“Do I understand!...”
“I rang the bell more than once. Some one in the distance called out in a voice which I did not recognize, ‘Who’s there?’ for of course the keeper’s lodge was unoccupied. I replied that it was Sister St. Mary of the Angels. A lantern and a shadow appeared and the door was opened. Who opened it? It was Rose, the lady-companion, to whom I had never had the opportunity of speaking, because though the old lady was pleasant enough with her mistress, she was quite surly with other people.... She never stopped to chat with any one. Apart from her association with the old Marchioness there was something mysterious about her. On that evening, however, she received me quite amiably, though it seemed to me that when she took my hand to lead me through the garden her fingers trembled. I thanked her, telling her that I knew the house perfectly well, for I had lived in it when I was a child.... With that she coughed in an odd manner and changed the subject. I already had a vague feeling that a trifling something had happened that was not entirely natural. When all is said, it may have been usual for the old lady’s hand to shake like that. She showed me into the drawing-room, where I found the two marchionesses and the little boy.”
“How old is Cecily’s child?” asked Chéri-Bibi in a low voice.
“Young Bernard must be six years old now,” answered the nun, who had not failed to observe the emotion which seized her convict brother whenever she mentioned Cecily’s name. “The child is very fond of me because I’ve rather spoilt him when I’ve had the opportunity.”
“He’s like his mother, I suppose?” questioned Chéri-Bibi fiercely.
“No, he is not a bit like his mother; he is almost dark, while she is fair.”
“Hang it all, he’s like his father,” snarled Chéri-Bibi, clenching his fists.
“Well, no; he isn’t like his father either. He hasn’t got his father’s heavy and rough manner or anything that resembles him in the slightest degree.”
“Come, that’s a good thing. It would have been a pity had he taken after his father. It was the color of his hair which made you say he wasn’t like his mother, but he will be like her later on, you’ll see.... At all events; I hope the poor little chap will he like her.... Go on. I’m listening.”
“Old Rose sat down with us in the drawing-room, busying herself with her needlework and not saying a word. Nevertheless I felt that she was looking at me all the while. Why was she staring at me like that? We talked about the poor children, about Christmas, about the treat that we were preparing at the hospital, and, of course, the ladies promised me their assistance, and slipped a little money into my hand. I wanted to take my leave, but they would not allow me to go owing to the weather, for the snow was falling in great flakes. The wind, too, had risen. You can imagine the battle of the elements on the cliff. I saw that I must be sensible, and I stayed to dinner with the ladies, hoping that after dinner I might get back to Dieppe. But nothing of the sort. There was a regular storm. They had no conveyance at the villa at that time. They kept me for the night after sending their manservant, Jacquart, whom you knew, to inform the hospital that they need not expect me. After dinner we returned to the drawing-room, and the Dowager Marchioness, thinking to please me, recalled the days when as a child I lived in the villa with our parents. She spoke of me, but she took care not to speak of you.”
“Of course,” agreed Chéri-Bibi with a gloomy look. “Go on.”
“And yet for a moment she let herself go over the recollection of a fishing party, on the beach, when you were quite a kid, and saved from drowning a child who was bathing. Do you remember?”
“No... I’ve forgotten my good deeds... they would embarrass me,” growled Chéri-Bibi with a still more gloomy air.
“The Dowager Marchioness allowed herself to mention your name.... And then a silence fell.... We remained there, the four of us, without uttering a word.”
“Yes, my name created a slight sensation. Incidentally, the Marchioness was a blunderer.... What then?”
“I... I felt as though I were choking... and I had nothing to say.... I could not speak a word.... The two others...”
“Yes, the two others were thinking: one of them that I had murdered her husband, and the other that I had murdered her father. What a delightful party! And you, Jacqueline, for your part, were entitled to consider that Cecily’s father was the worst of blackguards. It was difficult to carry on a conversation in such circumstances.... You all three felt that you were the victims of the monster man.... Go on.”
“I seemed to be about to choke, and I began to cry wildly, unable to keep back great sobs. Then they were on their feet, the two Marchionesses who were also weeping, and kissed me affectionately, and little Bernard, who did not know what to make of it all, came over and kissed me too.”
“What was Rose doing during that time?” asked Chéri-Bibi bluntly.
“She did not kiss me, but she shook my hand in a very queer manner. She herself was trembling more than ever. She seemed to be shivering with the cold; her face was exceedingly white; and she stared at me with an extraordinary look in her eyes. Her lips, too, were bloodless as she said:— ‘Poor Sister St. Mary of the Angels. Poor little Jacqueline!’ That was the most peculiar thing of all, for we did not know each other. At least we scarcely ever met in the old days. Then why did she say, ‘Poor little Jacqueline!’ What did it mean? There was almost a haggard look about her. Besides, she wanted to leave us at once, on the pretense that she was feeling cold and not quite well. Cecily said to her:
“‘Would you like me to send anything up to you? Shall I go with you?’
“‘No, no,’ she replied hastily. ‘I don’t want anything. I’ll go and lie down. Good night, Mesdames.’ And she left the room, closing the door quickly behind her. It was as though she had fled.
“‘She’s down in the dumps again,’ said the Dowager Marchioness. ‘She didn’t used to be like that, so odd and silent all of a sudden that one can’t get two words out of her in the twenty-four hours. At one time she was liveliness itself and loved to make me laugh. One would imagine that she suffered from some nervous complaint which comes and goes without our knowing the reason why.’
“‘I have often noticed that Rose was not quite natural,’ said Cecily. ‘How long has she been like that?’
“‘Oh, for many years,’ replied the Marchioness evasively.
“They were silent before me. Obviously my presence prevented them from continuing the conversation. As a matter of fact Rose’s curious mannerism must have dated back to the time when troubles fell on the country.”
“Say rather from the time when I began my crimes; it would be simpler,” said Chéri-Bibi.... “Afterwards?...”
“Afterwards we said good night, and they gave me a room next to Rose’s. I heard her moving about during the night. She was walking up and down, and occasionally talking to herself, but I could not catch what she said. I also heard her heave deep sighs. I was greatly perplexed, as you may readily imagine. Nevertheless, worn out by fatigue, I fell asleep about two o’clock in the morning, and suddenly I was roused by my door being carefully opened.
“‘Who’s there?’ I cried.
“‘Hush.... Don’t make a noise, it’s I,’ said Rose. And she appeared before me whiter than a ghost.
“After closing the door she stepped up to me like a shadow, knelt at the foot of the bed, and shaking in the peculiar manner that had perturbed me before, took my hand in hers as she had done in the garden and drawing-room, and repeated:
“‘Poor little Jacqueline!’ And this time she added: ‘Poor Chéri-Bibi!’”
“What! She said that.... She really said that? ‘Poor Chéri-Bibi!’”
“Yes, that’s what she said.... She spoke as one in a dream.”
“Anyway, she said it. Therefore she had good reasons for saying it,” declared the convict with a catch in his breath. “Rose must know everything; that’s a certainty. Go ahead, be quick.”
Chéri-Bibi placed another spoon
ful of the draught between his sister’s lips in order to give her renewed strength. The spoon shook in his hand.
“Yes, she knows everything. She confessed as much. She said, ‘Poor Jacqueline, your brother was innocent.... ’Twas not he who killed the Marquis. It was some one else... some one else...’
“Thereupon, as she repeated in increasingly stronger and even frenzied tones ‘it was some one else,’ her eyes dilated as though she saw that other person.
.. And she had a fit of hysteria. The ladies hastened in. We thought it was all over with her. But then she grew silent, and clenched her teeth to prevent a word from escaping her.”
“It is very unfortunate that she had that attack,” muttered Chéri-Bibi.
“Yes, it was indeed unfortunate, for I’ve always believed that she came to me that night to tell me the truth; at least the truth as she knew it; whereas next day she was herself again, and nothing more was said. In fact she affected not to understand me when I tried to reopen the conversation. But as you may well believe, I did not let her off. I endeavored several times to see her. Once when I met her in church and begged her, before God, to explain herself, she asked me ‘to be patient; the time would come, but the time was in God’s hands; she would do nothing to hasten it, and it would he wicked for me, as well as for her, even to wish for that time to come immediately.’ Then she said:— ‘Don’t speak to me of such things; forget what I said if you wish to avoid a terrible catastrophe.’”
“Yes, but meanwhile I was hunted like a wild beast and taken back to penal servitude.”
“That’s exactly what I told her. She replied that you would probably be the first to wish her to keep silent.”
“It’s a bit too thick,” exclaimed Chéri-Bibi. “What can the whole thing mean? Rose no longer knew what she was talking about, that’s evident.”
“It was the last conversation I had with her. We were in the church square. Suddenly I saw her turn pale as she had done on the first night. She bowed to two persons who went past whom I did not at first notice. She left me abruptly. I have never seen her since. In the street I met the two persons who had passed us; they were Cecily and M. Georges de Pont-Marie.
“‘Rose is still a little strange in her manner,’ said the young Marchioness.
“‘Yes, a little,’ I replied, somewhat vaguely.
“Then M. de Pont-Marie added: ‘Personally, I’ve always had the impression that she was cracked.’
“You see, Chéri-Bibi, I am telling you everything that can interest you, and everything that I know. I declare before God, who hears us, that I know nothing more, not a scrap more.”
“How is it that Cecily and M. de Pont-Marie were out together? Are they on friendly terms?”
“As you are aware, M. de Pont-Marie has been her brother’s and the Marquis’s friend for a long time. He knew Cecily when she was a child. He was taking her out for a little change. Besides, M. de Pont-Marie has much improved during the last few years. He is a reformed character. He has given the go-by to the Marquis, who at the present time is cruising in his yacht, the Belle of Dieppe, in South American waters.”
At that moment a knock came at the cabin door, and Little Buddha’s voice was heard.
“Captain, the look-out man signals castaways on our starboard bow.”
CHAPTER IX
FATALITAS
CHÉRI-BIBI WENT ON deck at the moment when the Top, promoted to the rank of chief helmsman, was receiving instructions from one of the old crew who had been forced to serve as helmsman, and was shouting to the man at the wheel:
“Hard a starboard.... Give way....”
The chief engineer at the same time gave orders in the engine room:
“Ease her.... Three-quarter speed.”
A number of inquisitive persons had already crowded on deck. Chéri-Bibi burst through them with scant ceremony and in three bounds was on the bridge yelling:
“What do I care about shipwrecked sailors? Aren’t there enough people in the cages?”
He asked for a telescope and levelled it on a white object, a long-boat which could now be seen very distinctly on the calm blue sea. The weather was superb and was rendered all the more perfect by a hot sun which was pouring down on the poor survivors in the frail boat, perhaps stricken with thirst. The boat was at most three cable-lengths away, less than a third of a mile ahead, and the Bayard was rapidly nearing her.
Chéri-Bibi had his eye fixed to the telescope.
“Fatalitas” The word suddenly slipped out, to the astonishment of his officers, who were standing by. What had the Captain discovered through the glass?
Chéri-Bibi was no longer using it. He looked up quite pale, muttering incoherent words.
Then he placed the telescope in the field of vision again, glued his eye to it, kept it there for a while, and this time looked up with glowing cheeks. There was no mistake about it. Chéri-Bibi was in a state of high glee.
“Fatalitas,” he repeated, “but it is all to the good.” Fate, it was obvious, was continuing to play tricks with him, but it would appear that on this occasion he was by no means dissatisfied.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “we are going to the assistance of those poor shipwrecked sailors.”
Standing around him were the Toper, his lieutenant, the Dodger, his sub-lieutenant, the Top, Little Buddha and the “principal” erstwhile members of his cage.
“Get your men together,” he said, “all of them, and tell them that fortune favors us by sending us shipwrecked persons whom, I hope, we may turn to good account. It’s a matter that concerns me. But for the time being my order is for each one of you to remember his rank and new position. Let there be no blunders. No change has occurred on board the Bayard since she left the Ile de Ré, nothing except a grave mutiny among the convicts, who were eventually brought to book and are again in their cages. I am more than ever Captain Barrachon. As to Captain Barrachon, he is Chéri-Bibi.”
The staff burst into a fit of laughter.
“Laugh to your heart’s content,” said Chéri-Bibi, “for presently you will have to be serious. Do you follow me? Well, let every one bear this in mind: I will hang, with short shrift, the first man who doesn’t behave himself properly. You can take my word for it.”
They needed no second warning. They quickly left the bridge, and soon the bugle rang out on deck. When the crew received the word of command there was an indescribable feeling of elation. It was an unexpected interlude which the convicts greatly enjoyed. Only fancy, women were in the boat, and they would show them how they bore themselves in uniform, and that convicts could be smart enough when the occasion offered. They were immensely grateful to Chéri-Bibi for devising this new farce which promised to afford them a delightful entertainment. The ascendancy which the new Captain exercised over this confraternity of thieves was enormously enhanced by it. —
At all events here was a chief who knew how to laugh, and understood life. No one was likely to be dull with him in command.
Matters were arranged in accordance with Chéri-Bibi’s instructions. The Bayard gradually drew near the boat, whence could be heard exclamations of joy, shouts of “bravo,” and enthusiastic salutations. It was noticed that ten persons were in her: seven passengers and three sailors. A piece of linen fastened to one end of an oar was used as a signal.
The convicts were particularly delighted that three women passengers were in the boat, and, indeed, they appeared to be very attractive women.
“Oh, lovely women!” exclaimed Little Buddha, whose enthusiasm received a check when the Toper gave him a sound kick to remind him that he must be on his best behavior.
Oddly enough the survivors seemed by no means to be starving or unduly exhausted. Nor did they have the haggard look of persons who have just escaped a watery grave.
The women, for instance, were well and full of spirits, and dressed in good taste, their heads elegantly covered with wraps; and they looked just as they might have looked after a pleasant row on
a lake.
Standing upright among the survivors was a tall, powerful, broad-shouldered man; one of those persons who, as it were, displace a considerable amount of atmosphere when they move. His full face and ruddy complexion, which was not devoid of a suggestion of aristocracy owing to the shape of his nose, which was the Bourbon nose, seemed to be that of a country squire and sportsman. Above his blue eyes were bushy brows, auburn in color, which lent some degree of hardness to a countenance whose heavy outline might otherwise have indicated good-nature.
Chéri-Bibi, leaning on the bridge, kept his eyes fixed on him. And if the entire crew of bandits had not likewise been watching the boat, they would have been astonished to see the singularly fierce look which overspread Chéri-Bibi’s face while the Bayard crept nearer the survivors. His jaws were thrust out in menace, and he hissed between his clenched teeth the name “Maxime du Touchais!”
Chéri-Bibi drew himself up, mastering the excitement which impelled him straightway to rush at the throat of the man who had been, and who still was, the torturer of her whom he loved best in the world; of Cecily, the ideal being who had never ceased to shine through the blood-stained mystery of his life.... And he repressed the emotion which moved him to cry aloud with joy at the thought of the revenge that was so near... Cecily’s husband!
“It’s my sister’s God who has sent this man to me for punishment as he might have sent him to the devil.”
How he hated him, this handsome gentleman, who had the right to go near his idol while he had never dared look at her but from afar, nor speak to her in the glad days of his youth but with lowered head and trembling voice....
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 152