the baron called Teddy Verano early.
“I’ll be right over,” the detective said.
He was barely awake. He dressed hurriedly and gulped down the cof
fee that Yvonne, his wife, had lovingly prepared for him.
“I’m sorry, dear, but this morning, we’ve got authorization to talk to our great star, to examine her, make a battery of tests and all sorts of medical nonsense.”
Half an hour later, he and Tragny entered the white room where Edwige smiled at them. Dr. Sorbier was there. He whispered a few words to Verano, leaving Tragny to greet Edwige with a flood of passion.
“Not too long, Messieurs, Mademoiselle Hossegor is still very tired.”
The two men sat on either side of the bed. They started by introducing Teddy Verano, whom Edwige had contacted without knowing him, trusting in his reputation.
Tragny, who was dying to know, came right out with it:
“My dear, we have little time. The doctors are adamant about this. You know what happened to you… and it was so surprising… well, nothing at all is clear… when you woke up you told me about a nightmare…”
Edwige’s beautiful face tensed up.
“The baron is right to remind you of this, Mademoiselle,” Teddy Verano added. “Because there’s a lot of things that you have to know. So let’s take them in order. You wrote to me asking for my help. It wasn’t without reason.”
“Oh no, although…” Edwige sighed. “I wonder if you’ll think I’m crazy.”
The two men tried to assure her.
“No, no,” Edwige cut them off. “Listen to me… No, I won’t even try to tell you right now… my fear is so ridiculous, so unjustified. Oh, Robert, Robert, I don’t know what to think… I’m scared.”
The baron took her hands tenderly.
“Edwige, we’re alone. You can talk in total confidence. Since you trusted Monsieur Verano, you can’t stop there. He’s been by my side for three days and I can assure you that I, too, have learned what kind of man he is.”
Teddy bowed slightly to thank him. Edwige was about to talk but there was a knock at the door.
“Well, well,” Tragny said good-humoredly, “what’s this then?’
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