Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  “No, no,” interposed the Kanaka. “Stay where you are, you mustn’t touch his hand. You mustn’t touch him.”

  “It’s not allowed,” agreed Chéri-Bibi. “You see I’m suffering from some contagious disease...”

  “I can’t see anything, it’s too dark,” groaned the Dodger. “I’d like to see your face... to make sure that you’re not off color.”

  “You can’t have a light. I can’t allow it for the present,” broke in the Kanaka again. “He mustn’t tire his eyes.”

  “But, good Lord, what’s the matter with you?”

  “I’ll tell you that later on, Dodger.... Now we must talk of serious things.... And be quick about it, for the Kanaka, who knows his business as a doctor, won’t give us more than five minutes.”

  “Five minutes.... How weak your voice is.... I can scarcely recognize it.... You must have had a bad time, old man.”

  “He is weak.... That’s quite true.... Don’t tire him,” said the Kanaka. “Get on with it.”

  “As to the Kanaka,” said Chéri-Bibi, speaking with some difficulty, as if it hurt him to move his jaws and he was too exhausted to articulate his words clearly. “You must tell the Toper and the others that the Kanaka has looked after me well and saved my life, and they must carry out his orders in any and everything.... Now listen carefully. The Kanaka saved my life. That’s worth a bit. He must have a million francs for himself.”

  “The others will never agree to that,” said the Dodger.

  “You needn’t tell them and they won’t know about it. The Marquis, who is very generous and whom the Kanaka has also looked after well, agrees with me that ‘it’s worth a million.’ You’ll see it all set out in the papers. It’s six millions that’ll be handed over to you, one million for the Kanaka apart from the other money.... Now listen to this: By the time you come back I hope to be well again, but if I am not... we must look ahead... if... if I’m dead...”

  “Don’t talk like that... don’t say that.... I’d much rather stay behind...” groaned the Dodger.

  “Well, if anything does happen to the Marquis or me, or to both of us, you will be carrying out my last wishes by giving the Kanaka a million francs without letting anyone know about it.... Is that understood?”

  “That’s understood,” agreed the Dodger in solemn tones. And he turned towards the other body lying in the darkness on the opposite side, but the Marquis was as motionless as if he were dead.

  “You are artful and have your wits about you,” went on Chéri-Bibi with a sigh. “If you follow the instructions that I’ve written out, you won’t run into any danger, and it will be as easy for you to get the money as it is for a workman to draw his wages on pay day. You will be put ashore to-night. Don’t show yourself for a couple of days, and then we shall be some distance away. If anyone asks for your papers you can say that you left the Estrella while she was coaling to go on the spree, and you haven’t got any. They made you drunk and you’re a Frenchman who wants to be sent home.... You’ll pull through right enough.”

  “Yes, you needn’t worry about that. I wasn’t born yesterday, you may be sure. Everything will be all right, never fear.”

  “I know you, old man. You have a knack of getting through difficulties. You musn’t dawdle. We’ll give you five months to the day. Five months from now we shall wait for you for two or three weeks at Palmerston in the Northern Territory of South Australia. It’s a nice little place which I know well, and it’s as quiet as can be. You can write to me as instructed in the papers, addressing me poste restante. To get back you must take the China boat and stop at Batavia. There is a service of steamers between Batavia and Palmerston. Do you follow me?”

  “I understand.... Five months.... That’s a long time without seeing you.”

  “Afterwards you shan’t leave me, my dear old Dodger.”

  “Have you finished?” asked the Kanaka.

  “Oh, give us another minute longer, you know,” begged the Dodger, who felt an inclination to weep.

  Chéri-Bibi seemed to make an effort, and he said with a deep sigh:

  “You will have the luck to see Cecily.... Well, have a good look at her... look at her for me.... And when you come back you’ll be able to tell me if she is as beautiful as ever.”

  “Well, he doesn’t trouble himself much about the Marquis,” thought the Dodger. And he turned his eyes once more to him, but the Marquis still maintained his deathlike attitude. “I don’t like the look of it,” he said to himself.... “Sure enough he’s kicked the bucket; already.... Why doesn’t he stir?”

  But the Kanaka interrupted his reflections and made him get up.

  “Good-bye, Dodger.”

  “Good-bye, Chéri-Bibi.... I’d very much like to shake hands with you before I go.... Isn’t there any chance?”

  “No,” said the Kanaka.

  “All right, all right. I’m off. Good-bye, Chéri-Bibi, good-bye.... Get better soon.”

  And he allowed himself to be put outside the door as he burst into sobs, The Estrella stopped that night. A long-boat was lowered and soon landed the Dodger on a lonely part of the coast.

  “Good luck,” cried the Kanaka, who had accompanied him so far.

  “Good luck.... Look after Chéri-Bibi and you can count me as your friend.”

  The long-boat’s crew were already pulling hard for the Estrella, whose lights could be discerned a few cable-lengths away.

  “A million francs,” said the Dodger to himself, thinking of the Kanaka. “Well, there’s a sudden death merchant who doesn’t look after the poor for nothing.... His prescriptions cost a bit!”

  And he plunged into the bush.

  EXTRACT FROM THE TIMES

  (From our Special Correspondent)

  SINGAPORE.

  “It is officially announced that an end has been made at last of the notorious Bayard and her convict crew. The French cruiser La Gloire, which was on her track during the whole of last year, and from which she succeeded in escaping in the many groups of island of the Malay Archipelago, came up with her in the Molucca Sea, near the Sula Islands. La Gloire at once opened fire. A quick engagement ensued, and the Bayard was blown up. Three-fourths of the crew were drowned. The remainder, who had taken to the boats and were attempting to escape, preferred to be shot rather than to surrender. La Gloire picked up over a hundred dead bodies, among which they were able to identify the leader of the gang, the Kanaka, and the Countess, his terrible wife. It is known that the Kanaka took over the position of Captain of these abominable pirates after Chéri-Bibi’s strange disappearance. Thus ends the astounding organisation which has occupied the attention of the whole world for such long months, and which terrorised the entire China Seas; but the fact remains that the infamous Chéri-Bibi is still at large; for on the best of authority it can be stated that he left the S. S. Bayard some weeks before she was sunk.”

  The amazing circumstances in which Chéri-Bibi was able to impersonate the Marquis du Touchais, and the further adventures of this extraordinary character are told in “Missing Men,” which will be published shortly.

  Chéri-Bibi and Cecily (1916)

  Translated by Hannaford Bennett, 1923

  Original French Title: ‘Chéri-Bibi et Cécily’

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I

  CHAPTER II

  CHAPTER III

  CHAPTER IV

  CHAPTER V

  CHAPTER VI

  CHAPTER VII

  CHAPTER VIII

  CHAPTER IX

  CHAPTER X

  CHAPTER XI

  CHAPTER XII

  CHAPTER XIII

  CHAPTER XIV

  CHAPTER XV

  CHAPTER XVI

  CHAPTER I

  COD IN THE SPANISH WAY

  THE DODGER LANDED at Palmerston, the small, rising capital of the Northern territory of Southern Australia, with six million francs in his trunk. A fine harbour, a few huts, a few wooden churches and chapels and a few brick houses — suc
h was Palmerston. But the Dodger did not stop to admire the beauties of the landscape. It seemed to him that he could discern in the distance, in the roadstead, a large vessel lying at anchor which bore a look about her of the “Estrella.” Nevertheless he did not recognise her under her latest flag. Since he left her, the transport had probably changed her appearance, her flag, her name. What adventures had she passed through? What news was in store for the poor Dodger?

  After depositing his luggage in the hotel, he hastened to the post office, and came out with a letter addressed to him as he had reason to expect. At that moment he stumbled against a short fat man who fell sprawling against his legs.

  “Little Buddha!”

  “The Dodger!”

  “Well, old man.... Here we are again... I say, what’s the news of Chéri-Bibi?”

  “Give me your news first. Have you succeeded in the job?”

  “Yes. I’ve pulled it off. But how’s Chéri-Bibi?”

  “It’ll be a great consolation to all of us that you’ve succeeded.”

  “How’s Chéri-Bibi?”

  “Chéri-Bibi is dead, old man.”

  The Dodger collapsed in his arms. It was a knock down blow. Little Buddha carefully attended to him, and when he opened his eyes:

  “Where’s your luggage?” he asked.

  “At the hotel.”

  “And the millions?”

  “Also at the hotel.”

  “Well, old man, you do take risks... I say, look here, you are a chicken-hearted chap.... You don’t seem to have much red blood in your veins.”

  He carried rather than led him to his hotel which was the only one in Palmerston at which a traveller with millions in his trunk could stay. Little Buddha lost no time in giving the order for a handcart. Nor did he remove his eyes from the trunk. The luggage was taken, at his request, to a ship’s boat which had been waiting for him, and in which the Dodger let himself slide more dead than alive.

  “Push off,” Little Buddha ordered the sailors. The boat left the harbour and headed for the outer roadstead.

  “You did well to hurry up. You’ll just be in time for his burial!” said Little Buddha.

  The Dodger raised his eyes to heaven and silently wept. “His burial is a figure of speech,” explained Little Buddha, “considering that we’re going to put out to sea and drop him quietly overboard lest the authorities should interfere with us. Do you follow me? We are always up against the authorities you know. In that respect nothing has changed. But answer me. Haven’t you finished blubbing?”

  “What a bit of bad luck,” sighed the Dodger. “If I hadn’t missed the earlier boat at Batavia I might have arrived in time to close his eyes.”

  “No; make your mind easy. We didn’t anchor here till this morning and he was already gone.”

  “But how did he die.... Tell me about it.”

  “He died of the same complaint as the Marquis it appears. Only the Marquis is quite well.”

  “It’s always like that,” sobbed the Dodger. “The good are taken and the bad left.”

  “Well, you know, we shan’t be half pleased to see you back with the money. We were beginning to be bored stiff on the ship.”

  “Did you see him before he died?”

  “Yes now and then... but he had lost the power of speech.... We could see that it was all over with him. Everyone was very much upset... but since there was nothing to be done, we gradually got used to the idea. We had to.... The Kanaka did his utmost to save him.”

  “Yes, the Kanaka killed him with his dodges.... Oh, what a pity... Chéri-Bibi... Chéri-Bibi.... It won’t be long before I follow him, you may be sure.”

  “You’ll make a mistake seeing that we’re rich now.”

  “Oh you, Little Buddha, you’ve got no heart. When I hear you talk like that I feel that I could do you in.”

  “You don’t say so!... You must have been very fond of him.”

  “Fonder than I am of my own life.... If you knew what a friend he was to me. And then I tell you he was a decent fellow, a good sort. Men made him go wrong.... Men and worse... bad times... and worse... fate. Fatalitas as he used always to be saying. Ah, what bad luck.

  I shall never see him threaten the Heavens with his clenched fist and say Fatalitas again.... Where have they put him?”

  “On his bed in the Captain’s cabin. His sister is watching by his bedside.”

  “Sister St. Mary of the Angels. How is she?... There’s a good girl if you like.”

  “She’s all right — Everyone’s all right.”

  “Yes, only Chéri-Bibi’s dead. To think that I should have travelled all that distance only to hear such news.” The boat was alongside. It was a dull, rainy, gusty day and everything seemed gloomy and even dismal to the sorrowing mind of the poor Dodger. His return was so utterly unlike that which he had expected after so many vicissitudes.

  In his mind’s eye he had pictured, confidently waiting for him at the accommodation ladder, the terrible visage of Chéri-Bibi whose expression would contrive to soften for him. And now his eyes encountered the inscrutable though fine and regular features of the Kanaka whom he had always detested. What business had he to be among them? Why should he bring them wealth now that he was assured that it would not make Chéri-Bibi rich? He would have liked to disappear beneath the waves dragging the millions with him.

  He loathed the miscreants. They had committed a thousand horrors. True, he acknowledged that he himself had been guilty of a few peccadilloes, but they were the result of hard luck just as they were in Chéri-Bibi’s case. He had killed, in justifiable circumstances, a couple of warders. But after all warders and police spies were of no account. It was their delight to treat the miseries of the convict world with kicks and blows from fist and revolver. Thus at least thought the Dodger who was already examining his conscience, for he felt that it would not be long before he joined his “dead pal” wherever he was; probably in the lower regions.

  He heard the Kanaka greet him as in a dream. He shook hands here and there, and caught the voices of the Countess, Little Buddha and others speaking to him but gave no heed to them.

  And he allowed himself to be taken to Chéri-Bibi.

  The Captain’s cabin was transformed into a mortuary chamber. A large black cloth bearing a white cross was over the convict whose head lay all white on the pillow and it seemed as if he were sleeping. One hand hung down. The Dodger seized it as he fell on his knees. It was the hand of a friend if there ever was one. He had often held it in his own. He recognised its rough, gnarled, hard skin and its scars; and tears coursed down his cheek upon it.

  Then he raised his head to take a last look at him. Chéri-Bibi lay there as he had known him in moments of comparative calm when he was not being too keenly pursued, and when he could “breathe freely” between two evil deeds forced upon him by his inveterate enemy fate. But he reflected that Chéri-Bibi would never “breathe freely” again.... Then he saw near him a woman who was praying, and he recognised Sister St. Mary of the Angels.

  “You loved him dearly, Sister,” he said. “You loved him in spite of his crimes. So did I. I cannot too often say that. He was not as bad as people make out, I assure you. It was all the fault of Fatalitas.”

  And he staggered out of the cabin.

  He began his eulogy of Chéri-Bibi with Little Buddha, he continued it with Sister St. Mary of the Angels, and he went through the entire crew with it. From cabin to cabin, from deck to deck, from quarter deck to forecastle, he sang the dead man’s praises.

  It was obvious that he WAS in a painful state, and they did not attempt to talk business with him that day. Moreover Little Buddha had reassured them. Nevertheless they kept a strict watch over his trunk.

  In the evening he made his way to the Kanaka’s cabin, and, after closing the door, partly undressed and took from his inside pockets a million francs in bank notes which had been sewn into them.

  “May the will of Chéri-Bibi be done,” he said. “Here i
s your million francs, Kanaka. No one will ever know a word about it. The other millions are in the yellow trunk. Take them and distribute them. I don’t want to see anything, know anything, have anything... I only want to be left in peace... I don’t want anyone to speak to me.” And he walked away and seated himself on the poop under the flag.

  Next day the ship sailed on her piratical course to the Malay Archipelago, and Chéri-Bibi’s body was cast into the sea. Was it a civil or a religious ceremony? God alone who heard the prayers of Sister St. Mary of the Angels could say.

  At all events if Chéri-Bibi were not received into Heaven he was deeply mourned on boardship. The Kanaka delivered a splendid oration to which the convicts listened in solemn silence and with great emotion. The Dodger continued to give voice to his grief. And while his comrades went back to their duties, he began his pilgrimage to Chéri-Bibi’s cage, and cell, and cabin; to the storeroom in which he had defended himself with such vigour; to the boiler in which he had hidden himself at the risk of being boiled with the soup; and in short, wherever Chéri-Bibi was wont to bend his steps.

  When he returned on deck he came up against a big fellow whom he at once recognised as the Marquis du Touchais. It was obvious that this distinguished nobleman had greatly changed. But although his cheeks were less rounded, less full than before, his features with their Bourbon lines denoting ancestry were still well-shaped. The Marquis was, in particular, less stout, but he still retained the stature and the powerful shoulders which had been conspicuous in the sporting world. Now however he walked with a stoop.

  Moreover, he continued on the sick list and under the Kanaka’s care in the special part of the sick bay which he had shared for so many months with Chéri-Bibi. His friends were told not to tire him, and he lived a somewhat secluded life, speaking as little as possible, much cast down, it would appear, by his evil fortune, and longing with impatience for the moment of his deliverance to come.

  The Dodger stared and passed him with clenched fists. Oh it was this man who deserved to be at the bottom of the sea....