Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  “Monsieur Herbert,” said Fritz, after blindfolding me once more, “the Admiral has sent me word that he is more than ever satisfied with you. Listen to this. He invites you to lunch. It is the greatest honour he can pay you. Allow me to take you to him.”

  We proceeded on foot for some time. The fresh sea air — I could taste the salt on my lips — did me a world of good. Nevertheless I was not yet entirely myself, for I had not discovered in Fritz’s words grounds for complete satisfaction. The notion that the Admiral could no longer do without me failed to rouse me to any pitch of enthusiasm.

  We passed through a number of gates after exchanging passwords and receiving fresh orders. We must have entered an arsenal. I heard sounds made by the butts of sentries’ rifles. I was taken down a flight of stairs. Next I walked across a gang plank which yielded and swung under my weight. Afterwards my feet encountered a hard surface, and then we came to an extremely narrow staircase. And I was conscious from the change of atmosphere that I was in some habitation. What sort of a place was it to which the Admiral had invited me to lunch? It could not be a vessel because we should have had to take a ship’s boat or launch in order to reach the accommodation ladder.

  Suddenly I heard a well-remembered sound... The sound of water pouring into the ballast tanks. Misery... eternal misery of my life! I was again on board a submarine... this time a Hun submarine. And when the bandage was removed from my eyes, I realised that there was no room for doubt. I was in a tiny cabin. It was like a toy cabin. One could not stand upright in it. It was rather a sort of “shelter,” and there was just enough room for a bunk into which one could slip and huddle up one’s body.

  My mind went back to the smart little cabin in the “Vengeance” far away — the washstand, the chest of drawers and the wardrobe in maple wood. And I thought of Buldeo hanging up my clothes with such infinite care. Had I escaped from that accursed but luxurious vessel to live — save the mark — in a sardine tin?

  An electric light was turned on, and I caught sight through the partly open door of Fritz whose fat cheeks contained a suggestion of malice. He noticed, of course, that I did not look overjoyed.

  “You’re all right here,” he said. “You have a cabin to yourself. They might have put you among the crew and given you a nice hammock. Certainly the Admiral has the greatest regard for you. We shall be lunching soon. Are you hungry?”

  “I was hungry just now,” I returned, “but I feel that it will be utterly impossible for me to eat the least thing unless you tell me why we are here and what they’re expecting me to do.”

  “We are starting on an expedition,” he said, without beating about the bush, “in one of the finest submarines in our fleet. She is our latest model, if you please. As to the expedition itself, you’ve nothing to complain of seeing that it is commanded by Admiral von Treischke in person and aimed, neither more nor less, against that confounded ‘Vengeance.’”

  Here was a comforting thought, calculated to give an honest man an appetite. Against the “Vengeance.”... Against the “Vengeance.” We were going to fight the “Vengeance.” We were as good as dead men beforehand. I could not refrain from giving vent to a ghastly chuckle. Fritz tapped me admonishingly on the shoulder.

  “With us and a man like you,” he said, “you will see that everything will turn out for the best,” and he dragged me into the alley-way.

  It seems that we were already underway in the North Sea, and on our guard against nets. The English laid miles of nets in every direction. They did their best to capture us with drag-nets.... I never dreamt that the principal occupation in life of some people would consist in angling for me with specially constructed nets, me a neutral, as if I were a fish, a hundred and twenty feet below the level of the sea!...

  “These nets must be very dangerous, Herr Fritz.”

  “Very dangerous. When a submarine is caught in one she rarely gets out again. But of course there is a chance of escape — one in a hundred perhaps. Don’t you think so, Commander?”

  The lieutenant introduced me to Commander Wenniger — we were passing his cabin, the door of which was ajar — who bowed politely after placing the ship’s log in a drawer of his little desk. Commander Wenniger had achieved notoriety by torpedoeing the French ship “Gravelines,” and he increased it when he cleared U 17 — the submarine which he commanded at that time — from the nets in which she was caught during a raid on the English coast.

  He invited me to sit down beside him and ordered by telephone three iced cocktails, for German sailors are not at all averse to English drinks, whatever they may pretend. We were very uncomfortably placed, for we had to sit with bent backs in his little cabin. He congratulated me on sailing on such a dangerous expedition, and was pleased, as he sipped his cocktail through two straws, to tell me that the most dreaded barrage of nets was passed, left behind. There was now no risk of running aground. The sea was deeper and freer. They could safely navigate with the compass, the gyroscope, and the sounding-line for a couple of hours still. And afterwards they would put her nose up and see what was happening to mankind in the old world. Commander Wenniger declared that with all this business of diving and dodging, it was like being back to the blessed days of his childhood “when he played hide-and-seek.”

  There were flowers on the table, on the white tablecloth, in the ward-room. The Admiral, who was received with every mark of honour, bowed to the company with a Guten morgen in the most agreeable manner. Von Treischke introduced me as one who had escaped from the “Vengeance”; a sensible man who could be counted on, and knew how to maintain his self-possession in crucial emergencies. He fired a broadside of compliments at me which no longer took effect. Nothing impressed me now that I was in the depths of despair and the North Sea, and knew that we were going to certain death, urged forward by this wild ambition to swallow the “Vengeance.” Why, their paltry U boat would scarcely make a mouthful for the “Vengeance.”

  There was no lack of food at lunch, well washed down with champagne; and it was a lively party. I had never seen the Terror of Flanders so self-satisfied. It was a sight not to be forgotten. He smiled as he indulged in his dream — his vain dream.

  “I can see,” I said quietly, “that we are going to have some sport under the sea.”

  My remark achieved considerable success, and as they drank they invoked the protection of God while the Admiral even repeated Luther’s maxim. Trink und iss, Gott nicht vergiss. Eat and drink, but think of God.

  Four officers of high rank were present who were notorious for more than one reason. Before they descended into the realms of Neptune — to use the language of Commander Wenniger — they showed the stuff they were made of by taking command of corsairs and acknowledging the sway of old-time Æolus. Whether they wanted to prove to me that they were not like the first silly fool that comes along, or whether they yielded to the desire, which certain people experience after a hearty meal, to relate their exploits, they did not spare me some of their finest stories of war, stories that would have rejoiced the heart of a hyena or a jackal.

  What was I not compelled to see?... What was I not compelled to hear? I heard that night for the first time real Hun laughter.... But I must not anticipate events. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. Let us hope that they will pay for it at long last... and may the Mother of God remember. At the moment of writing these lines the Blessed Virgin is with us in smiting the Beast, to use Captain Hyx’s words. And since the day on which they drank their champagne in my presence and made me listen to their frightful toasts, many of them have disappeared, borne away on the winds of divine wrath.

  CHAPTER VIII

  A VEILED SHADOW

  IT WAS MID-WINTER and since my experiences had made a good submarine sailor of me, I may say that life was much more endurable below than above water during this voyage. It was particularly so when we were navigating in high latitudes, giving ourselves an airing, as it were, not far from land which, if I mistake not, consisted of the Hebr
ides. At all events I imagined that the precipitous rocks of which I caught a stealthy glimpse through a scuttle when we were running awash, must be those islands, lost in the northern mists. I rather fancy that we had sundry surreptitious communications with them but they were so contrived that my attempts to make sure were frustrated.

  Life on board offered nothing in particular, of course, to a man like myself. We ate and drank to our hearts’ content, and denied ourselves nothing. More often than not I messed with the junior officers. Fritz invariably made himself agreeable. On one occasion Von Treischke tried to pump me again about those confounded Cies islands, and I detected on the horizon several questions which fluttered around the Invisible Battle, but I was on the defensive and he had his trouble for nothing.

  I often went on deck but it was bitterly cold. The stem of your pipe stuck to your lips and you were forthwith transformed into a snow-man. Nevertheless since I had the right to go on the deck of my submarine prison I took full advantage of it. The electric heating apparatus was frozen; the canvas wind-screen round the bridge was as hard as iron. There was the greatest difficulty in keeping the conning tower hatch free from ice. One man was especially told off for this work, continually scraping and pounding the ice round the hatch and letting squashed ice drip occasionally through the space in the ladder on to the heads of the gentlemen below.

  One evening while I was wandering about the upper works an incident occurred. I heard the first bell ring out which indicated that the hatchways were to be closed, and I made haste to descend the conning tower ladder. When the second bell sounded ordering the ship’s engineers to slack off the oil-motors and to work the electric-motors, it seemed to me that after the second warning I heard and recognised quite close to me a woman’s voice.

  I darted forward and in the shadow of a door I caught sight for the space of a second of the muffled figure of a woman. Not for a moment did I hesitate. All my being cried aloud: the veiled lady. Fortunately no one heard me. Moreover, I must have cried out “within myself.” She slipped away in front of me and disappeared; but on the spot where her light step had trodden, my foot nearly crushed an object, upon which I flung myself.

  I immediately locked myself in my cabin. I held in my hand a gold chain of the finest workmanship, which was broken. Attached to the chain was a pendant. I opened it in intense excitement which was immensely increased when, glancing at the miniature which it contained, I saw that I had before me the portrait of Captain Hyx.

  So after all it was she. She whom everybody believed to be dead of torture.... Oh, veiled lady... veiled lady... your life is more mysterious even than your death. Why do you hide from sight your life which might redeem so many other lives? Why do they keep it secret? And why do you lend them your aid to keep it secret? Do you fully realise the good that you might do in the world under the waters by simply saying? “I am alive...”

  And the man who has so much to fear from your death, why does he not make use of his knowledge that you are alive? What mystery connects you both that you have a secret understanding between you to leave Mrs. G — in the grave?... And what are you doing here?... What are you doing here?—” Well,” I thought to myself, “that’s simple enough. Since Von Treischke is about to meet Captain Hyx he is taking Captain Hyx’s wife with him so that Captain Hyx might surrender Von Treischke’s wife in exchange. How very simple it is.... How very simple, my dear Carolus Herbert.”

  And here, I thought, was the answer to everything; even to the question why they had so far allowed the world to believe in the death of this woman, and why she continued to allow people to believe in her death, when it was to everyone’s interest that she should be alive.

  What a number of questions I could put to the veiled lady if she would listen to me. But shall I meet her again? For days and nights we had been sailing in the same prison, and this was the first time that our shadows had crossed paths. I could tell her many things. But shall I see her again?... From the start a woman had been on board and I was unaware of it. And yet she wandered about the alley-ways of this submarine as she wandered about the streets of Renich... free to go where she liked and say what she liked. If she would only speak.... Why will she not speak? That was the essence of the whole matter....

  I heard footsteps and there was a knock at my door. I at once secreted the chain and pendant. It was Fritz looking fatter cheeked than ever and with one of his smiles that I did not like. “What is it, Fritz? What can I do for you, my boy?”

  The lieutenant closed the door behind him and sitting down on a corner of my bunk said calmly:

  “I must say a word to you which is a matter of life or death.”

  I stopped him with a shrug of the shoulders. “Herr Fritz, that sort of language doesn’t pass muster with me any more. I’m not a child who can be easily intimidated. My life now is in no more danger than yours, take it from me. Captain Hyx will see that we are all at one about that, you may be sure, and before long too. And now, go ahead.... I’m listening.”

  “Monsieur Herbert of Renich, you know that there’s a lady on board.”

  “Oh... there’s a... really... a... What do you say? I beg your pardon. What are you telling me?”

  “Don’t get excited, and don’t get red in the face. You met her a little while ago.”

  “Well, I did see a shadow in the doorway... but I assure you that it was very difficult to be certain....”

  “That’ll do, that’ll do. I suppose you’re surprised that there should be a lady on board?”

  “Nothing surprises me, my dear Fritz. Nothing surprises me, I swear.... You may have a dozen ladies on board... a couple of hundred ladies on board... it doesn’t interest me in the slightest degree.”

  “Excellent... excellent. What I’m telling you is for your own good, and to prevent unpleasantness during the voyage.... Particularly in view of your craze for discovering resemblances between people. I’ve simply come to tell you that it would be better for everyone if you were to restrain that craze of yours. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “It’s just as well.... I’ll see you later, my dear Monsieur Herbert.”

  He left me. I threw myself on my little bunk and buried my face in my hands. I concentrated my thoughts in an effort to unravel the tangled skein of this incomprehensible mystery. I turned it over and over again in my mind. Suddenly I heard a sigh quite close to me. I sprang to my feet. In front of me, in my cabin, was the veiled lady, looking at me, a finger on her lips.

  “Silence, Monsieur Herbert of Renich!”

  CHAPTER IX

  HOW THE VEILED LADY ALARMED ME BY WHAT SHE SAID, AND MADE ME ILL BY WHAT SHE LEFT UNSAID

  SHE WAS MORE disguised than ever.

  It was a strange sight to see this woman go about the submarine, her face hidden by a thick veil as though it were a mask, never speaking a word to anyone, a finger on her lips.

  For when I met her during the following days she was always the same; like some mysterious shadow, some silent phantom, gliding among the crew, passing the officers in the main alley-way, heavily veiled, never once turning aside; and when she saw me she placed a finger on her lips.

  The men did not speak to her nor the officers salute her. Obviously they had to treat her as if she did not exist for them... They were obeying orders.

  It was very strange. What explanation was given to the men? I remember that in the ruins of a zeppelin which attempted a raid on Paris but was destroyed behind the French lines, the charred remains of a pair of woman’s high-heeled boots were discovered. There was some woman whose horrible perversity of mind was such that she joined the zeppelin in its mission of dropping bombs on innocent civilian families. It was not, therefore, after all an exceptional event....

  They may have said to the crew of the submarine: “ We have a great lady on board who wishes to preserve her incognito, and to be present at your wonderful exploits. You must conduct yourselves as if you did not see her.” Not forgettin
g that Admiral von Treischke was sufficiently powerful to introduce as many persons on board as he pleased without having to offer any explanation.

  But let us leave these generalisations and return to the moment when the veiled lady entered my cabin. She raised her veil slightly, exposing her lips, and murmured: “Give me back my husband’s portrait.”

  I was more perturbed than I know how to express, and with a trembling hand I held out the broken chain and its pendant.

  “Calm yourself,” she said. “No one saw me come here. They think that I am in my cabin. I am not kept under very strict observation. They have nothing to fear from me. They know it. They know who I am, and that I must be considered dead. They know that an indiscreet word from me about that which is so greatly dreaded, and which might explain everything, would be tantamount to an immediate sentence of death. My silence keeps me here as it kept me at Renich. I have no hope, alas, but in my silence.”

  “Then, Madame, you admit who you are? How am I to know that you will not go to Admiral von Treischke and complain of my daring to know who you are....”

  “I admit who I am, Monsieur, because I cannot do otherwise. You’ve seen the pendant. I can no longer deny it. But in the presence of every other person I should shout until I was hoarse that I am not she whom I admit to you that I am. It is a question of life or death for you and for me. It would be better for you and for me that they should not know of the existence of this pendant, or at least that I have been foolish enough to wear it, and particularly, to lose it. It would be taken away from me at once. What then would become of me?... What would become of me? Monsieur, it is the only portrait of my husband that I possess, apart from the one that I always carry in my heart.” The last remark was spoken with a touch of feeling which affected me deeply notwithstanding the triteness of the words.