He no longer took any precaution. He stumbled, fell, rose heavily, wild-eyed, in a flood of perspiration, yelling loudly his startled cry: “Who’s there!” and as no reply came, shouting in a threatening voice: “Answer or I’ll fire!”
He felt that it would be some relief to him to fire his revolver. Suddenly he fired at a strange shape that started up before him in the gleam of a sinister light. There was a terrible clash. M. Hyacinthe Supia had shattered the mirror of a wardrobe.
At the same moment a smell, peculiar to burning, assailed his nostrils. Breathing quickly he bent over the gallery dominating the main hall. In the dim light of the glass windows he descried a somewhat opaque puff of smoke ascending to the men’s tailoring department.
“Fire!” he shouted.
But what was the use? Had he not himself that night dismissed the fireman? Hardigras knew it, and was seizing the opportunity to set fire to Bella Nissa. M. Hyacinthe Supia rolled rather than ran down to the threatened department. He made a grab at the fire extinguisher but his amazement was great when he discovered that the apparatus had already been at work and the incipient fire put out through the intervention — yes by the powers! — the intervention of Hardigras.
Under the weight of this last blow the “tyrant” admitted to himself his defeat — for the time. Hardigras that night had perhaps saved him from ruin, for the new insurance policies on his latest extension of premises were not yet in order.
He returned to his rooms in a lamentable state. He refused, however, to be pitied. And he declined, moreover, the attentions of his wife and daughter, giving Antoinette a box on the ear for repeating that if he would listen to her, Hardigras would be arrested within forty-eight hours.
CHAPTER II
IN WHICH M. HYACINTHE SUPIA’S NEW NIGHT WATCHMEN UNDERTAKE TO ARREST HARDIGRAS AND THE RESULT THEREOF
AS THOUGH BY a sort of witchcraft the entire staff became aware next morning of the tragi-comic incidents of the night. The disorder in which they found their departments bore witness to the disastrous ardor with which the “tyrant,” in his pursuit of the Unseizable, had been inspired. The story of the snores, though M. Supia had kept it to himself, achieved special success. To be sure that devil of a Hardigras was up to all sorts of clever tricks. Indeed, M. Supia owed him a great debt. But for him Bella Nissa would have been reduced to ashes.
Hardigras began to be regarded as a great man.
The small shopkeepers of the neighborhood to whom he sent dismissed members of Bella Nissa staff, with his card, made arrangements to find employment for them. They had no wish to hurt Hardigras’s feelings. When the fact was reported to M. Supia he swore that the old town would soon have reason to regret their action; for he would yet get the better of this puppet and those who were acting in league with him.
Meanwhile “his majesty” Hippolyte Morelli introduced the new night watchmen to him. They stood before him, four fellows of herculean strength who feared neither man nor devil, well-known in the harbor and town and the railway goods station where they dealt more or less in smuggled goods, juggling with bales and boxes and wine casks. The first man known as Noré Tantifla, said:
“As for me if he shows the tip of his nose I’ll drag him before you thrashed to a pulp, and begging for mercy.”
“I’ll give him a licking and hand him over to you looking like strawberry trifle,” said Tony Bouta.
“I’ll have a regular go at him just to give me a thirst. Get your brandy ready,” said Cioa Aiguardente.
“And as for me, if he shows himself at all he’ll be reduced to a dirty rag,” declared Peppino Pistafun.
After they left, “his majesty” asked M. Supia what he thought of them. The proprietor answered somewhat dolefully that he had no doubt of their strength. But it was for Hardigras to show the tip of his nose, and up to that day they knew nothing of the shape of his particular nasal appendage.
“Leave it to me, and I will answer for the success of the plan,” returned “his majesty.”
An idea had occurred to him. They were nearing Carnival time and Bella Nissa had been displaying masks, fancy dresses, dominoes, and other appropriate disguises, with a variety and profusion that drew a jostling crowd ever eager for a sight of these fripperies, the preliminary signs of the coming fêtes. In fear of Hardigras these varied wonders, at night-time, had been carefully put away in boxes until the next morning.
A splendid standard, which was a worthy companion to that of Carnival itself and was to fly bravely in the main hall until Mid-Lent, attracted universal admiration. It displayed the colors to be worn at the masked ball and bore in letters of gold the inscription:
Mardi Gras is not yet dead.
On that particular night M. Morelli decided that neither masks nor fancy dresses nor banners should be put away, alleging as a pretext that the best part of a morning was wasted in bringing them out and re-arranging them. As a matter of fact “his majesty” felt that Hardigras would not be able to resist the temptation to treat himself to a few of these gewgaws for a fête of such importance, and would fain cut a figure in the most becoming finery without the need of unloosening his purse strings.
M. Morelli took all the necessary precautions; and the four stalwarts were stationed in such a way that any person creeping into the domain of temptation must needs fall into their hands. He himself took command of the field of operations. At nine o’clock that evening each man was at his post.
Before taking up his own position the staff controller once again interviewed M. Supia, and his language was so cheering and he seemed so certain of success that the “tyrant” allowed himself to entertain some hope. That night therefore was spent by him in peace and quietness. Nevertheless when eight o’clock came, surprised to be without news, he descended to the stores. He was at once painfully impressed by certain remarks from the staff who, instead of busying themselves with laying out the stock for sale, were laughing and pointing to a wretched little paper banner which had replaced their splendid oriflamme and on which was written:
Your flag will suit me. I have only to change the M into H.
Thanks!
M. Hyacinthe Supia seemed about to choke. It was as much as he could do to summon, in a hoarse voice, the staff controller. One of the heads of departments ran up and told him that he would have to give up the idea of seeing the staff controller that morning.
“I hope that you will be able to question him this afternoon,” he added, “but in any case he will certainly be better to-morrow morning.”
“What’s happened to him? Is he ill?”
“Yes, Monsieur, very ill, but it won’t be serious.”
“In that case I wish to see him at once.”
“I beg you not to insist. M. Hippolyte Morelli is not fit to be seen.”
“What do you mean ‘not fit to be seen’?”
“We cannot hide the truth from you any longer. This morning we found the staff controller rolling about on a bed of tango dominoes in a very sad state. The dominoes are spoilt.... As to M. Morelli, he was dead drunk!” M. Supia could scarcely believe his own ears. Bewildered, refusing to grasp the truth, he had to be told several times the incredible piece of news.
M. Hippolyte Morelli owed his high position at Bella Nissa less to his intelligence than to his irreproachable character, his reputation for perfect sobriety. Yet M. Hippolyte Morelli had been found dead drunk!
“And he is not the only one,” added the manager. “Not the only one! Who else....”
“All four night watchmen.”
“Damn it, what happened?”
“We do not know exactly.”
“But the whole thing is incomprehensible,” cried M. Hyacinthe Supia, who for the first time in his life became purple, seemingly on the verge of apoplexy. “Still you — you have seen him. Have you any theory?”
“Well yes, Monsieur, but I don’t know if I should....”
“Speak out. You have my orders.”
“Well, it’s like
this.... Hardigras has assumed so much importance...
“What sort of importance? Where? With whom?... In the minds of asses!”
“Exactly, that’s what I was about to remark. But as we have to do with the staff controller....”
“He’s the biggest ass of the lot!... Go ahead.... I’m listening.”
“I assume that before pitting his strength against Hardigras of whose powers he had so high an opinion, he determined to give himself and his four men a little courage.”
“Your assumption is preposterous. The staff controller has a horror of drink, and his four men are so accustomed to it that I should say it would be practically impossible to make them drunk. Hardigras is capable of poisoning them.... If Morelli is not dead this afternoon I will go and see him.... And as for yourself unless you can get rid of that thing within five minutes, you may consider yourself dismissed.”
He pointed to the obnoxious banner which in the confusion had not been taken away.
CHAPTER III
IN WHICH M. HYACINTHE SUPIA SICK OF THE WHOLE THING CALLS IN THE POLICE AND THE RESULT THEREOF
M. HYACINTHE SUPIA determined without delay to apply to the police.
By what trickery and by whose complicity had Hardigras been able to put Hippolyte Morelli and his four watchmen out of action before, so to speak, they could fire a shot? He was at a loss to understand, and as his own detectives confessed their helplessness, it became the duty of the properly constituted authorities to unravel the threads of the plot. He was paying his taxes without defrauding the revenue. The State owed him assistance and protection.
At the police station he was told that the Chief of Police was on leave, but that M. Bezaudin, the District Commissary, was temporarily acting as his deputy and would be pleased to see him. M. Bezaudin was distinguished by his extreme urbanity, and the highly philosophical manner in which he regarded the difficult duties of his office.
M. Bezaudin smiled when he beheld the proprietor of Bella Nissa enter his room. He asked him to sit down, and listened with close attention to a story with which he was already familiar. When M. Supia had finished, the official reproached him for so long delaying his visit to him. Ought he not at once to have appealed to the one force which was able to rid him of such a nuisance?
“You may return to your stores reassured,” he said. “We will question M. Hippolyte Morelli and his watchmen this very day and let you know the result.”
At five o’clock M. Supia received a telephone message. It was from the Commissary asking to see him. He hastened to the police office.
“We now know what happened,” explained the Commissary. “Last night, M. Morelli after stationing his men, himself remained without moving under a counter, until midnight. At that hour, weary of a position in which he suffered from cramp, he tried to make some movement. But behind him was a taut rope over which he stumbled and fell. At once a number of dark forms made a rush at him and deprived him of his power of self-defense.
“A bandage was tied over his eyes and he was forced to walk blindfolded upstairs and downstairs for some time. When at last his sight was restored he found himself in a spacious room hung with a cheap colored cotton fabric and decorated with framed engravings borrowed from the Bella Nissa picture gallery. A table laden with good things and bottles of champagne stood in the middle of the room, and a dozen joyous guests clad in dominoes, their faces covered with the mask which is worn at fêtes on confetti days, were feasting and making merry....
“The gathering was presided over by a domino in crimson who lolled in a splendid Louis XIV gilt arm chair.”
“I am sorry to say I recognize it,” interjected M. Supia. “This domino whom they all addressed as Hardigras wore a perforated mask of such loud colors and was so comically made up round the eyes that the very sight of him provoked laughter. It was the funniest face conceivable. Nevertheless, M. Hippolyte Morelli did not laugh, for almost at the same time, he caught sight of a hanged man behind this extraordinary droll form.”
“A hanged man!” exclaimed M. Supia.
“No, the dummy of a hanged man.”
“It’s just as I thought. They were playing at carnival.”
“We should like to think so. The effigy had a very long tongue lolling out of its mouth. Well, we should not have given another thought to this effigy had it not, according to M. Morelli, been dressed exactly like you, and had there not been an attempt to give it some resemblance to you.”
“Eh? What?... What do you say.... It was made to look like me!”
“This point is all the more significant,” went on M. Bezaudin, “as the hanged figure bore a card bearing the words: Until we get the other.’’
“That’s what we’ve come to with Hardigras,” cried M. Supia, clenching his fists.
“Yes, that’s what you’ve come to. But you may rely on us. We shall not allow you to be hanged like that!”
“I should hope not.... What did M. Morelli do then?”
“As you may imagine he felt less inclined than ever to laugh, especially as Hardigras gave orders for the guests to be admitted.... And they brought in, bound hand and foot, Tony Bouta, Noré Tantifla, Cioa Aiguardente and Peppino Pistafun. They had, of course, been deprived of their revolvers, and were forced to obey Hardigras’s orders, which were to ply their glasses with a will to your health — in other words to the health of the hanged man.”
“And well they might, Monsieur, for the entire feast was at my expense. What amazes me is that my staff controller should have agreed to drink like the others.”
“More than the others, for they compelled him to propose the most absurdly fantastic toasts. Lastly, everything was so managed that after some hours of this junketing, the unfortunate man fell down exhausted and remembers nothing more.”
M. Bezaudin ceased speaking.
“Is that all you have to tell me?”
“No, M. Supia. As you may suppose, we have drawn from this incident such conclusions as are obvious. To begin with it seems in no way natural that men of the strength of your watchmen should have so easily allowed themselves to be the victims of a practical joke by Hardigras’s gang. It is certainly the first time that force was needed to make them drink! Does it occur to you that in this there is food for thought?”
“There is nothing to think about,” declared M. Supia. “They are all in league with one another. That ass Morelli could think of no better way of arresting Hardigras than to apply to men who would go through fire and water for him.”
“I think they are capable of it,” returned M. Bezaudin.
“You needn’t tell me that, Monsieur. Come, we must arrest these fellows at once unless they are already under lock and key.”
At these words, uttered in good faith, the Commissary smiled.
“If you knew us better, M. Supia, you would realize that the chief business of the police is to leave ruffians their freedom. What could we do with them in prison? We should get nothing out of them. Whereas, if we seem to suspect nothing, if we let them go their own way, we are free to keep an eye on their movements and catch them red handed.”
“I see,” said M. Supia. “You will arrest them after they’ve murdered me. Meantime they will continue to rob me!”
“No,” declared M. Bezaudin positively. “Do you know, M. Souques?... Still you must have heard of him.... and M. Ordinal?... Don’t you know M. Ordinal either?... Well, M. Supia, I shall have an opportunity of introducing them to you. They are two detective inspectors from the Criminal Investigation Department whom the Chief of Police has had sent down from Paris to arrest a couple of notorious hotel thieves working at the present time on the Cote d’Azur — not an easy errand because these ruffians do not hesitate to use their revolvers when they find themselves too closely shadowed. Before coming here they had a score of burglaries and three murders on their conscience. You will understand that compared with these rascals your Hardigras cuts a very insignificant figure. Souques and Ordinal will arrest him over an
d above the hotel thieves just to keep their hands in.”
“It sounds too good to be true!”
“Whatever you do, leave matters alone. These two detectives will see that a proper watch is kept in the stores to-night. And it will be devilish odd if we don’t hear some news to-morrow morning.”
Next morning they did in fact hear some news. And the story was told as early as six o’clock in the morning in the Cours Saleya, round the tables and tents set up for the early market sales:
The two expert detectives, MM. Souques and Ordinal, had been attacked in the stores by two armed ruffians who suddenly appeared in their path and were about to make short work of them when two revolver shots fired, by no one knows whom, laid their aggressors at their feet, seriously wounded. The detectives at once rushed after their rescuer but were unable to come up with him. Nevertheless it was generally believed that this man was Hardigras, himself. As to the two men who were taken to St. Roch Hospital in a grievous condition, they made a complete confession. They were no less than the two hotel thieves whose operations during many weeks had terrified the guests in the chief hotels.
Some minutes later there was a scramble for the local daily papers in which a report appeared under huge headings:
Dramatic Scenes at Bella Nissa
Hardigras’s latest move.
A rush was made to the stores in the old town. M. Hyacinthe Supia, who that morning was green in the face, witnessed the assault from the balcony on the first floor. A hateful name, repeated unceasingly, went up to him: Hardigras! Hardigras! Was the crowd about to call upon him to present Hardigras with a medal for saving life? Suddenly every face became impassive with expectation, and then a loud outburst of laughter from the delighted crowd filled the huge hall and rang horribly in M. Supia’s ears.
He felt certain that this was another infernal maneuver by his enemy. He, too, looked up and beheld, hanging from the uppermost balcony, a strip of calico on which stood out in black letters in the local dialect:
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 405