Toinetta drew herself up with a tremor, scarcely comprehending him, dazed by what he said. The fiendish glee and peculiar smile that marked his words were loathsome to her.
“The sole heirs,” she repeated hollowly.
“Why, of course, thanks to that wonderful Titin, who has taken the precaution....”
“That will do! This does not concern Titin. It concerns us. It concerns me.”
“Why of course it concerns you. Please give me your attention and you will understand it all.... The man who was your godfather and guardian would have been a relative even if your father had not married poor Thélise’s sister, for M. Agagnosc was Supia’s cousin....”
“Yes, I know that vaguely, but I perceive that you are at least as well informed as I am....”
“Oh, with us princes, genealogy is about the one thing that we do understand.... But to come back to Supia, Agagnosc’s cousin. When your father became a partner of M. Delamarre’s, the sole director at that time of Bella Nissa, he sent to Grasse for Supia, who was employed in a bank. Then, he made him his chief cashier. Meantime, Agagnosc married Mme. Delamarre’s sister — your mother. M. Delamarre died and Supia married M. Delamarre’s widow, your aunt, by whom he had one daughter — Caroline. And now, you understand, Caroline is dead.... Thélise is dead.... Supia is dead.... Who is left? Why, you!”
“One moment,” said Toinetta, whose teeth were chattering “M. Supia had a sister who comes before me, and fortunately inherits everything.”
“You forget, dear Antoinette, that Mme. Cioasa has disappeared,” returned the Prince with a smile.
“She has disappeared; but she may not be dead.”
“Why do you suppose that she is not dead? All the others are dead. Do you not think she would have given some sign of life when she learnt what had happened in La Fourca since her departure? Come, I assure you, Hardigras can not have spared her any more than the rest. It is obvious that at least some terrible accident has befallen the poor old thing. We must know all about it as soon as possible. I put the matter in Souques and Ordinal’s hands, promising them a substantial payment. If we may believe the letter that I asked you to read, they have lost no time.”
“You think of everything,” said Toinetta in a whisper.
“Everything, Antoinette, where your happiness is concerned.”
He bowed low and left her. She remained in her room distraught.... “He is the murderer.... It was he!” she repeated wildly impelled by a mad feeling of relief.
“He! He!”... Those dead bodies all seemed to rise up before her while he was speaking. And the last victim, Supia himself — it was the Prince who had brought about his death. It was he who had committed all these crimes or caused them to be committed. And then she remembered the deadly look that he cast by stealth at Supia the day on which he called on the cashier at Bella Nissa and returned with two hundred and seventy-five francs... Murderer! Oh, to be sure he could play the bravado and laugh at Souques and Ordinal’s warnings. He knew well enough that no one was going to murder him.
A knock came at the door. It was the lady’s maid. She noticed her mistress’s agitation. It moved her to great sympathy for her.
“Leave me. I don’t want to see anyone. The Prince has gone out I suppose. Well, I give you all leave to go out.”
“Madame, some one has just come up the back staircase, some one from La Fourca, from Mme. Bibi, he says. He would like to see you at once.”
“Did he not give you his name?”
“No, madame. But the cook and I recognized him.”
“Who is it?” asked Toinetta with a catch in her breath.
“Titin.”
Toinetta uttered a cry.
“Oh! Show him into the lobby — at once — and not a word to a soul.”
“Oh, madame, not for anything in the world. Poor Titin. If you only knew what a state he is in!”
“Good heavens!”
She went into her boudoir. Titin came in. He leant against the wall. It seemed as if he were about to drop. She clasped him in her arms:
“What have they done to you, my Titin?”
He was in rags. He wore a shapeless overcoat, was without a collar or tie; his shirt was torn and he was bleeding at the chest. A handkerchief was bound round his forehead, and beneath was the face of a martyr — as pale as death... with wide-open eyes shining with pain.... He did not return her kisses. He slid into a chair and she had not the time to hold his head which struck the wall.
“Something to drink.... I’m thirsty... hungry.”
She rang the bell. The lady’s maid came in, looked at Titin, and burst into tears.
Toinetta grew calm.
“Mariette, if you betrayed him, you would be the death of both of us.”
“I would die first, madame.”
“Then help us. Give him something to eat and drink. Is there any beef tea, champagne, brandy in the place? Get him something.”
“Water,” gasped Titin.
He began by draining a bottle of Evian water. Later he devoured everything pell-mell as Mariette brought it in — Gruyère cheese, cold meat, fruit, a bottle of wine. At last having satisfied his hunger he smiled and said:
“Now you can bring me some champagne. I feel better.”
“What have they done to you?” asked Toinetta, sitting down facing him.
“Nothing, my Toinetta. But for three days and nights they’ve been hunting me.... All over the place.... Everywhere.... They’ve stuck to me like leeches. Oh, what a time I’ve been through — not a moment’s breathing space — not even the time for a drink out of a brook! When I thought I had put them off the scent, others sprang up from somewhere or other, and it all began over again. There must be ten of them shadowing me, sworn to do me in. Souques and Ordinal must have had them down from Paris.... I don’t know their particular mugs....
“They can’t be far away. I hadn’t an ounce of strength left. I said to myself: See Toinetta for the last time and then.... Well, then let things take their course. I won’t make another step. What is written is written. So you must be sensible since there is nothing else to be done.... Stop kissing my hands like that!... They’re not hands — they’re like nothing at all.... Good Lord how comfortable it is here...
Half an hour had scarcely elapsed though it seemed a second — an eternity — when three loud knocks came at the door. Mariette’s terrified, breathless voice could be heard:
“Madame, madame.... MM. Souques and Ordinal!”
“You see, my dear,” said Toinetta to Titin, “there’s no time to wash your hands.” And then to Mariette: “Did you tell them I was in?”
“I told them you were out. But they said: ‘No, your mistress is not out and we want to speak to her at once.’” Toinetta opened the door slightly.
“Where are they?”
“I left them in the lobby.”
“Show them into the study and tell them I am dressing but will be with them in ten minutes. Shut the study door, and don’t look so scared.”
She turned round. Titin seated with folded arms was watching her transfixed.
“Well, what are you doing?” she asked, astonished to see that he had not stirred.
“Nothing.... I was looking at you.... I have only another ten minutes to look at you.... So you will understand I am making the most of my opportunity.”
“You are right,” she said. “Afterwards, time will show.... My love, I know the murderer. Yes, the man you were looking for — the sham Hardigras. I know him.” Then, she related the scene that had passed between her and Hippothadee some minutes before his arrival.
“Do you understand now? Do you see how simple the whole business is.... I am the sole heiress. Do you follow?”
“Yes,” he returned, suddenly enlightened. “You are right. That explains everything. Ah, the villain!”
“Don’t you see that nothing is lost.”
“As you say, nothing is lost. But we shall want proof.”
�
�I will get it, I promise you. Yes, my Titin, before very long I shall have him. I shall get him to let out his secret. I shall pretend to understand him, to share and to admire his game. He is so conceited. I shall have him, the monster, like the ass that he is.... And I’ll lead him to say things which others will hear. Don’t stir from here. I will tell you what you must do. Let me be for a while. Those two detectives are waiting to see me. They know nothing of the work that I am preparing for them.”
She found Souques and Ordinal in the Prince’s study, waiting patiently for her, with the look that may be seen on the faces of persons who have undertaken to break disagreeable news.
“What is it, gentlemen? I am sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“It is we, madame la Princesse, who must apologize,” said Ordinal, bowing. “Believe me, if we could have avoided disturbing you.... But we have been entrusted with a very sad duty. You must be brave, madame.”
“Good gracious, gentlemen, you frighten me. Speak out.... I have had to go through a great deal of late — I expect the worst.... What has happened?”
“Something has happened — something serious has happened to his Highness.”
“What is it — an accident. Has the Prince been hurt?”
“Madame, we warned his Highness. We sent him word again this evening. We advised him not to go out.”
“Yes, I know that. He even gave me to understand that your fears were groundless. Besides, he seemed perfectly easy in his mind. Well?”
“Well, madame, his Highness made a great mistake not to listen to us. He has been murdered.”
“Murdered!... You say murdered.... Why it can’t be.”
“Why not madame? He was murdered like M. Supia, like Mme. Supia, like....”
“But what you tell me is incredible,” burst out Toinetta. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, if I show more astonishment than grief; but if any one ought not to have been murdered, it was he. How was he murdered?”
“You are probably unaware that his Highness was to dine this evening with the Comtesse d’Azilia.”
“Very likely, but that is of no sort of interest to me.”
“The Prince was in the Comtesse d’Azilia’s ground floor flat in the Malausséna quarter when a servant brought him a letter from some person waiting at the garden gate. The Prince read the letter, made his excuses, went out, brought the man into the garden, and had a long talk with him. They disappeared under the trees. It was quite dark. As the Prince did not return, the Comtesse sent the servants to fetch him. Not many minutes elapsed before they were heard shouting. The mysterious visitor was nowhere to be seen, but they had found the Prince hanging from a tree. He bore the card with the one word: ‘Hardigras.’”
Toinetta stared at one and then the other. She seemed a prey to great excitement in which there was obviously no trace of despair.
“How long ago was the crime committed?”
“Half an hour, madame.”
She seized a hand of each and dragged them after her, though for that matter they offered no resistance. She took them through the flat, flung the door of her room wide open and pointed to Titin, who had not moved.
“He has been here for an hour, and you don’t mean to tell me that he murdered the Prince.”
Souques and Ordinal seemed in no way surprised by this dramatic gesture.
“We knew that,” said Ordinal, quietly.
“How do you mean — you knew that?” asked Toinetta, taken aback.
“We saw Titin enter the flat and we were waiting for him outside. Had we not been waiting for him we should have been prowling round the Comtesse d’Azilia’s flat in order to prevent anything unfortunate happening to the Prince, and perhaps he would have been alive now.”
“Hippothadee dead!” exclaimed Titin, until then ignorant of what had occurred.
“Hanged like Supia,” broke in Toinetta.
Titin threw up his arms in a gesture of despair.
“But who did it.... Who?... Who?” he cried, for the Prince’s death plunged him into a terrible mystery.
“Yes, who did it?” wailed Toinetta bitterly. “Perhaps these gentlemen will tell us — these gentlemen who were waiting below in the street to arrest you.”
“No,” said Ordinal.
“No?”
“No, we simply wanted to discover what gang it was who have been shadowing Titin for three days and would certainly have taken up the trail again when he left here.”
“But was that not your men?” asked Titin.
“We let you slide three days ago.”
“How was that?”
“Because we suddenly obtained evidence that you were not guilty.”
“What!” said Titin utterly flabbergasted. “Do you really mean that?”
“The day after your escape we never left you,” explained Ordinal. “You remember when you came out of Barnabé’s hut seeing in the distance two chamois hunters?... Well next day at dawn we were on the point of arresting you when news of Supia’s murder reached us. You could not have been the murderer since you had never been out of our sight.”
“That was a piece of luck,” said Titin. “But all the same I’ve been condemned to death and, I suppose, must get ready to go with you.”
“No, we don’t want you. We shall discover in the end ‘who did it’ as you say, but you will have to help us. Do you remember the time when you made a proposal to us to join forces?”
“Ah, so you’ve come to that,” said Titin laughing. “Between ourselves you’ve been a long time about it.”
“Your assistance will be useful,” said Ordinal.
“Necessary,” added Souques, until then silent. “Ordinal has made us do quite enough idiotic things as it is.”
“Thank you,” said Ordinal.
“To think that I am laughing instead of crying now,” said Toinetta.
“There’s nothing to laugh at,” said Titin. “What is it you wish me to do, gentlemen?”
“Go back to Barnabé’s hut,” said Ordinal. “Don’t be afraid, we will arrange for you to get there right enough. Once there, you must ask Barnabé to tell Giaousé, Tulip, and Bolacion of your arrival. What’s got to be done is to make them talk. Be on your guard.”
“But they saved my life.”
“Yes, but among the men following your tracks were faces known to them.”
“Villainous faces,” said Titin.
“Yes, we thought we recognized a few roughs from the Gorges du Loup. They all belong to Bolacion’s gang.”
“I can’t make it out.”
“Nor can I,” said Ordinal, “but we will make it out, and we shall get light from that quarter. All the principal trouble comes from the Gorges du Loup. The terror that in a few weeks spread over the district originated in that place. They tried to set the people of Torre and La Fourca by the ears so as to bring about still more mischief, but ill all this disorder, behind all these nightly attacks, there is some definite plan. In the eyes of certain people it is the work of some international criminal gang, but quite possibly the plan is a very ordinary one.”
“Oh, it’s a scheme for inheriting certain property,” said Toinetta.
“Arising out of certain remarks made in our presence by Prince Hippothadee,” confessed Ordinal quietly.
“Did it not occur to you that the Prince himself might be implicated...?” asked Toinetta.
“No, madame, for in that case the Prince would have kept silent. He would not have entrusted us with the task of finding the direct heiress to M. Supia’s property — Mme. Cioasa who disappeared.”
“Then if I understand you aright, these wretched people to whom you allude, are acting in Mme. Cioasa’s interests?” said Toinetta.
“Certainly, madame, that is the most logical supposition we can entertain.... Yes, they are acting for Mme. Cioasa... or for her husband.”
“But Mme. Cioasa was not married.”
“I don’t know if you were acquainted with Mme. Cioasa’s history. In he
r younger days she had had a love affair with a certain Michel Pincalvin — Micheu, as he was called round about here. Micheu had no position, and Supia was against the marriage. Micheu left Grasse and did not return. Well, we now know where Mme. Cioasa is — in a small village in the heart of the Jura mountains. It is to this place that she made off in order to spend her honeymoon with her old lover whom she married exactly a fortnight before Mme. Supia was murdered.”
“Well, upon my soul, it’s amazing,” exclaimed Titin. “But that tells us nothing. At that time M. and Mme. Supia were alive. There was no question of Mme. Cioasa inheriting their property.”
“That’s why we are entitled to express surprise that a practical old man like Micheu should marry Mme. Cioasa, who had nothing and no expectation of receiving anything.”
“I don’t agree with you,” said Toinetta. “Micheu’s calculation was not so far out as all that. At that time M. Supia’s daughter was dead. He might tell himself that Mme. Cioasa had a prospect of succeeding to the property one day.”
“Mme. Supia was much younger than Mme. Cioasa,” observed Ordinal with a grim smile.
“So you believe that Micheu... or someone pointed out the facts to Micheu....”
“I think everything is possible in an affair of this sort. Moreover, with Titin’s assistance, we shall be able to lay before you certain facts in a few days.”
“In any case, I can’t yet see where Giaousé and Tulip come in.”
“Do you know how we were led to discover Mme. Cioasa’s whereabouts?”
“Well, no.”
“Through Giaousé and Tulip being in daily correspondence with her.”
“You don’t say so,” exclaimed Titin and Toinetta in unison.
“We are going to make a little investigation in the neighborhood of the newly married couple. Meantime you will have an opportunity of seeing the men in question. Stay in Barnabé’s hut until we come to fetch you. We shall be away at most four days. Your chamois hunter won’t leave you. And it won’t be the police who will trouble you. Within a couple of hours a closed car will come here for you. Two men will be inside. Do exactly as they tell you. You, madame, will remain here. You have duties to fulfill as a result of the disaster that has befallen you. Good-bye for the present, Titin.”
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 432