Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

Just then his study door was opened and Jean came in.

  “Well, Rouletabille, you ought, to be very pleased,” began de Santierne. “The papers are full of you.”

  “Oh, my dear fellow, the papers contain some mention of you too,” returned Rouletabille, making an effort to hide the emotion to which he had yielded when his friend entered the room. And he pointed to the announcement of the forthcoming marriage.

  “Well, yes, they mention me and Odette too, of course. But you are the hero. You are the deus ex machina.... The man who triumphed over fate and tricked the people of Sever Turn — is you. I’ve come to say that Odette and I are eternally grateful to you. Once more, thanks!”

  “I have already told you that it is not worth mentioning.... Come, old man, shake hands and go back to Odette.”

  “Do you want to get rid of me?”

  “No, but I thought that Odette was waiting for you.”

  “That’s true.”

  “There’s nothing the matter with her?”

  “No. What a question!”

  “Oh, I asked, you know, because I thought she might have come with you.”

  “She wanted to come, but I found some excuse...”

  “To come by yourself?”

  “Yes.... But she won’t be bored. She is going shopping with her old governess — the woman, you know, whom Monsieur de Lavardens dismissed in such strange fashion after Odette and she paid a visit to her aunt,” said Jean, turning scarlet.

  Rouletabille gazed at him steadily and sat down with his normal composure.

  “Yes,” went on de Santierne, looking more and more uncomfortable, “I decided to come here alone because I wanted to talk to you about Madame de Meyrens.”

  “Is it really about Madame de Meyrens that you want to talk to me?”

  “Yes... the Octopus... and also about another matter connected with the Octopus — another matter which I ought to have discussed with you some time ago, but I said nothing out of delicacy, because I know that you are above certain possibilities and certain people. Besides, you are above all these things. Do you follow me?”

  “No, I don’t follow you, and I should like you to explain — to explain clearly what you mean,” returned Rouletabille in increasingly icy tones.

  “Well, old man, after all I should prefer to do so. I am perhaps an ass, but this is what came into my mind. I said to myself: It is out of the question for Rouletabille to have invented that fake at Sever Turn on the spur of the moment.”

  “What fake?”

  “Well, your disguise as Madame de Meyrens — unless you had been used to doing it. Am I right?”

  “Go on, I am interested,” returned Rouletabille stonily.

  “The fact that de Lauriac was so easily taken in at Sever Turn proves that he saw before him the only Madame de Meyrens he had ever known — the woman whom he met at Innsbruck. And the woman whom he met at Innsbruck was Rouletabille disguised. Have I guessed the truth?”

  “You do yourself an injustice in considering yourself an ass. You show remarkable intelligence,” said Rouletabille.

  “Well, let’s have a good laugh over it, old man. I am delighted to have guessed it.... Why don’t you laugh?”

  “Before I laugh I want to know if you guessed anything else.”

  “Hang it all, you were playing a pretty game with us. And I was under the impression that Madame de Meyrens crossed the frontier after we did and joined forces with de Lauriac. The devil she did! She joined forces with de Lauriac and wormed all his secrets out of him! Oh, you are deucedly clever.... And I was playing the spy on you — and got frozen waiting in the street for you! — I who went back to the hotel and found you in your pyjamas. You had just got rid of Madame de Meyrens’ skirt and veil, you villain! And you stuffed me with all sorts of stories about the way you were occupying your time, and your visit to that devil de Lauriac’s room. All the same, thanks to your trick, you learnt the meaning of the Romany page.”

  “A wonderful inference,” said Rouletabille.

  “You then found out that de Lauriac — he told you so himself — had everything to gain by getting hold of Odette and handing her over again to the gipsies, and that was why you decided to look for her on the road to Sever Turn.”

  “What must be very gratifying to you is that there is no need to explain anything to you,” said Rouletabille with the utmost gravity.

  “But there is,” returned Jean. “I am going to ask you to explain something. That loathsome de Lauriac told me that Madame de Meyrens...”

  “Ah, now we are coming to the point.”

  “That Madame de Meyrens — in other words you — showed him two letters from Odette, proving that she came to your flat in Paris. You will understand how I received his statement. I refused to hear any more. I gathered afterwards that you were obliged to show him these so-called important letters so as to induce him to show you the sacred book and in order to convince him absolutely of the reality of the supposed Madame de Meyrens’ ill-will towards Rouletabille and myself. But I can positively assure you that I felt certain from the beginning that the letters were not real, but concocted by you for the necessities of the case.”

  “Have you ever spoken to Odette about these letters?”

  “No, that would have been an insult to her.

  Nor did I speak of them to you for the same reason.”

  Rouletabille rose from his chair and gripped Jean’s hand.

  “You are a very decent fellow. But this time you have not guessed right. The letters exist and were not faked by me. Here they are,” he added, not without a certain emotion, taking them out of a drawer. “I have not had an opportunity of returning them to Odette. I give them back to her future husband.”

  Jean was in an indescribable state of excitement.

  “Odette came here to your flat!”

  “Yes, here to my flat.”

  “And I knew nothing about it.”

  “You knew nothing about it. Calm yourself, Jean. I command you to calm yourself. Look me in the face and don’t play the fool. Odette came here half mad with jealousy.... She was like a little savage — a being who frightened me, for I was unaware then that she was a gipsy. Oh, I assure you that she loves you, for it was on account of Callista that she hated you! She hated you for a time, and her old governess and I had great difficulty in restoring her peace of mind. Remember, she caught sight of you in the street driving in a car with Callista. At last she began to cry. Then it was easy to reason with her. I showed her letters from you, from which it was as clear as noonday that you had been wanting to break with Callista for some time. Finally I was able to take her to the train with her governess, and, ashamed, she made me promise never to tell you of her trip to Paris. Now you know everything, old man. What more can I do for you?”

  CHAPTER LX

  IN WHICH WE ARE BROUGHT TOGETHER IN LAVARDENS FOR A CEREMONY WHICH WILL NOT SURPRISE THE READER

  WHEN ROULETABILLE AND Jean were not wrangling with each other they were the best of friends. Jean was so delighted with what he had just learnt, and his personal affairs seemed to have taken so favourable a turn that he embraced Rouletabille.

  “You are a most wonderful friend,” he cried.

  “Why ‘most wonderful’?” protested Rouletabille, gently releasing himself, “I am your friend, that’s all.”

  “That’s all! What splendid words,” said Jean, solemnly wiping his eyes. “Now, I’ll tell you what it is...”

  “Don’t tell me,” interrupted Rouletabille, opening the door. “You can’t have anything else to say to me. Odette is expecting you. Go to her.... Give her my love.... Good-bye.”

  “What do you mean, ‘good-bye?’ Aren’t you coming to Lavardens? Don’t you intend to be present at our wedding?”

  “Well, old man, I want to take a holiday somewhere hereabouts — in America.”

  “If you ever do that... if you go to America before we are married, well.

  Well, what?”

 
“I shall begin to think... No, I won’t think that,” he said quickly, for Rouletabille stood before him deathly pale. “But do stay.”

  “All right,” said Rouletabille, giving him an ice-cold hand. “ I will stay,”

  Jean hurried away.

  “I will stay since they want me,” Rouletabille said to himself, and he closed the door, threw himself into, an arm-chair, and lit his pipe. “He is very nice. She is very nice. They will make a charming couple.” Just then the door was opened and Jean ran in panic-stricken.

  “Rouletabille, she’s here.”

  “Odette?”

  “No, Callista... Callista is back.”

  “Oh, is that all?” said Rouletabille, dropping into his chair once more. “I knew that.”

  “What! You knew it and kept it from me. Why, Callista can’t have returned to Paris with any good intentions.”

  “You may depend upon that,” said Rouletabille. “But be easy in your mind, my dear fellow. I took good care that she shouldn’t come to Paris alone. Poor Callista! She might have been dull here.”

  “What then?”

  “What then?... That’s all.... Never mind about her. Or rather, take Odette to Lavardens at once, and don’t worry, but get married.”

  “I shan’t feel safe unless you come with us.”

  “Well, I’ll come with you. Are you satisfied now?”

  “Odette will be satisfied, too. But, tell me, is there nothing to fear from Callista?”

  Rouletabille shrugged his shoulders.

  “As soon as I learnt that Callista was in Paris — and I expected her — I made arrangements for Andréa to join her here. He arrived this morning. He has already got her in hand, and, I can assure you, he won’t let her go.”

  “Oh, Rouletabille, you think of everything. How shall I ever be able to show my gratitude.... Look here, old man, if the Octopus becomes a nuisance — for it strikes me that she will want to be revenged for the freedom with which you made use of her identity in Innsbruck and Sever Turn...”

  “How well you put it: ‘made use of her identity....’”

  “Now, you’re chaffing.... Well, give me the hint and you will see that I shall be ready...”

  “That’s only what I expected from you, old man. I rely on you.... Hell and fury, the Octopus had better look out for herself!”

  A few days later Jean and Odette’s wedding took place in the church at Lavardens, which was all too small to hold the many friends who had come without being invited; old friends from Camargue, Crau and the Arles country.

  The many herdsmen from the surrounding farms, and the fisherman from Les Saintes Maries, were bent on offering their good wishes to the little lady of Viei-Castou-Nou, whom they remembered as a child hanging to the manes of the colts let loose in the meadows. Some of them recalled that she was not in those days accompanied in her gallops by a young man from town. All the same, de Lauriac’s name was not mentioned.... There are fairy-like forms which are far above the deserts of some men.... It is a risky thing to try to ride after them, outside one’s own morass.... Somewhere there is a morass which opens and engulfs one. There is a song by a great troubadour which goes something like this: “I love the sense of space, and yet I am held in bondage. I go barefooted among the reeds. Love is a gift of the gods, but love is corruptible; and after the frenzy of the struggle comes disillusion.”

  In truth Jean de Santierne was a handsome bridegroom, thought the gossips. “There is a great difference between a stable-man and a man like Jean, so elegantly attired, so refined, and so wealthy, my dear.... I can understand how proudly one would walk arm in arm with him.”... Take a look at Odette as she passes.... That day from house to church, as the poet sang, the birds no longer recognized her, dressed all in white. “Who is this little witch?” they piped, and taking alarm were inclined to be suspicious, and then as they eyed her more closely thought better of it, and greeted her with their joyous twitterings.

  Thus Jean and Odette’s wedding passed off very quietly. Was it indeed quiet? Yes, because Rouletabille of course had foreseen every contingency, and bound Andréa to Callista; for, in the shadow of a column, while the beflowered procession filed past, someone was there, or rather a girl was there, who, like many another onlooker, was not an invited guest. See Callista’s deadly profile, her blazing eyes, her trembling lips, her clenched teeth! Something shines in her hand. It is not the first time that the flash of a knife, held in that hand, has menaced Odette.

  But once again the flash dies down. Andréa’s formidable paw clutches and closes round that slender wrist, and the Man of the Road takes his prisoner away for good....

  For good! She knew it now. She did not even offer any resistance. Her life with the west was over and done with.... He flung her at the foot of the caravan. She submitted to his ill-treatment with an expression of happy amazement. Why had he not mastered her before? She put on again, for good, without demur, the gipsy rags which she ought never to have renounced. Her adventure was the offspring of pride rather than love. She was mistaken in herself. How could any alien understand her? Oh, this weariness, this pleasing sense of exhaustion after the fight — this delight in surrender. Near at hand were arms trembling and open to receive her — arms which she had always spurned because she longed for the life of the town. Absurd! Absurd!... She had been a society lady, and she used to shut herself up in her boudoir to sing to herself, to the strains of a guitar bought at a bazaar, the old songs of the road, or to conjure up in silence the night encampments on the outskirts of the forest when she fell asleep stroking the nose of Chuco, the grandsire of all the dogs with the tribe — Chuco, whose white hair she was wont carefully to comb every morning. Well, Chuco was still alive, for he knew that she would return. And her old guzla, the one-stringed instrument to the music of which she had danced her first steps, was still hanging in the caravan.... Andréa took down the venerable instrument and its string began to vibrate as his fingers strummed an old-time melody.

  He came over and sat down beside her.... And she wept tears of submission and acceptance of the inevitable. And in burying her head on that heaving breast which she had so often repulsed she was not unhappy because she knew that he would be her master.

  CHAPTER LXI

  IN WHICH ROULETABILLE AND MADAME DE MEYRENS INVITE THEIR FRIENDS TO DINNER

  SOME WEEKS AFTER the happy ceremony, the Paris newspapers contained a number of references to a person who appeared to have played an important part in the abduction of Mademoiselle de Lavardens, now Madame de Santierne. After mentioning this person under her initials, which, of course, were sufficient to enlighten everybody the papers ended by giving the name in full. The person in question was Madame de Meyrens, whose adventurous life was recalled, and it was represented that she had played a most rascally trick on the powers that be — the public was left to guess which — and as a result the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department had sent in his resignation. A journalist well known even among the gipsies — look out for yourself Rouletabille! — was seriously implicated in the scandal. It was stated even that the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department had sent in his resignation only because the arrest of Rouletabille was refused. Moreover, it was added that the police had raided Rouletabille’s flat, and placed his papers under seal, confiscating a certain diary, in which the name of Madame de Meyrens, alias the Octopus, appeared on most of the pages.

  The Epoque published a vague denial which deceived no one. In press circles bets were exchanged as to whether the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department would be dismissed. Rouletabille must have considerable influence with his paper and Madame de Meyrens! One fine morning it was learnt that this Chief had been appointed Governor of one of the most important possessions in French West Africa. Rouletabille had scored, but the Chief had nothing to complain of; in short, everybody concerned was satisfied. At the same time an examining magistrate, in a small town in the south, of the name of Crousillat, was appointed, no one
knew by what act of special favour, judge in the Department of the Seine. It was rumoured that Monsieur Crousillat had rendered signal service to Madame de Meyrens.

  As to Madame de Meyrens, she was not to be seen anywhere and people were wondering whether, as a measure of precaution, she had not left France, when certain persons in the world of letters and law, and some of Rouletabille’s friends, received a card by which they were informed that “Madame de Meyrens and Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille” invited them to dinner.

  The incident caused a considerable stir. It was no longer possible to doubt that Rouletabille was parading his friendship with Madame de Meyrens. And it need scarcely be said that such an attitude was severely criticized. Jean de Santierne, who received his invitation on his arrival home from his honeymoon, flew into a furious rage. His anger was roused less by the scandal of the little dinner party, than by Rouletabille’s audacity in inviting Odette as well as himself.

  He felt greatly inclined, moreover, to say nothing to his wife, for she would wish, whatever happened, to accompany him.... He went alone to Ville d’Avray.

  It was at Ville d’Avray that the party was to meet together in a well-known restaurant facing the lake;... A lover’s party, in short, to which Rouletabille had invited his friends—” perhaps,’-’ said Jean to himself, “to announce his marriage.” And he added with a sigh, with upturned eyes:

  “Alas, poor Ivana!”

  The first person whom he encountered when he entered the fashionable restaurant was Monsieur Crousillat.

  “Hullo! You here, Monsieur Crousillat. Were you invited also?”

  “Why not? I see no reason why I shouldn’t be invited.”

  “You, a respectable magistrate, going to dine openly with Madame de Meyrens!”

  “It looks as if they are to be married,” returned Monsieur Crousillat gruffly. “In that case, people will have no further cause to blame them.”

  “Ah, I expected as much,” said Jean in consternation.

  “I don’t see why you people should be so much affected as all that. Some half-dozen of Rouletabille’s friends in the hall facing the water are pulling a long face over it. But as Rouletabille and Madame de Meyrens are in love with each other, we must reconcile ourselves to it, you know.”