Rouletabille at Krupp's

by Gaston Leroux

  Overwhelmed, amazed and also dazzled by the sheets of electric light poured down by a thousand stars suspended from a wooden sky that would only open again to let the redoubtable aircraft escape, Rouletabille paused momentarily, his heart pounding, and his soul filed with such anguish that drops of sweat were beading his temples. With a nervous, almost unconscious, gesture, he grasped his companion’s arm.

  “Well,” he said, “now you see it—the three hundred meter canon! You can see that it wasn’t a dream.”

  It was not a dream; that cannon, which was a torpedo-launching tube, was four hundred meters long.

  It was there, almost complete: the Titania born in Fulbert’s inflamed brain. And yet, if Fulbert had been able to see it, he would have died of grief!

  Its menacing nose-cone was not turned toward the city cursed by men, but it was ready to depart for Paris—devoted, by the Emperor of Fire, to death and destruction.

  That terrible thought returned all of Rouletabille’s presence of mind and composure. “Let’s follow the Emperor,” he whispered to La Candeur, who seemed to be utterly bewildered, crushed by the colossal vision. He dragged him along.

  They were behind the procession once again, as if they were following orders, and they saw everything, slipping between girders as thick as cathedral pillars in order to see better, running over precariously-balanced planks, and, without attracting any attention whatsoever, creeping close enough to the imperial speaker to hear him offer his brief explanations, which had to be shouted in order to rise above the tumult.

  Thus they made a tour of the place, and found themselves with the others inside the tube and inside the torpedo itself, a steel cylinder such as had never been seen before, and inside which they could already see the steel partitions destined to carry the small cylinders as a mother carries her young...

  The Emperor explained everything, giving details of the principal divisions of the engine, pausing at the hydraulic jacks that opened and closed the loading bay by means of steel hawsers, inviting admiration of the unprecedented dimensions of the compressed-air accumulators for the initial launch of the torpedo—which, as soon as it emerged from the tube, would be propelled henceforth by its own means. Finally, he took care to give full significance to the orientation of the apparatus: north-east/south-west…toward Paris!

  And he added:

  “At Paris first—for the tube can be reloaded and contain other Titanias, if necessary. And we can direct the tube toward any point on the earth’s surface, as necessary, for the tube, as you will observe, can pivot on an enormous circular platform: a platform that can still serve at the last minute, once the temporary buildings that surround us have been demolished, to make the direction mathematically precise or to modify it. For example, we could as easily send the Titania to fall on London. If we aren’t doing that, it’s because there are people among us who don’t like London, while everyone loves Paris—and the entire world will weep for it!”

  Thus spoke the Monarch of Tears.

  And in order that he might be more clearly understood, a sudden order was issued to suspend the resounding labor. Thus, it was in a silence all the more impressive because it succeeded an infernal din, that the Emperor continued, while all the neutral and allied journalists took out their notepads and took down the sacred words:

  “Excellencies, gentlemen, you have seen the work! It will be completed in two months. In two months, if Paris has not heeded our voice of amity and forgiveness, Paris will be no more. We are not barbarians. We shall make known our conditions of peace. We want it to be durable, and such that German kultur will no longer be endangered anywhere in the world.

  “We did not want this war, but since it has been forced upon us, it is only just that we profit from it at least to demand the space necessary for the development of our genius on all the continents. The World must understand that, or the World will die!

  “Go forth, and repeat our words. With all our heart, moved by so many present miseries and by the anticipation of future catastrophes, we want to be heard by our worst enemies: those who know the power of the weapon that has been intended for use against us and which we are turning against them.

  “You can tell them that you have seen working, in total liberty, for the completion of the most terrible machine ever to emerge from the human mind, the man who, with Fulbert, drew up its initial plans, carried out the first trials of its effect in England, and who consents today to make it serve as his vengeance against a city and a people who have condemned him and cursed him, for the realization of our designs for the future and the happiness of humankind!”

  As he pronounced these final words, the Emperor indicated, half-suspended in space, strangely attached to the end of a catwalk from which one could look down on all the works of the Titania, the tormented silhouette of a man whose head was in his hands and who was looking down at what was happening beneath him with the eyes of a madman. It was the Pole, Serge Kaniewsky, Nicole’s fiancé.

  Had he heard the Emperor’s final words? Was he embarrassed by all the eyes turning toward him? At any rate, he stood up, and walked at a slow pace toward other points and other catwalks. At the corner of one of them he crossed the path of a fireman who seemed to be making a tour of inspection, and who took the time to say, rapidly, as he passed him by:

  “The walks will resume; raise the lid of the desk next to the window of Gate B and look at the blotting-pad in the mirror.”

  Chapter XVIII

  The Engagement Party

  The celebration of Helena Hans’ engagement was not merely to be the occasion of a small family fête.

  Rouletabille had known for a long time, having lent an attentive ear to the private conversations of Helena and Richter, that the Emperor was determined that the gala feast in question, presided over by General von Berg, would figure as an important episode in the tragicomedy of blackmail that he had determined to play on the world stage, with the Titania in the wings. It was a matter of showing off the inventor’s daughter there, at liberty, treated as a friend by Hans’ daughter, and putting a stop, at a stroke, the stories of torture that were beginning to run around in diplomatic circles, which had already found an echo in certain Dutch socialist newspapers.

  It was in a similar spirit that Wilhelm had taken it into his head to exhibit to his cortege of journalists, during the famous nocturnal factory visit, a Fulbert occupied in scientific research. As for the inventor’s clamoring regarding the ill-treatment to which Nicole had been subjected, the presence of the young woman at the gala meal ought to rob them of all significance—and on the other hand, they undoubtedly had more than enough decisive means to employ against Nicole’s dearly-beloved father to fear that she would say anything in public that was not to everyone’s taste.

  Nicole, having been invited by Helena, had initially refused—of which Rouletabille had not been unaware, and which had determined him to let her know that it was necessary to accept.

  If, in order to enter into communication with her, he had had to resort to a nocturnal enterprise that was not without danger, it was because Nicole had not shown herself for several days with Helena in Richter’s home. The excursions had ceased, and that had intrigued the reporter all the more because he had discovered their importance and their significance.

  Before arriving at Richter’s residence, Helena, every time she had Nicole beside her in her automobile, had always taken the same route, which went along the great wooden wall of the enclosure reserved for the Titania, and past Gate B, slowing down in front of the porter’s window.

  Now, behind that little window, at the appointed hour, Serge Kaniewsky was standing, in order that he thus could be allowed to see his fiancée, and who would not consent to work unless proof of that sort was provided that the woman he loved was still being treated appropriately and maintained in good health.

  We know that the Pole had gone so far as to demand meetings, but we also know what had happened during the first of them, which was
not followed by any other. Finally, we have learned how Rouletabille took advantage of Serge’s repeated station at the desk at Gate B to the necessary instructions to Serge, by means of a blotting-pad, for an enterprise whose results we shall soon see.

  Rouletabille and La Candeur, having followed the Emperor’s cortege step by step, had got back into their lodgings that same night much more easily than such audacious and tragic peregrinations might have given them reason to fear. The possession of two—indeed, three—foremen’s uniforms permitted them to do many things, however, while assuring them of a certain security.

  It is also necessary not to forget that they continued to have at their disposal very useful objects: picks, spades, axes, ropes and rope-ladders, of which they could make all necessary use on the following nights.

  Now, Rouletabille could communicate as he wished with Fulbert, with Nicole and with Serge, and he had an ongoing correspondence with Vladimir.

  Finally, to crown all these fine results, he was fortunate enough to be invited to the famous engagement party—and in order that no one should be mistaken, that stroke of luck was entirely natural. The higher authorities were glad to show von Berg’s guests, at the same time as the inventor Fulbert’s daughter, a French engineer—for the Boche had not hesitated to award the Frenchman Talmar the title of engineer—working in partnership with a Swiss engineer within the Krupp factory, and working without restraint, in accordance with a contract freely made.

  Two days before the lunch at the Essener-Hoff, Rouletabille, who was drawing a diagram of a new lever in his little office, taking great care to establish the differences and measurements that distinguished the lever in question from an old lever that he had set on the table in front of him, saw Helena and Nicole getting out of the automobile..

  Immediately, he hid in his cupboard and waited.

  Richter and Helena left Nicole in the design-studio in order to go up to the first floor to visit Richter’s aged mother, who was a chronic invalid.

  Rouletabille decided to take advantage of the fortunate solitude in which Fulbert’s daughter had been left—the butler-guard had remained in the vestibule, as usual—emerged from his hiding-place and prudently went to put an eye to the keyhole.

  He was initially astonished that Nicole, who must, however, have been as desirous as he was to renew their conversation, did not even turn to look at the study in which she knew that he was working on her behalf. She was standing indifferently in front of a drawing-board and seemed to be following the lines traced on the paper, as if she had nothing else to do but kill time.

  Rouletabille thought that such an attitude must have been dictated to her by prudence, and he waited—but he waited in vain for the head, which he could only see in profile, to turn in his direction. Finally, no longer being able to contain himself, he opened the door. This time, Nicole turned toward him, and even started, as if genuinely surprised to find that there was someone in the office.

  “Oh, Monsieur you frightened me!” she said.

  At the same moment, Richter’s voice became audible in the corridor. “Yes, Mama is better. I think that she’ll be able to attend the party.”

  Immediately, Rouletabille, understanding that Nicole’s behavior and manner of speech had been commanded by prudence, continued to play his part. “I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle. I thought that there was no one in here.” And he closed his door again, and went back to work as if nothing had happened.

  Two minutes later, he saw the automobile drawing away with Helena, Nicole, Richter and the butler.

  Bah! he thought. I’ll see her again at the engagement party!

  And they did meet again there.

  When the day came, Rouletabille went to the Essener-Hoff with Richter himself, who was treating him entirely as a friend.

  Rouletabille was not the only French reporter who had already visited the Essener-Hoff. Another great reporter, Jules Huret,22 has given us this description of it:

  The Krupp House—the Essener-Hoff—is a very curious place. With its double staircase with pink marble columns, with gilded copper banisters, it has a grandiose air. In the entrance hall, to either side of a vast stone fireplace, sculpted masks represent the human types of the five continents. The floor is covered with red tiles on which carpets are laid; sofas and armchairs upholstered in red leather are aligned along the walls. The house is principally intended to receive official envoys who have come to Essen to place orders for artillery.

  They were treated as guests there, and treated royally. Some of those envoys remained there for a year, or even two years, to assist in the manufacture, with the result that, with its fifty rooms, the Essener-Hoff cost the factory something like 500,000 francs a year, not counting supplementary expenses.

  At the moment that concerns us, there were, naturally, only representatives of powers allied with Germany, and a few neutral countries, in residence. There were also a few neutral journalists, carefully selected from the germanophilic press. In sum, the majority of the people who had made up the Emperor’s cortege during the nocturnal tour of the Krupp factory, had been invited by General von Berg.

  The gala lunch was held in the large ballroom, and when Richter arrived with Rouletabille they found a large crowd there already, which was in an exceedingly cheerful mood. The ladies were wearing low necklines, as if for a dinner.

  As he went through the drawing-rooms, Rouletabille had spotted Vladimir. When he went into the ballroom he saw Nicole. Then he looked for Princess Botosani, but could not see her. He was astonished that she had not been invited. Richter introduced the reporter to Nicole—he had already had the opportunity to introduce him to Helena.

  “A compatriot,” said Richter, in a loud voice. “It must be a great consolation for the two of you to encounter one another in this abominable country where prisoners are treated as slaves and allowed to die of starvation.”

  “Ach!” exclaimed General von Berg, behind them. “Monsieur Michel Talmar and Mademoiselle Nicole can obtain a few good provisions today, assuredly!”

  And, bursting out into coarse laughter, he indicated the immense table already covered with the delicacies most appreciated by Teutonic palates, and pyramids of fruits, cakes and sweetmeats. “We lack for nothing! In truth, we lack for nothing!”

  Nicole and Rouletabille did not have a chance to say anything to one another before the meal. The General introduced “the celebrated French engineer Michel Talmar” personally to the principal foreign guests, never failing to give details of his collaboration and partnership with Richter at the heart of the Krupp factory.

  “There’s an intelligent Frenchman,” he concluded, “who truly understands his own interests. He hasn’t gone to take his invention to England! He’s been smarter than Fulbert!”

  Coarse laughter greeted his allusion to the inventor’s misfortune.

  “Shh!” said the General then, with a broad smile full of malice. “We’re making Mademoiselle Nicole uncomfortable. His Majesty confided her to me when he left.”

  Everyone looked at Nicole, who did not look at anyone—not even Rouletabille, who seemed to be plunged into a profound reverie.

  Before they sat down at the table, Rouletabille and Nelpas Paha maneuvered so cleverly that they were able to obtain two minutes of conversation without attracting anyone’s attention.

  “You have what I asked you for?” asked Rouletabille.

  Vladimir slipped a small phial into his hand. “Yes. Twenty drops will suffice for one person.”

  “Thanks…and the Wesel?”

  “Bad news,” Vladimir replied, between his teeth. “I’ve seen the captain of the Wesel; he’s received orders to transport fifty Boche to Holland on his next trip.”

  “How many crewmen?” Rouletabille asked.

  “Seven.”

  “Eight with the captain. After all, that only makes fifty-eight men.”

  “That’s a lot,” Vladimir observed, “for three fellows who might need to take possession of a v
essel without making too much noise.”

  “Bah! No one will notice anything, and I hope that we won’t need to take possession of anything at all.”

  “Damn it, I hope so!”

  “What time are the crates arriving aboard the Wesel?” Rouletabille asked.

  “Everything has to be loaded by six o’clock in the morning. The new timetable requires the ship to raise anchor at seven. Remember that your escape will be noticed by five at the latest. They can do a lot in two hours.”

  “Like what?”

  “Capture you and take you back to the factory, for instance.”

  “That’s quite possible,” Rouletabille replied dryly, “But they’ll only bring back corpses. By the way, my dear Pacha, how is Princess Botosani?”

  He could not continue, though; they were sitting down at table. He was a long way from Vladimir and a long way from Nicole, between an aged hauptmann who boasted of being the factory’s oldest employee, and a young backfisch for sixteen or eighteen, a cousin of Hans, who never stopped talking and telling Rouletabille in the greatest details about a week-long trip she had once made to Paris. It was a city she liked a great deal, because of Magic-City.23

  “They say that the Emperor might destroy Paris,” she said, by way of conclusion, but I hope we won’t destroy Magic-City!”