Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  “I love calves’ head,” agreed M. Florent. “Off we go.”

  About half-past twelve the three friends entered a restaurant standing at a corner of two busy streets. The room was already nearly full.

  “Gentlemen,” said M. Hilaire, who seemed to be looking for some one or something, “as this room is full we’ll go up to the first floor, if you don’t mind.”

  When Barkimel and Florent reached the landing they uttered a horse exclamation and shrank back. Seated at a table near the window opposite them were the two formidable sailors finishing their lunch. M. Barkimel was already dragging M. Florent by his coat-tails to the little spiral staircase when half the lanky body of M. Hilaire emerged into view.

  “What’s the matter, and what’s all the row about?” he asked in a calm voice.

  Jean Jean and Polydore had risen to their feet after throwing a bank-note on the table. They exchanged glances as they lit their cigars, and in their heavy silence appeared to be concerting by stealth joint measures to rid themselves for ever of the three interlopers who had been pursuing them since the morning.

  Their intention had become so obvious, and the grunt which came from them as they advanced towards the trio sounded so appalling in the ears of Barkimel and Florent, that they began to cry out as though they were to be flayed alive. They made a rush for the staircase. M. Hilaire received them in his arms and at once explained:

  “Gentlemen, you are, I assure you, under a strange misapprehension — accident has brought us here. These gentlemen are simply inoffensive citizens. One of them is my friend Florent, who formerly kept a stationer’s shop in the Marais district, and the other is my friend Barkimel, who was an umbrella dealer in the same neighborhood. I have known them for fifteen years. They are incapable, as you can see, of hurting a fly, and it was enough for you to give them a look to cause them almost to faint in my arms.”

  “Then you, who are bragging so much — who are you?” asked Jean Jean in a harsh voice.

  “I am M. Hilaire, proprietor of ‘Hilaire’s Up-to-date Grocery Stores,’ purveyor to Major Jacques, at your service.”

  The statement at once made a salutary impression.

  “You know Major Jacques?” asked Jean Jean in a milder tone.

  “I should think I do know him! Why, we went to the same school, and I was for a long time in the service of the Marchioness de Touchais.”

  “You know the Marchioness de Touchais!” exclaimed Jean Jean.

  “He knows the Marchioness!” repeated Polydore.

  “Yes, and Mlle Jacqueline and Mlle Lydia and the whole family, and I am proud of it, believe me. If you are friends of theirs allow me to say: the friends of my friends are my friends. The day when you are passing my place and care to come in and drink the Major’s health will be a proud day for the ‘Up-to-date Grocery Stores.’”

  “If that’s the case let’s have a drink now,” said Jean Jean. “A round of drinks to the health of the Major!”

  Feeling much easier, Barkimel and Florent warmly shook the rough hands of their newly found friends. They called the waiter. They drank, they clinked glasses. They shouted, “The Major for ever!” and after a last handshake and a last glance at the clock the two sailors took their departure. M. Hilaire darted to the window, and M. Barkimel said to M. Florent:

  “Order the lunch, I’m famished.... Well, what are you looking at, M. Hilaire?”

  “Why, at my two friends crossing the boulevard.”

  “Those shady-looking fellows seem greatly to interest you,” M. Barkimel ventured to say, pulling M. Hilaire’s sleeve.

  “They would have had very good excuse for punching our heads, you know. We were following them all the morning,” added M. Florent.

  “I presume, M. Hilaire, you heard them mention this restaurant and played the trick of bringing us here without telling us.”

  But M. Hilaire, still at his post of observation, seemed not to hear them.

  “I say, they are entering that splendid private house,” said M. Barkimel, himself looking out of the window. “Upon my word, they’re going in as if the place belonged to them.”

  The waiter came to relay the table. M. Hilaire turned to him and said:

  “Tell me, waiter, who lives in that private house opposite.”

  “That private house,” returned the waiter in a sepulchral voice, “belongs to Mlle Sonia Liskinne, and the gentleman getting out of the car to enter it is M. Lavobourg, Vice-President of the Chamber of Deputies, said to be her lover, a traitor to the Republic.... Have you chosen your lunch, gentlemen?”

  M. Hilaire ordered what he wanted. Barkimel and Florent had lost their appetite.

  CHAPTER X

  THE PEANUT DEALER

  LAVOBOURG SENT IN his name to Sonia. It was to be his first sight of her since his terrible conversation with Baron d’Askof. He had called at the house the day before at five o’clock, but was told that Sonia was out and would be dining in town. At eleven o’clock he had returned and was informed that she had a violent headache and had gone to bed and wished to be allowed to rest, but that he was to be told when he called that she relied on him to lunch with her next day.

  Lavobourg spent the Saturday night without closing his eyes. He had not seen d’Askof again, but he continued to think of him and his disclosure. And he was no longer certain of anything.

  He had no doubt that d’Askof had fallen in love with Sonia. He was perhaps actuated by jealousy. On the other hand, d’Askof had confessed that he was working for the Major only under compulsion and hated him. D’Askof had, perhaps, invented his horrible story of having surprised the two lovers to induce him to take a revenge which would play into his hands. He may, too, have spoken the truth. Lavobourg was so tormented by the thought of the truth that he was increasingly disinclined to believe in it.

  “Good morning, Lucien.”

  Sonia had come into the room. She was clad for an informal luncheon at home in one of those delightful fluffy frocks made up of a few chiffons whose art consisted wholly in the fashion in which she had arranged the folds round her beautiful supple figure. She rarely called him by his Christian name.

  “Lucien!” He stared at her.

  “Let me set your mind at rest — all goes well,” she at once said. “Nothing remains to be done but a trifling formality which I will explain, and soon all your apprehensions will be over. Come, tell me everything you’ve done since I saw you last.”

  “And you?” he asked abruptly. The retort escaped him involuntarily.

  Surprised by his tone, she gazed boldly at him, perhaps too boldly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Yes, and you? For the last two days I have been calling here, and for the last two days I have been unable to see you.”

  “You have called here — you have been unable to see me! You know quite well that you are in your own house here. Why, you are imagining things, my dear. I was dining in town, that’s all. Come, Lucien, seriously, what’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing.... Nothing,” he said, taking her hands and covering them with quick kisses. “Nothing.”

  “And besides, I have been working with Jacques,” she said gravely in her rich and sonorous voice.

  “Oh, have you?”

  “Does that surprise you? Why do you say, ‘Oh, have you?’ in such a tone of melodrama? Are you still jealous? You make me smile, you know, with your jealousy. Oh, my dear friend, if you knew how little I mean to him!”

  “Yes, that’s what you are always saying. But am I to believe you?”

  He was smiling now. He refused to credit, he no longer credited, the awful story. Sonia was too candid, too sincere, and the face that was turned to him was too honest.

  “Don’t let’s talk about these trifles,” he begged. “Let’s discuss politics. Am I soon to be in possession of the great secret?”

  “At once — after lunch you will know everything. I have been instructed to tell you everything. We’re going to spend a
nice afternoon together. Here is the program of the day: Lunch in the little boudoir. At this lunch Jacques will be present, though no one will know it, d’Askof, who will come openly, you and myself. In the afternoon you and I will have work to do. In the evening you, d’Askof and I will dine in a restaurant. We must be seen in public, my dear. Afterwards we’ll go to the theatre and at midnight sally forth to the ball in the Grand Parc, where we have taken a box. As we shall be seen enjoying ourselves until two o’clock, the Government will be reassured, perhaps, in the matter of the great conspiracy. At two o’clock you and I will return and meet Jacques here and help him to put the finishing touches to his work. And so we shan’t leave each other until — until we have saved the Republic!”

  “Does it not occur to you that you may have to fear some catastrophe?”

  “Everything is possible, but I am not afraid of it.”

  “I admire your courage.”

  Baron d’Askof was shown in. Sonia went up to him and shook his hand with great cordiality and apologized for having to leave them together for a moment. D’Askof at once strode over to Lavobourg.

  “Well?”

  “Well?” repeated Lavobourg, casually opening a newspaper. “Have you any news?”

  “And you?”

  “I? No. I may tell you that I haven’t opened a paper for the last two days, and I’ve given up trying to understand what is happening around me. I have tried to make Sonia speak. She has postponed letting me into the secret — indefinitely. I have tried to make you speak, too. You have yourself been more mysterious than all the others put together.”

  “It seems to me that there was one point on which I was not mysterious with you,” returned d’Askof in a low voice, looking at Lavobourg with some surprise.

  “Yes, I know,” returned Lavobourg, bluntly throwing down his paper. “This business between Sonia and Jacques. I will tell you the truth, my dear fellow — I don’t believe it.”

  D’Askof took a step back. Obviously he was not expecting such a change of attitude.

  “So you think I invented the story. Well, we’ll discuss it later. Hist! here she is.”

  Sonia came in again.

  “Quick, children, let’s go upstairs. The Major has arrived,” she said delightedly.

  They found Jacques in the boudoir and the table for lunch was already laid. Aunt Natcha was there to wait on them. The lunch began at first in intense silence. Lavobourg fixed his eyes on Jacques and Sonia. They did not look at each other and seemed entirely at their ease. At last the Major turned to Lavobourg:

  “My dear Lavobourg, the goal is in sight. Everything leads me to believe that we shall succeed. In case of failure I will take the entire responsibility. Sonia will ask you to render us a little service later. It’s a question of your signature. If the matter turns out badly you will be able to say that your signature was extorted from you by force and under a threat of death. I shall not contradict you. In case of success you will share my fortunes. We shall have a provisional Government consisting of a duumvirate. You and I will jointly exercise power.” Lavobourg could find nothing to say. He seemed applying himself to the contents of his plate, and yet he swallowed the food with difficulty.

  “Well, are you deaf?” asked Sonia impatiently. “No, my dear,” he returned. “The Major knows that I am quite at his disposal and wish success to his efforts on behalf of the country. As to the risks, I am ready to take my share of them.”

  “Our poor Lavobourg has much more courage than any of us,” said the Major with a laugh, “for at heart he is the least easy in his mind, but he will go ahead all the same.... It is well for you to know that certain newspapers, on my orders, have spread the most sinister reports regarding the intentions of the Commission of Inquiry. I wished to some extent to make an impression on my troops before going into battle so that they might know that their only salvation lay in victory. Baruch, the President of the Senate, informs me that the state of mind of the Senators is excellent, and fear has overcome their last scruples. At the same time I have good news of the Army. It is entirely with us. It only depends upon ourselves to obtain its assistance. It will help us if we represent the law — even if it be only for a quarter or half an hour.” That will suffice. Afterwards it will not draw back because we shall be in power.”

  “Tut, tut, that’s all very fine, but I should prefer to have the names of the Generals,” said d’Askof.

  “Don’t pretend you do not know them,” returned Jacques. “My dear d’Askof, I have not yet promised you anything. You have been so useful to us and shown such wonderful ingenuity in keeping our secrets and our persons in safety that I don’t know what to offer you. It is quite easy. You may have anything you wish. Is that not so, Lavobourg?...”

  D’Askof beckoned to Lavobourg and after taking leave withdrew from the boudoir declaring that he had not a moment to lose.

  “Oh, allow me, I have a word to say to d’Askof,” said Lavobourg at once.

  He left the boudoir, closing the door on Jacques and Sonia. Then d’Askof asked him to follow him, treading softly down a short dark passage which at the end ran parallel with the boudoir wall. Here he pushed aside a curtain and pointed to a chink in the partition to which Lavobourg applied one eye. The scene that met his view was not at first calculated to excite him. Jacques and Sonia were both on their feet. Jacques was putting some papers in his portfolio. Then they exchanged a few unimportant words.

  “And now to get away,” said Jacques. “I must put on my disguise again.... Good-bye, Sonia.”

  He bent with great politeness over the hand that she held out to him. But as he drew himself up she took his head between her hands and kissed him full on the lips. He made scarcely any attempt to resist her.

  “Sonia you are mad — mad!” And when he recovered his breath: “And you promised me to be sensible.”

  “Jacques, I adore you!”

  “You know quite well that all this is forbidden for a couple of days.... Good-bye till this evening.”

  Jacques disappeared through the small door behind the full-length portrait. Sonia remained motionless for some moments: “It’s true, I am mad.” And suddenly she murmured: “I was forgetting all about Lavobourg. Where has he gone?”

  She found him in the smoking-room smoking like a chimney.

  “This place reeks of smoke,” she cried. “I thought you had given up cigars.... And do you drink liqueurs now?”

  Lavobourg lay stretched on a divan and had ordered himself a liqueur brandy. He amazed Sonia that afternoon by the good-humored alacrity with which he yielded to her every fancy. He expressed no surprise at anything, and on learning what was expected of him at once set to work to sign the letters convoking the Chamber.

  At six o’clock his man, in answer to a telephone message, brought his bag containing his dress, clothes. Sonia had laughingly told him that he was her prisoner and she would not allow him to move a step without her, alleging as a pretext that he might be needed at any moment.

  Secretly he slipped a letter into his valet’s hand telling him to deliver it to Hérisson. The man went away but returned almost at once. As he was about to leave the house the door was shut in his face and two unknown men somewhat rudely invited him to join them in a game of cards in the concierge’s room.

  “That’s all right, Jean,” said Lavobourg, taking back the letter and putting it in his pocket. “Go and have your game of cards and do nothing except what you are allowed to do. You are under Mlle Liskinne’s orders to-day.”

  Lavobourg went to find the beautiful Sonia and told her of the incident without displaying the least ill-humor.

  “You are quite right not to take offense, dear,” said Sonia. “The order applies to everyone. There are secrets in this house. No one must leave it — without me! D’Askof will be here presently. Though I ask you to tell him nothing, unless it is absolutely necessary, he will not leave you either.”

  And as d’Askof happened to come in:

  “
Here is the Baron. Well, let’s go. Where shall we dine?”

  They dined in the Bois de Boulogne and then spent an hour or two in a fashionable theatre.

  Wherever they were seen they created a sensation. To begin with, Sonia was looking her best, and then some admiration was expressed for Lavobourg, whom many persons believed already under lock and key.

  No later than ten o’clock the Grand Parc and the supper clubs were seething with continuous excitement. Paris had started to plunge into a whirl of jazz and dancing. The crowd seemed to be giving itself up to the enjoyment of the moment, taking no heed of the terror of the morrow. Was the Republic to be wrecked? Was it to be saved? Meanwhile let them dance! And the fashions of the day, as in the worst period of the Directory, imparted to this medley the semblance of a masquerade. It was as though the tiers of boxes were filled with Floras, Hebes, Greeks, Orientals. But the most beautiful and fascinating figure that evening was Sonia, seated between Lavobourg and d’Askof excited as much by her presence as by their coming revenge.

  When she appeared in the box and removed her cloak a murmur of admiration arose.

  Among the throng staring at her with the most persistent attention were three persons seated at a table a few steps from the box. They were three respectable citizens obviously unaccustomed to the place. They seemed more shocked than enraptured by their surroundings, and Sonia’s toilet in particular roused their unfavourable comments. One of them, in fact, stared boldly at the actress. She turned her head away and gave no further heed to these three idiots unaccustomed to pay court to a beautiful woman when she favoured the chance wayfarer with a sight of her charms.

  “Turn your head away, you shameless hussy,” said M. Barkimel in an undertone so as not to be heard by any but his neighbors. “Blush if you still can at the scandal that you are causing by such indecency, but you won’t make a respectable citizen lower his eyes.”