“Fritz did not require any encouragement,” retorted Gabriel, casting an angry glance at me. “But have you any proof of what you say?”
“Unfortunately I have every proof, and when you know all you will no longer doubt it. Fritz did not rush at Dolores and force her to jump into the sea.”
“Did not Dolores jump into the sea?”
“No.”
“What’s that!”
“She was thrown into the sea.”
“By the Blessed Virgin... who threw her into the sea?”
“Why, Von Treischke assisted by his men. While Fritz was in agony from the wound in his throat, inflicted on him by Dolores, they bound her hand and foot, placed her in a mail bag which was in the room, and threw the bag into the sea.”
“Is this story invented to make me cut Von Treischke into pieces, Herbert of Renich?” shouted Gabriel.
He literally flung himself upon me and squeezed my wrists tight until he nearly bruised them. A terrible rage distorted his handsome face; his mouth became twisted and his eyes bloodshot with hatred.
“I swear on my mother’s life and on my hope of salvation that what I tell you is true,” I cried in the sincerest and most earnest outburst of feeling of which I was capable, for I was anxious straightway to convince him so that he might relax his grip which was beginning to make me cry out with pain. He realised that doubt was impossible and let go his hold; and I gave a sigh of relief and satisfaction.
“There’s certainly no need to look at you a second time at a moment like this,” I said, “to understand why Captain Hyx, who wants his own revenge, was right in trying to prevent you from learning the truth, and in insisting that Dolores should not tell you the whole story.”
“Dolores will have to answer to me for treating me like a child,” he replied in angry and excited tones. “But that is between her and me.... Tell me more about Von Treischke, and how it is that you know these things.”
I did not keep him in suspense but told him everything that he wanted to know. I omitted nothing which could increase his rage and hatred and I soon saw that I had reason to be satisfied with myself. Gabriel would live only to gratify a revenge which I considered legitimate and which came at the right moment to settle our affairs. But in order that my affairs, in particular, should not become worse than they were already, I asked Gabriel, who might by chance see Captain Hyx again, not to give me away but to keep what I told him a secret. He agreed with a gruff good nature that entirely reassured me. He squeezed my hand again, but it was in friendship this time, and I had no cause to cry out with the pain.
“You are a friend, a real friend,” declared this honest and straightforward young man. “I shall never forget what you’ve done for me.... And now tell me how I can be useful to you. You alluded, just now, to a certain plan which might save you from your enemies, and you gave me to understand that I could help you. What is it?”
“Thanks for not forgetting it, Gabriel. As you know, circumstances have placed me between the devil and the deep sea.... I am worried alike by Captain Hyx’s dangerous resentment and Admiral von Treischke’s infernal interest. As I’ve already told you he has not hesitated to imprison my mother so as to make sure that I shall give way to all Ids caprices. I can’t say what he has in store for me, but his intentions are certain to be criminal.”
“Exactly,” agreed Gabriel. “That man’s brain must produce crime with the same facility as a hen lays an egg.”
“So you will readily understand that it occurred to me, not as you feared a moment ago to give up the ghost, but to pass for dead so as to escape both the Admiral and Captain Hyx.”
“It’s not a bad idea certainly,” admitted Gabriel. “ And circumstances lend themselves wonderfully well to it.”
“Yes, that’s how I got the idea. After the catastrophe to the ‘ Lot-et-Gironde’ it will be easy for you to say that you identified, or thought you identified, my body floating in the sea. As I was not borne on the mailboat’s list of passengers, you will naturally draw the conclusion that I was on board the submarine. A public statement by you to that effect would inform Von Treischke who would no longer doubt my death, and if the information reached Captain Hyx, my presence with the Admiral would not over astonish him so that he, too, would believe that I was dead. Moreover, to corroborate your statement I will disappear.”
“Well,” returned Gabriel, after a moment’s reflection. “I have no objection to making such a statement.... I saw or I believed I saw your dead body. Your plan is not too badly invented if you disappear at the right moment. Only you must disappear.”
“That’s where I am particularly counting on you.”
“I understand you perfectly this time, my dear fellow,” said Gabriel warmly, “and you may rely on me. You can stay on my ship while I land the rescued and issue my statement. Afterwards we will put to sea. No one will know that you are with me. Together we will have a go at Von Treischke and his submarine. You will see what a wonderful life we lead; full of unexpected dangers, always something fresh and always top dog!”
I coughed slightly and Gabriel was astonished to observe my air of perplexity.
“What’s the matter?” he said. “My proposal doesn’t appeal to you as much as I thought it would.”
“Well,” I replied, “I should like you to try to come down to my particular frame of mind. It’s not very brilliant after the experiences that I’ve been through. Although I’m a neutral, it happens that I’ve been a great deal in the wars. I am feeling the strain, and I think that I’ve some right to a little rest. I devised this notion of disappearing so as to enjoy, as far as possible, a rest. Now you will admit that it would be a peculiar way of taking a rest, after my adventures on the sea, under the sea, on land, in the air, in submarines, in the auto-hydroaeroplane, in the armoured car and in other extraordinary vehicles, if I were to join a trawler in hunting Admiral von Treischke’s submarines.”
“That’s true, that’s true,” answered Gabriel. “Forgive me for making the proposal which was well meant.... But in that case?”
“In that case I’ve been thinking that you could put me ashore without any fuss at some wild spot on the coast, which you know so well, at the house of one of those rough men who are so devoted to you. You would arrange for me to stay with him as if I were really dead to the world except to you and me.”
Gabriel remained silent for a few moments and then said:
“I have exactly what you want. I can fix things up as you wish.”
He did not give me any further information for the moment, for his duties recalled him to the bridge. A sailor came to fetch me, by his orders, and took me to the bottom of the hold where I remained for interminable hours in absolute darkness, assailed by an odour which was steeped in all the waters of the well-room, and in the throes of sea-sickness, but borne up with the hope that henceforward the world would go well with me seeing that the world would know nothing about me.
From the movements and the bustle on the ship I was aware that we had reached harbour. And as may readily be imagined I had no inclination to show myself. The rescued were landed forthwith; and Gabriel must have had long conferences with the authorities. Judging from what I knew, we had entered a port on the Spanish coast, Santander or Bilbao.
The same night I learnt all about it. The “Anne Marie” put to sea again, and Gabriel himself informed me that we had left Santander behind us. Half an hour later, after we had shaken hands warmly in farewell and he had said a few cheery words, I left the “Anne Marie,” and a ship’s boat landed me in a rough sea on a rocky and stony beach.
I was accompanied by a boatswain who did not leave me immediately. He showed me the way for about half a mile until we came to the headland. Here in a break in the cliff was a small fisherman’s hut; so small, indeed, that to see it in the darkness we had to lean forward. My escort knocked in a somewhat peculiar manner, and the door was opened. A few words, of which I understood nothing, were exchanged in the doorway be
tween my guide and a rather fierce-looking figure, and then the former with a gesture of farewell walked away.
The figure pushed me into a hole, the door was closed, and I was in a sort of tomb in which, I imagined, it would not be at all difficult to pass for dead. Was I not almost half-dead already? And was this not what I wanted?
CHAPTER XIV
OF THE DIFFICULTY OF PASSING UNNOTICED IN THE WORLD
A HOVEL LIT by a smoky resin torch, a few clothes and nets hanging in a corner, a table on which lay the remains of a rough-and-ready supper, a bottle of rum, two glasses, a man and a woman, my two hosts, whose faces would have been the delight of Zulonga; evil faces, tan coloured with age and the most violent passions — such was the sight which in the first place met my gaze. And four gleaming eyes stared at me less from hostility than an obvious curiosity. I was told somewhat bluntly to sit down and at once invited to partake of the joys of the bottle.
I was so pleased with myself and with the state of affairs that — will it be believed? — I did not refuse a glass of the burning liquid. Who would look for the fastidious Herbert of Renich inside this infernal den, among these two wretched specimens of humanity? Who, indeed? I had but to subdue the instinctive aversion of a nature spoilt from childhood by civilisation, in order that civilisation, which at that time was so harsh a mother to me, might ignore me for the future. And I set myself to drink rum from a dirty glass.
I envied the different kinds of weaknesses which had ravaged the countenances of Senor José and Señora Augustias, for such were the names of my hosts, confided to me with an affecting pride. I coveted, in particular, their squalid clothes, and to such an extent indeed, that I did not hide from them my longing to wear the like at the earliest moment. I was supplied in this respect sooner than I hoped. By rummaging in the box which served me as a seat, the necessary garments were found. I was at once dressed in rags, and I had no doubt that I should be inconvenienced in other ways by these same rags. But it all seemed to me an indispensable condition of my deliverance, and I considered that a scalding throat and a little itching were not too much to pay for my freedom.
What more can I say? My happiness was complete when I learnt from Don José that my name was Benito like the others. I had the honour of being his first cousin, arrived recently from Oviedo on family affairs, and my business was to beg at the main porch of the cathedral with a card hanging from my neck; a card on which it was permissible for anyone who could read to inform himself of my infirmities. I was deaf and dumb.
At this last discovery which rid me of the fear of being taken for a sham Spaniard either because of my indifferent acquaintance with the language or because my accent left too much to be desired, I could not withhold a cry of thanksgiving to Heaven for thus suddenly showering upon me its blessings. Accordingly, after wishing my hosts good night, I stretched myself on my pallet, and I slept for eighteen hours on end in an oblivion which I had not known for a long time, and which I have never since experienced.
When I woke up the next day Don José and Señora Augustias were leaning over me with friendly grimaces and they paid me a thousand compliments on the clearness of my conscience, for only an honest man could fall into such an unbroken slumber. I had to eat, to please them, some fish soup which, for that matter, was delicious.
Afterwards Don José showed me the card which was intended for me, and which he had himself fabricated, and on which he had inscribed in capital letters these saving words Sordo-mudo (deaf and dumb).
I at once hung the card round my neck, determined not to make my reappearance in the world, that is to say, outside the door of the hut without its protection.
The weather was such that one would not, as they say in France, turn a dog out of the house. The sky and the sea seemed to be joined together by a curtain of rain; the waters flowed down the cliff with irresistible force stirring up mud and slime. It was as though the world had been turned into a mass of mud. Well — will it be believed, I repeat? — the world that day was more beautiful to me than if there had been the most beautiful rosy-fingered dawn, more beautiful than the morning in which after my escape from my prison in the “Vengeance” I threw myself on my knees on the cliff of one of the fatal Cies Islands to return thanks for my safety.
Yes, it was so! And how could it be otherwise? That day — the day on which I wore the card — I was not only rid of the “Vengeance,” but of her Captain and Admiral von Treischke, and of all the worries great and small, frightful or ridiculous, which had fallen on the head, from the four quarters of the horizon, of a poor respectable man whose sole offence lay in his wish to remain neutral — as far as possible — in the great war....
It was under this douche of happiness — the rain from heaven — that Don José and I wended our way to the city of Santander. We arrived there, soaked to the skin, through the Calle de Burgos; and then we found ourselves in the Plaza del Peso, where we took shelter under an arcade.
I fancied that the persons who were passing through the arcade regarded us with more than ordinary attention.
Thus I did not hesitate to hold out my hand and to beg with a sort of incomprehensible grunt such as is heard from the deaf and dumb. Don José at once gave me a vigorous nudge in the side, enough to take my breath away, and when the people passed out of sight without giving me anything, he treated me with the utmost severity. He flung at my head unimaginable reproaches. He told me that I was dishonouring him, and that if his family knew that he was offering hospitality to an unbeliever who held out his hand in the arcades of the town, they would disown him. He advised me not to acquaint Señora Augustias with the incident if I wished to be received again on a friendly footing under his roof. Finally, after a number of other speeches of the same stamp, of which, however, I could not make head or tail, but which since they were addressed in a loud voice to a deaf and dumb person did not fail to astonish a few passers-by who were not in the secret, he requested me to follow him with an imperious scorn which, while it abashed me, filled me with admiration for him.
We were soon in the old town, outside the cathedral, which was a thirteenth century Gothic building with three naves. I at once classified it from habit, like a traveller who has learnt from guide books to interest himself in churches and the period at which they were built. It was the more creditable to me in the circumstances, for the outside of the building, which was somewhat heavy, had been debased by restoration. I tried to parade my knowledge before Don José but he fixed me with a severe look, pointed to my card, and from that moment, coming to myself as a deaf and dumb person, I took care not to open my lips.
The belfry of the cathedral reared its tower above an open porch which was on a level with the street and possessed an ogival roof. It was here that Don José brought me and introduced me to a company of mendicants, men and women, who, after a few words from him, gave me the heartiest welcome.
One of them, a man called Ramon, for whom they all seemed to have the greatest respect, was good enough to take me under his protection. He placed me next to himself, almost pushing me into a niche from which the stone saint was missing. Don José shook me by the hand and wished me good luck. Don Ramon handed me a small tin bowl in which he had had the kindness to place a few pesetas by way of bait, and he declared that the morning could not fail to be lucrative, for we could rely on a first-class funeral and an important wedding. At that moment several of the faithful entered the cathedral, and a concert of supplications went up to which I added my grunt.
Don Ramon — I call these Spaniards for in spite of the fact that they were poorer than Job, they imposed upon me by their most fascinating air of dignity — watched me at work, and when we were alone, that is to say, among ourselves as mendicants, he addressed a few words to me which caused much laughter. It appears that I shut my eyes when I begged as if I were blind, and my card bore the words “deaf and dumb” only. Were not these defects sufficient for one man? I ought, he said, to leave a few for the others.
Don R
amon had an eye to his own interest, for he passed as a blind man which in reality he was not. Indeed it was a matter of complaint with him. He said flatly that it was torture to him to beg as a blind man and not to be blind. However you might keep a watch over yourself, he explained, there were moments when you risked betraying yourself in public, and a moment of distraction might ruin the work of a lifetime! But it couldn’t be helped. Since Heaven had not accorded him the grace of being born with some solid natural infirmity, he was thankful that he had been endowed with an ingenuity which had enabled him for more than half a century, by simply blinking his eyes and tapping the pavement with a stick, to keep himself, to get on in the world, to marry, to bring up his children and to place them suitably, and also to put by a little for his old age.
The speech was greeted with a murmur of approbation, and a few steps away from me, a poor little cripple without legs who was still a boy applauded with the full force of the hand clumps with which he moved along the ground. His name was Potage, and an old woman, on crutches, urged him to take a lesson from Don Ramon’s exemplary life which was so well regulated in every respect that he deserved to be the richest man in the fraternity. “It is not by buying lottery tickets that one obtains an honourable place in the company,” added the old woman, and not one of the mendicants around her, who either wore bandages over their eyes or carried their stumps in slings, dared to contradict her.
The first-class funeral brought me in two pesetas and the important wedding two reals.
Nevertheless I was delighted with my morning and Don Ramon congratulated me. After the wedding, although it seemed to me that the time for lunch was near, we remained behind to gossip about the festivity and to talk scandal about the guests who were nearly all persons of distinction. The mendicants knew them by their Christian names, and they could tell stories more or less edifying about them. Each of these individuals was dressed in keeping with his turn of mind and his habits of charity, as was quite logical. The poor are better able to judge than anyone else the qualities of heart of people around them by the alms that are given or refused them; and they can foretell better than anyone else the place which this proud man or that great lady will occupy in Paradise.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 367