Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

There she was, as beautiful as ever, coming down the stairway. Her first glance told her I was in the clutches of a new worry.

  “What is it now, darling?” she smiled.

  I offered her the paper as she seated herself for luncheon. She read it and the smile disappeared.

  “Oh, darling, that’s too much for me. What do you think?”

  “I can’t understand it at all. Two Mr. Flows — yes; I know there are two and therefore that two of them could work the same night at the same hour. But three Mr. Flows! Who might the third one be, do you know, Helena?”

  She arose; her expression was fixed and hard. At last she said, slowly:

  “No, I don’t know who he is, nor why he didn’t take anything. But that’s no reason why we shouldn’t eat our lunch, darling.”

  We sat down at the table; she had her usual good appetite. I was not hungry — for a very good reason. She reproached me, saying:

  “You must eat, Rudy, to be ready for anything that may happen. One never knows what may happen.”

  That was a fine way to encourage me! I knew only too well that something terrible might happen at any moment. Suppose I fled? Found Aimée Parmin? She would think of a way out for me. But no, her husband was watching her every move. There was nothing to do but wait. Nice doings to get mixed up with! It was the fault of that woman. I hated her! She had tricked me again! Why had she brought me here? Why hadn’t we stayed in Paris; or gone South? Ah, yes, she needed the ocean so she could love me better! And I believed her!

  Mary brought in the coffee and the liqueur. That was what I needed. But the more I drank the more my fury grew. It would be better to leave. I would kill her! I threw my napkin down on the table and left the room. I was going away. She let me go without saying a word. Probably she was too busy planning her escape to be angry. She had other things to think about than a nervous young man. Prison was staring me in the face — her, too. To be Lady Sherfield at Deauville and such places was very nice for a few months, or a few weeks. And then, all of a sudden, because a detective found a clue, or because an accomplice had squealed, Lady Douglas Sherfield became game for the gallows — or a woman who would wear out her beautiful hands in prison at hard labour!

  Perhaps not. She would use every resource to get out of her desperate plight. But I would be convicted without a chance of escape.

  I turned back. I was going to demand definite answers. She would have to answer me, tell me why she lured me here, and why, the other night at Lion-by-the-Sea, she was suddenly seized with a desire to jump the hedge in the garden. Tell me where Durin was, for she knew. Tell me a hundred things of which I was ignorant.

  I quickened my steps and reached the villa. No light.

  That was curious. Had she hidden? It was not seven o’clock. I went in. No one. She must be in her bedroom, upset by my attitude, Mary waiting on her. I turned on the light and leaped upstairs.

  I called, “Helena, Helena!” No answer. I opened the door. The room was empty. The bed was made up, the whole place-in order. Helena had left with the faithful Mary.

  No, she would come back. She had gone out only to get some fresh air. I would wait for her. Or should I go to meet her on the beach? Take the car, perhaps?

  The garage was empty, too. My car was not there. Baffled, I looked around. Suddenly a voice behind me asked: “Will you dine here to-night, sir, or will you go to Havre to join Madame?”

  It was the woman who helped in the kitchen. She was trying to look as though she really didn’t know anything about the situation, even though she went on in one breath:

  “Madame received a telegram and left immediately. She told me to tell you, sir, to join her at Havre by train, and that you would find her address at the garage there.’”

  “Oh yes, I know,” I replied, pretending to understand.

  What was the message that made her leave so hurriedly?’

  And what garage? But if only I could find Helena as easily as I could the garage!

  Helena was nowhere in Havre. I found my car in the garage there. She hadn’t stolen it. That was kind of her. But where was she?

  I must be careful not to excite curiosity by my questions.

  “Didn’t Madame tell you,” I asked nonchalantly, “whether I was to go to the hotel for her or to the home of the friends where we are dining?”

  “No, she didn’t say. She -didn’t say anything in particular.”

  It was plain she had gone and left me.

  That was terrible. I had wanted very much to leave her, but I hadn’t wanted her to leave me. That wasn’t in the cards.

  I spent the night at an hotel and, waking with the dawn, tried to look at the situation coldly. What was I to do?

  First go to Luc-by-the-Sea.

  I paid my bill, got the car and started for Luc-by-the-Sea.

  What was that little piece of paper sticking out of the pocket where I kept the road-maps? God, but I was stupid! The maid had told me I’d find Helena’s address in the garage. She’d left it in the car. I unfolded it; it bore three words: “Rudy, have faith.” Ah, Rudy had no faith except in himself. She was making fun of me again. Good. “Who laughs last...”

  I tore through several small towns like a wild man. Peasant women shook their fists at me for having run over their chickens. I wouldn’t have advised a policeman to try to halt me. I was Mr. Flow now. Mr. Flow. I’d show them — I didn’t know what, but I’d show them!

  Here I was at Luc. I must be quiet, smiling, look as though nothing had happened, and get right on to Paris. As I drove I had had time to review my life and all those futile adventures. My happiest days, as I thought now, were passed in the “villa” — where none of us had any money and we were at peace with the world. I’d like to see the little bungalow again; while I was so near now I decided to drive there. It was only a stone’s throw to Lion.

  I left the car; leaning against the iron gateway, I looked with deep feeling at the shack where I had spent such a satisfying vacation. Suddenly a teasing voice came over my shoulder.

  “Good morning, Mr. Antonin!”

  I turned. It was Natalie.

  She took my hand and asked what happy chance had led me there.

  “I was passing, and I couldn’t resist a desire to see the cosy little spot. You know, Natalie, that...”

  “I know. Well, since you’re here, come on.”

  She took a key from her pocket, opened the gate, and we passed through, on into the little cabin.

  Everything was exactly as I remembered it — the two white wood tables, with Natalie’s typewriter on one, Clotilde’s books on the other. I was stirred and saddened. Natalie sat down in one of the wicker chairs and motioned to me to take the other, facing her.

  Then she asked my destination.

  “I’m motoring through to Paris.”

  “I’m going to Paris to-morrow. Clotilde is in Scotland with Sir Philip, and I don’t enjoy staying alone in the château.”

  “Going to Paris to-morrow?”

  “Yes; and I shall be your neighbour for several days. I want to go back to our own little nest. I’ve had some minor repairs made — and the locksmith assures me...” She wanted me to hear this, so she stopped... and then added: “I keep hearing terrible stories of burglars, and I am convinced that if honest people would lock their houses properly there wouldn’t be so many robbers. So I’ve taken precautions, and I think my little retreat is now burglar-proof.”

  “Don’t be too sure. Detective Petit-Jean said the same thing. And Mr. Flow..

  She smiled. “Mr. Flow.. if he should come he wouldn’t need to break the lock; he’d have only to knock and I’d open the door. I’m sure we’d be the best of friends. I think a great deal about him. I’m told he’s very charming, and never cruel.”

  “And you wouldn’t be cruel either, would you, wise Natalie?”

  “Wise Natalie is not cruel by nature. She would ask for certain guarantees from Mr. Flow, naturally, but she is sure he would grant them.”
>
  Her voice, although not unfriendly, had a certain harsh ring, and I was wondering what the conversation was leading up to. Of all people I had to fear, wasn’t this stenographer the most dangerous? True, her face was charming, but the mouth and forehead were a little too masterful. If I didn’t dominate her I’d never have a moment’s peace. She loved me, true. But as Carmen did: “If you love me, take heed!”

  “Natalie, since we are both going to Paris, why not go together? My car is here, let me drive you.”

  She shook her head.

  “Come on, do, Natalie. We’re both going to the rue des Bernardins. Come, we’ll dine together in Paris, and afterwards I’ll drop you at your safely-locked door!”

  “Be careful, Antonin. We take such little jaunts only with those we love.”

  I burned my bridges behind me.

  “A wonderful idea! Let’s fall in love, Natalie.”

  “You ought not to joke about love.”

  “I’m not joking; you are alone and free. I am alone..

  “... and not free.”

  That unequivocal remark might have caught me off my guard. If I were Mr. Antonin Rose I would assuredly find nothing to say. But to-day I was Mr. Flow, and Mr. Flow had just remembered that the necklace was hidden in Natalie’s fireplace. Did she know? It was only an imitation, but I needed it to finish playing out my game. I had to get that necklace. There was no lock so unyielding that it wouldn’t give way under Durin’s little tools. Even so, I was alarmed. Natalie must be in my power.

  So my answer was:

  “I was not free, but now I am.”

  “She has left?” As Natalie asked this, hate burned in her eyes.

  “Yes, she has gone — but I don’t know where.”

  “I will tell you.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, I.... But not to-day. You might not go back to Paris, and it is more than time you did. If you could also become an honest man again...”

  She stopped, hoping I would answer, but I didn’t.

  “Ah, how I hated that woman,” she went on, “and how I still hate her! And how I scorned you for not breaking away from that loathsome creature! Do you know her as I do? Would you like me to tell you all that Victor told me?”

  I pricked up my ears. I must learn all about Victor and what he was up to.

  “Nonsense. Natalie, probably you don’t know that Victor is a crook, formerly an accomplice of Mr. Flow. I wouldn’t take his word as Gospel truth if I were you.” —

  “You think so? Well, I don’t know what your friends have done to him, but he has sworn to unmask them, and if anyone is qualified to show them up, he is. You were very adroit the other day, Antonin, at Deauville. You did succeed in alarming Sir Philip. Now he doesn’t know what to think, especially as Clotilde has done everything in her power to add to his suspicions. Victor has gone; but before he left he and I had a little talk. Since Sir Philip no longer believed him, he said, there was only one thing for him to do; to prove absolutely that Durin and Mr. Flow are one and the same person, and that that person is for the time being known as Douglas Sherfield. I’m going to make it my business to get that proof.”

  “And then he left, went away from here, just as they do in melodramas?”

  “Yes, he’s gone. I know where, but I’ll not tell you. That would be giving you Helena’s address. You would go to her and again fall not only into her hands, but into Durin’s. And that’s just what I don’t want.”

  Her tone showed she meant what she said.

  “You are wondering,” she continued, “why I am concerning myself with your sordid affairs. Because Clotilde loves you, and I love you, too. Just now you were on the verge of making love to me; I invited it.

  That was because I wanted to find out what kind of man we love, she and I. But I changed my mind; I wasn’t playing the game fair. And yet, so changeable are human hearts that there are moments when I would give the world to hear you lie, if in lying you say you loved me. Tell me, could any woman be more frank than I am?”

  Now it was my turn to be troubled. This Natalie, whom up to now I had not taken seriously, was ending by putting me on the defensive. In the sheer simplicity of her confession there was a grandeur which impressed me.

  “If Clotilde did not love you, everything would be simple. I would make your Helena and her Durin my business. I know enough about them not to fear them. You are surprised, no doubt, that a girl who just a few weeks ago was typing bad plays, who was a nobody, who still is nothing but the sister-in-law of a rich maniac, should have the audacity to measure swords with Mr. Flow. Well, I have that audacity. Unfortunately, Clotilde loves you, so I cannot do what I would like to without involving her.”

  As I listened to this woman speaking, I was filled with admiration and fear. I did not grasp all she said. What plan of action had she in mind? Evidently she knew everything, or nearly everything. Victor had told her of the mix-up that neither the French nor the English police had been able to untangle. She knew the part I played in it, and still she loved me. Perhaps even my prestige as a bold marauder had more to do with it than she would have dared admit.

  “But there is something I shall take upon myself to ensure from now on; that is Clotilde’s happiness. I have decided that you shall marry Clotilde later... when Sir Philip is dead, which cannot be long now. No doubt Durin will aid in hastening his departure. But you must not be mixed up in that business; I must look carefully to that. Your Helena has gone. You ought to understand by now that she’s making a fool of you.”

  “I realized that a long time ago, Natalie, but she’ll not do it much longer, I swear.”

  “You swear it, but you don’t know anything about it. You’ve said it a hundred times before, I’m sure. She’s the kind of woman who knows how to manage men; it takes a woman to fight another woman. You’ll never be able to free yourself from Helena; but I will deliver you from her. With her out of the way, and Sir Philip gone, you will marry Clotilde. It’s not going to be very pleasant for me, but I’ll resign myself to it; or rather I have been resigned for some time now. My reward will be in Clotilde’s happiness... and in yours. At the rate you’re going now, you’ll soon land in the penitentiary if I don’t interfere.”

  Well, now, I liked to have someone love me and be interested in me. But not quite as interested as that. Natalie had outlined my life for me. The moment Sir Philip was dead, I was to woo Clotilde and marry her. And that under the stern eye of our sister Natalie. We would live a perfectly humdrum, conventional life together. This was the existence she planned for me. She exasperated me.

  She seemed to see these thoughts reflected by my face, for she said:

  “You will agree with me, too, Antonin, after you have thought about it. We hate to listen to reason, and this is reason.... And now.... A little while ago I refused to go back to Paris with you. Now I want to very much. Do you still want me?”

  I assured her I would be delighted, and her face lighted up with pleasure.

  She went back to the château, packed her bags and we were off. She sat beside me and I felt her beautiful eyes upon me. I drove at a good speed.

  “You’re not afraid, Natalie?”

  “Afraid? Of what? The worst that can happen is death.... And at times that would be sweet....”

  She irritated me. If I were merely Mr. Antonin Rose, I’d tell her to go to the devil. But I was Mr. Flow; that is to say, Mr. Flow could not give way to his impulses, but must calculate everything he did. The necklace was in Natalie’s fireplace. I must hold on to the opportunity to get it back. I could not afford to have any falling out with my young neighbour.

  XV.

  THE NECKLACE IN THE FIREPLACE

  BACK IN PARIS again!

  “Go get ready, Natalie,” I said, “and we’ll go wherever you say for dinner.”

  “Fine,” she answered gaily. “I’ll be with you in half an hour.”

  I knocked at her door half an hour later. She wasn’t quite ready; she made me wai
t at the threshold, and as I waited I had time to examine the new locks.

  Beautiful! — Better ones couldn’t be found. Well placed, too. — There are three of them, sufficiently separated so that neither above nor below could a tool be inserted to pry the door itself away from the frame. Mr. Flow would have to find another way. The moment the door opened I looked carefully. Natalie, dressed to go out, smiled.

  “Not bad, is it? And you haven’t seen it all yet.”

  She showed me how the wood-work on the inside was reinforced with iron, and there were also horizontal bars which would resist the ordinary jemmy. It would take several hours of hard work to open that door. I congratulated Natalie on being absolutely proof against house-breakers.

  “Just as though you were in a safe deposit vault, my dear Natalie.”

  From the entrance I looked around the room — freshly painted and furnished with taste, but no ornaments — no books, no photographs. Nothing to tempt one to burglary.

  “Don’t make fun of me,” she laughed. “Valuables are sometimes found in attics.”

  Did she know? Could she have discovered the hiding-place in the fireplace? And the necklace?

  “Valuables in an attic?” I teased. “You read of fifty thousand francs in a beggar’s mattress. What’s that to either of us now!”

  She gave me a knowing look; I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. If she had really found the necklace, what had she done with it? All my plans might come to nothing if Natalie had the necklace safely hidden elsewhere, for I hadn’t given up the idea of getting the real necklace from Durin.

  But if she had found it and was keeping it here, that was why she had her door so well fortified. No doubt the necklace was here. Had she left it in the fireplace? The only way to find out was to look. Wasn’t! Mr. Flow, not the timid Antonin Rose! So I went to the fireplace, stooped down and took off the fender. Natalie made no move to stop me.

  “You’re looking for the necklace,” she said quietly. It was not a question. “It’s no use; the necklace is no longer there. Let’s go to dinner; I’m awfully hungry, and if you’re still interested we’ll talk it over.”