“I see at once that the first plan has failed,” said the Patriarch, gazing at him with a look of pity. Then with a peculiar smile, he added: “Give me back the key, my young friend.”
De Lauriac threw down the key with a gesture which was anything but courteous.
“Calm yourself,” said the Patriarch gently, “because if the first plan has succeeded only in putting you in this state, what will happen to you when you know what the second is?”
“I am here to ask you to tell me what your second plan is, and whether it depends upon me,” growled de Lauriac.
Unfortunately for you it does not depend upon you, my dear friend.”
The Patriarch rose as he uttered this enigmatic sentence and made a motion with his hand. A man came in and showed de Lauriac out, increasingly distraught at the Patriarch’s change of manner.
As he entered the apartments in the palace which had been reserved for him, the first person whom he encountered was Callista. She seemed as excited as he was cast down. She had lifted her veil so that he might recognize her.
“Monsieur de Lauriac,” she began in a low voice, after making sure that they could not be overheard, “you know who I am. You love Odette. I hate her. I will do for you from hatred what you wish to do for yourself from love. I want you to marry Odette. You must not hide from me what happened between you and the Patriarch. What did he say?”
De Lauriac stared at Callista for a moment. She too was an interested party, was Callista. The thing that the Octopus had promised to do through jealousy of Rouletabille, Callista proposed to do through jealousy of Jean. But, when all was said, neither the one nor the other had helped him in any way. He had heard nothing further from Madame de Meyrens. And what could Callista do for him? He shrugged his shoulders and plucked up courage to laugh at himself.
“Everybody wishes me to marry Odette,” he said, “but the unfortunate thing is that Odette doesn’t wish to marry me! Faced with this fact neither you nor I nor the sacred writings are of any avail.”
“What about the Patriarch? What did he say to you?” she asked impatiently. —
“He has, it seems, two plans by which the prediction in the book may be fulfilled.”
“What are they?”
“Well, he placed the first in my hands, and it failed,” returned de Lauriac with a sinister grin.
“What about the second? Did he tell you what the second was?”
“He told me that it did not concern me.”
“Well, I am here to discuss it with you.... But, first of all, I must know...”
“You must know that Odette is ready to kill herself rather than give way. That is my present position.... I am willing to listen to you....”
“Let me tell you, then, that before giving you the key of Odette’s apartments the Elders met in council, and decided to provide Odette with a husband as foretold in the book. If that husband cannot be Hubert de Lauriac, then it will be another... that’s all.”
De Lauriac rose to his feet, and with a fierce gesture seized Callista’s hand.
“Another?... What do you mean?”
“Well, the other whom she loves.”
“Jean?”
“Yes, Jean, because she won’t have anyone else.”
“I refuse to believe it,” gasped de Lauriac. “Look here, have you come here to make a fool of me? Mind what you’re saying!”
“Nothing is impossible if Jean will consent to live here as Prince Consort.... They will arrange for Odette to escape for Jean to bring her back here. It’s as easy as can be.... You see, he won’t hesitate when it’s a question between Odette and death.”
De Lauriac gripped Callista’s hand.
“Callista, you didn’t come here to tell me this without having something in your mind — some scheme.”
“My scheme is as simple as theirs,” she said quietly. “Jean must die to-morrow morning.”
CHAPTER XLVIII
THE LIBRARIAN
“THE VILLAINY YOU teach me I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.”
— The Merchant of Venice Extract from Rouletabille’s diary:
“What a turn this Sever Turn gives me! If we ever come forth from it alive it will be a piece of luck. I am well aware that I have a Romany gem which acts as an ‘Open Sesame’ in this diabolical maze, but I have already made pretty free with it, to say nothing of the fact that as we all know, it is much easier to get into a maze than out of it. The chief trouble in this dreadful business is that there is a sign, which is disastrous to us — as disastrous as the other is useful — I mean the sign of the crown. Whatever one may say it exists in very deed. And it is by no means invisible. It is even bigger than a chick-pea. It consists of a royal crown, very plainly marked, and is about the size of the top of one’s little finger — a royal crown which our poor Odette bears above the left shoulder-blade.
“That strictly speaking she had never seen it, may be conceded, for Lavardens is not a place where persons have at command a play of mirrors such as are met with in Paris in the dressing-rooms of coquettes; but that no one should have enlightened her on this peculiar mark, that her maid should never have breathed a word about it, that Estève should have lied to me on this point — these things require consideration.
“I must think it out. I now have the time.... I barely had time to make myself scarce after the scene in the temple!... To be sure, had the gipsies been less absorbed by their queyra, my life would not have been worth a moment’s purchase, but in the language of strategists, I had taken the precaution to assure a line of retreat, and I had already located a certain winding staircase inside the third pillar on the left, by means of which I was enabled to effect a speedy retirement.
“In this way I knew I could reach an emplacement whence I could slide down into a small yard connected directly with the outside.
“There were about twenty steps to mount. My good or evil star willed that, at the moment when I rushed to the staircase, I should hear above my head the tramp of a heavy footstep, and instead of mounting the stairs I descended them. I descended them until I found myself in the basement, and as I continued to hear the threatening footstep above me, I slipped into the first passage which presented itself.... Through passages and subways I reached, in a few minutes, the Palace of the Patriarchs. This huge structure must be as old as the hills. At all events it justifies everything that may have been written on the subject of underground architecture in mediaeval castles, and also on the precautions which the lords of these castles took to enable them, in crucial times, to dive down into the vaults, and if needs be to take flight into the surrounding country.
“Of course, it was sinister to a degree down there, with its peculiar odour of sulphur which I have never experienced anywhere else. The subterranean part of Sever Turn is a very devil’s cave! But I have seen many worse things in my time.... Here and there was the dim light from a lantern hanging to the wall; and then suddenly I came upon a door, or rather a grating, behind which I could discern a staircase from which I concluded that this passage was frequently used.
In this hope I waited events, hiding in a small recess into which I crept.
“I waited an hour.... Yes, I waited until some one came and opened the grating which divided me from Odette. I waited, leaning, as far as possible, on the right end of my judgment, which for a moment had almost eluded me, but upon which I now lean again more firmly than ever.
“And there was something else upon which I leant not less firmly, to wit, my revolver, for at last I heard the tramp of footsteps once more.
“Upon my word, here comes a dignified old man who is not entirely unknown to me. Bless me, if it isn’t the worthy librarian, the distinguished linguist, the chief scholar in Sever Turn.... He is doubtless returning home after the ceremony for he is still clad in gala dress — a long loose vestment with wide sleeves and a cap with fillets — a dress which imparts to all these Elders of the Council the appearance of Byzan
tine demons.
And behold the magnificent finery which would not disfigure an exhibition in the Faubourg Poissonnière, and may be of some service to me until it becomes an agreeable memory!...
“Shall we be able to come to an understanding? I hope so for his sake.
“It is worthy of remark that these great dignitaries, notwithstanding the solemnity of their office, preserve in their demeanour and character an indefinable something suggestive of the cunning and raillery peculiar to the race. I had already observed the same thing even in the Patriarch himself. Though he is the Patriarch it must not be forgotten that he is the patron saint of the balogards, a tribe of gipsies who have no equal among the entire human race for deceit. As to the grey-beard for whom I waited, his expression had nothing formidable in it. It proclaimed a knave, rather than a rascal; it was marked more by craft than cruelty. His dark keen eyes, his bold look, the sardonic smile which he invariably wore, imparted to his countenance a subtle air which reassured me. Before he became a librarian, he was, perhaps, a horse dealer. At all events he must have been well known in the fairs and market places. Let us have a chat with him....
“Well, our worthy librarian straightway understood us — my revolver and myself. He merely asked me to bind him hand and foot, so that no accusation could be brought against him of complicity in my project; and he furnished me, thanks to his somewhat elaborate costume and his fillets, with the bonds essential for the operation. He made me promise, too, when I had taken him to the recess in which I had until then found refuge, to come back to him as soon as I possibly could, and return his vestment to which he seemed to attach some value, and not to breathe a word about the incident if subsequent events showed that it need not be noised abroad.
“When I conceded all his stipulations he repaid me by giving me, in addition to the key of the iron gate, certain information which I found very useful in wandering about this maze.... ‘Good-bye for the present, and thank you.’”
At this point there is a blank in the diary, and then come the following notes:
“I go everywhere without let or hindrance.... Enormous excitement in the Palace.... Settling the queyra comfortably in her apartments has put the household in a flutter. I take advantage of the confusion to steal through these rooms. I reached them at the moment when Callista was ‘doing for’ Zina. She left her lying outside the women’s quarters, to all seeming dead. If only she had not killed her outright!... No, she still breathes.... These old women are wonderfully tough!... I lift her up. I do my utmost for her. She opens her eyes, and I make myself known to her.
“‘Each has in turn tended the other. You remember New Wachter.’
“While I hastily dress the old woman’s injuries, I have a very interesting talk with her. She tells me what happened in the condemned cell.... Poor Jean!...
But I must, as usual, think first of Odette.... And Zina whom I support, leads me as best she can, through the kitchens to the queyra’s rooms....
“I have seen Odette!”
Here a few lines have been carefully erased as often happened when Rouletabille expressed too impulsively his feelings with regard to Odette.
“I leave Odette with Zina in spite of her entreaties, for Zina has aroused all her fears again. In truth, the old woman with her loose and disordered hair, her bleeding wounds, her wild eyes which begin to hypnotize Odette, is a terrifying sight.... I wanted to stay, but it was she who turned me away: ‘Go! Go! I need to be alone with her.’ And I fled so as no longer to hear the poor child’s wail of anguish, and her uneven breathing, no more able to withstand Zina’s gaze than the dove can resist the hawk’s direct and penetrating eye.”
Another blank and then:
“Callista again! I caught a glimpse of her as she came away from a meeting with de Lauriac, who seems to have taken up his abode here. They were joined by an old woman of the same type as Zina, who kissed Callista’s hands and feet, while spluttering from her toothless jaws a few raucous words like the croak of a toad: ‘You can be easy in your mind,’ said Callista to de Lauriac. ‘As for her, she will anticipate our desires. If she could make the foreigner die twice she wouldn’t let the opportunities slip.’
“It is obvious that I shall have to turn my attention to Jean.... Yes, we must strain every nerve to gain time...
A blank space and then:
“I haven’t wasted my night.... I risked everything to have two words with Jean through the grating of the condemned cell... two necessary words.
“This morning I saw the page-boy at the Hotel des Balkans deliver a letter to de Lauriac.... Beware... beware of the Octopus!”
CHAPTER XLIX
ONE WAY IN SEVER TURN OF DESPATCHING A PRISONER
ON THE MORNING following the day so crowded with events, Monsieur Nicolas Tournesol was shaving in his room in the Hôtel des Balkans when his door was abruptly opened and Rouletabille made his appearance.
“Are you Monsieur Nicolas Tournesol?”
“Monsieur Rouletabille!”
“Ah, you know me.”
“I know everybody, and it would be very surprising if I didn’t know the most famous journalist in Europe.... Won’t you sit down? I’ll finish dressing — your presence won’t inconvenience me! I met you some time ago. I saw you in the temple yesterday, and I am very glad to see you to-day, let me tell you, for I rather thought that I should never see you again! You know as well as I do, monsieur, that these people are anything but well disposed towards you, and I cannot too strongly advise you to take the air.”
“The air?”
“Yes, take the air — do a bunk, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, yes, yes.... Very nice of you.... I beg your pardon.”
“Not at all — a slight joke of mine, I am the last of the commercial travellers.... I sell everything.
I am the channel of communication between the manufacturer, the agent and the wholesale merchant; the vade semper of the duplicate entry, the unsaleable article, and the surplus stock. Have a drink, will you?... May I ask to what I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“A serious matter, monsieur. I have come to see you in your capacity as a Frenchman. You represent France here, Monsieur Tournesol.”
“Good lord,” exclaimed Tournesol, forgetting to boast for the first time in his life. “I represent still more an excellent brand of champagne.”
“I will come to the point, and you will at once understand me. As you were present yesterday, I need not tell you that Monsieur Jean de Santierne, a Frenchman, was sentenced by the Grand Council to die of starvation.”
“I was not present when the thing took place, but I will take your word for it. I did not hear the sentence on the young man. I arrived at the temple while the people were acclaiming their young queen, and you were raising your voice in a vigorous protest.”
“Two abominable crimes are about to be committed.”
“That is quite likely,” said Monsieur Tournesol, arranging his tie, and making grimaces in the glass. “Everything is possible where state affairs are concerned.”
“I have just come from the Wallachian Consul, and he told me, as you do now, that everything is possible where state affairs are concerned. It was an answer which, I may say, in no way surprised me.”
“You are right there, monsieur. If we were to interfere in the internal affairs of every country, international intercourse would be impossible. Trade would be at a standstill.”
“The sale of champagne would be interrupted.”
“You needn’t tell me that, worse luck! Politics have already nearly ruined me. Luckily they have recovered the queen.”
Rouletabille rose to his feet and made a movement to leave the room. Tournesol caught hold of him.
“Don’t go like that. If I can be of any use to you I assure you...”
“You cannot be of any use to me. When I left the Wallachian Consul I inquired at the hotel if there was a Frenchman in the town: ‘Yes, there is one —
Monsie
ur Tournesol,’ was the reply. Well, they were mistaken. There isn’t a Frenchman here, though there is an international commercial traveller. As I don’t want to buy anything from you, I’m going. Good-bye, Monsieur Nicolas Tournesol.”
“Don’t, I entreat you, leave me like this,” cried Monsieur Tournesol, overwhelmed by remorse, for in reality he had a good heart beneath his somewhat cynical manner. “I agree that what is being done is abominable, and I wish to be your friend. I wish to help you whatever the consequences may be to myself. What must I do?”
Rouletabille turned back and shook his hand.
“You are a very decent fellow,” he said, “and I don’t hesitate to confide in you. I understand your position. It so happens that without your being in any way responsible, your interests directly conflict with ours.”
“Don’t speak of my interests. I am ashamed of remembering them when it’s a matter of saving the lives of two young people — both French. As sure as my name is Tournesol I am your man.”
“I entirely rely on you. A Madame de Meyrens is here, isn’t she?”
“A charming... a delightful woman with whom I am, I may say, on rather good terms, and I don’t despair of.. Well, I have no wish to be indiscreet, but you are a Parisian and will forgive me.... I will not hide from you that if I am rather careful in my personal appearance it is because...”
While speaking, Monsieur Tournesol poured a little scent on his handkerchief.
Well, Madame de Meyrens is my worst enemy.”
“The devil she is! Now that’s most unfortunate.”
“If you were better acquainted with the lady, you would wonder what she’s doing in Sever Turn.”
“To tell you the truth, I am not a very inquisitive person, and as long as a woman is charming and doesn’t mind being told so...”
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 130