Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

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by Gaston Leroux


  ‘Do you know my mother, sir?’

  ‘Sir, before presenting myself to the Academy—’

  ‘You are presenting yourself then?’

  ‘I mean that, having the idea that I might present myself, I wanted to be sure it would not interfere with your plans. I tried to find you everywhere. So it happened that I met your mother, who told me that you were in Canada.’

  ‘So I was, I just got back from there... only this morning. I arrived in Havre. I’ve been living in Canada like a savage, and I’ve been absolutely uninformed about the silly doings in connection with Monsieur d’Abbeville’s chair.’

  The couple began to breathe more easily.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ they exclaimed together.

  ‘I lunched with a friend today who told me the sad story of the recent elections. I knew the officers of the Academy had been trying to find me, so I decided to put an end to the whole mystery by going at once to call on Monsieur Hippolyte Patard.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’

  ‘I went to the Academy this afternoon, and when I asked for Monsieur Patard the concierge told me that he had left with several other men. I told him my errand was pressing; then he said that I would certainly find them at 32 his rue Laffitte, at the home of Gaspard Lalouette, who was to be the next occupant of Monsieur d’Abbeville’s chair, and whom these gentlemen and the secretary wanted to congratulate at once. But I seem to have made a mistake about it, since you do not know Monsieur Patard,’ added Eliphas, smiling very lightly.

  ‘Sir, he has just left here!’ said Lalouette. ‘I’ll tell you the truth, now! Yes, I did announce my candidacy for the chair. I was quite sure that a man like you couldn’t be a murderer, that it was all the other people who were crazy.’

  ‘Bravo, Lalouette!’ cried Eliphas. ‘Now you’re talking like a man. If you want your chair, you shall have it. You have only to say the word and it’s yours,’ and he went up to Lalouette and shook his hand.

  ‘Take your seat in the Academy, Monsieur Lalouette, take it and have no fear. As for me, I assure you, I’m only a mere man like all the others... just for a brief moment, I felt superior to the rest of mankind... because I had studied a great deal and gone deeply into things.... My repulse at the hands of the Academy opened my eyes and I decided to punish myself, to humiliate myself. I went into exile... in the depths of Canada. I worked at the heaviest labour, just like the roughest trappers, and now I’ve come back to try to find a market for my merchandise.’

  ‘What are you doing now?’ Lalouette asked. He was deeply stirred by the captivating story of the man whom everybody had been speaking of as the Man of Light. He felt privileged to be able to listen to it.

  ‘Yes, my dear sir, what are you doing now?’ asked Madame Gaspard, pleading with both voice and eyes.

  Quite simply and modestly the Man of Light answered:

  ‘I sell rabbit skins.’

  ‘Rabbit skins?’ exclaimed Lalouette.

  ‘Rabbit skins!’ Madame Lalouette sighed as she said it.

  ‘I am a dealer in rabbit skins,’ reiterated the Man of Light, bowing with dignity.

  He was about to leave, but Lalouette detained him.

  ‘Where are you going now? You can’t leave just this minute. Would you allow us the pleasure of offering you a little glass of something?’

  ‘Thank you very much. No, I never take anything between meals,’ Eliphas answered.

  ‘Still, you mustn’t leave like this,’ and Madame Lalouette began to urge him. ‘After all, there is a great deal we’d like to talk to you about.’

  ‘I think I know enough now,’ he answered quite frankly. ‘As soon as I have seen Monsieur Hippolyte Patard, I’ll take a train for Leipzig to look after my fur business.’

  Madame Lalouette put her hand quietly on the door-knob to hold him back a moment longer.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, her voice shaking a little, ‘but what are you going to say to the Perpetual Secretary?’

  ‘I’m just going to tell him that I never killed anyone in my life,’ answered the Man of Light.

  Lalouette went white.

  ‘You don’t need to,’ he said. ‘He never thought you did. It’s quite unnecessary, I assure you.’

  ‘Still, it’s my duty to reassure him just as I’ve reassured you and Madame Lalouette, and to banish once and for all these stupid suspicions now attached to my name.’

  Lalouette, his face utterly distorted, looked at his wife.

  ‘Ah, my little girl,’ he sighed, ‘it was all only a too beautiful dream’ - she put her arms about his neck; he buried his face on her shoulder and sobbed - ‘a beautiful dream.’

  Eliphas turned inquiringly toward Madame Lalouette.

  ‘Your husband,’ he said, ‘seems to be in great trouble. I confess I can not understand....’

  ‘It means,’ answered Madame Lalouette, between sobs, ‘that when it is known that you are in Paris, that you have come back from Canada, and that you had nothing to do with those deaths in the Academy Monsieur Lalouette will never be elected to the chair.’

  ‘And why not, pray?’

  ‘Oh, they’ll never elect him to that chair,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s a terrible thing to say - but now no one wants it. Hold off, then, my dear Monsieur Eliphas. Wait a little before telling every one that you are innocent. Of course sensible people know it already. But wait just a little longer, until my husband is elected—’

  ‘My dear lady,’ answered Eliphas, ‘don’t take it so hard. The Academy will never be so unjust as to reject your husband - he who was the only one who came to their relief when they were in such dire need.’

  ‘I tell you, they won’t elect him!’

  ‘Yes, they will.’

  ‘No, they won’t.’

  ‘Yes, they will.’

  Madame Lalouette turned to her husband. ‘Gaspard,’ she cried, ‘I believe what Monsieur Eliphas says. Tell him yourself why the Academy won’t elect you if it can possibly find some one else... it’s a secret, Monsieur Eliphas, a terrible secret which we had to confide to the Perpetual Secretary... but it must never go any further. Go on, Gaspard... tell him.’

  Lalouette tore himself from his wife’s bosom. He put his hand over his mouth and very softly whispered something into Monsieur Eliphas’ ear... so gently that nobody but Monsieur Eliphas could hear it.

  At which Monsieur Eliphas de Saint Elmo de Taillebourg de la Nox, the man who never smiled, burst forth into peals of laughter.

  ‘That’s too funny,’ he said.... ‘No, no, my friend, I’ll never say a word about it. You needn’t worry.’

  He shook the hand of each as a pledge of his good faith. He thanked them for their hospitality, and assured them that nothing could make him happier than to see Monsieur Lalouette a member of the Academy. With great dignity he opened the door and went out into the street, at peace with himself and the world.

  Chapter 9. Lalouette Becomes Afraid

  MADAME LALOUETTE HAD not exaggerated in the least when she said her husband would wake up the following morning to find himself a famous man.

  For two whole months no man was more talked about than Monsieur Lalouette.

  His house was never free of newspaper men and his pictures in varied poses appeared in every newspaper and magazine. It must be confessed that Monsieur Lalouette took all this quite as a matter of course, as if it were his due. The courage he seemed to show in the circumstances aroused the public’s admiration - ‘seemed to show,’ for as a matter of fact Madame and Monsieur Lalouette were now in nowise apprehensive of any vengeance on the part of Sire Eliphas. Although his visit frightened them at first beyond all belief, it had ended in assuring them of a peaceful and happy future.

  That future was not long in coming. Monsieur Jules-Louis Gaspard Lalouette was unanimously elected a member of the illustrious Academy. Unchallenged by any rival, the palm of the martyr was his without dispute.

  In the next few weeks not a day passed that Monsieur Hippolyte Patard did not
drop into the shop. He used to come toward evening, and, to avoid being recognized, he would enter by a little side door, and sit in Lalouette’s private room where they would not be disturbed. Here they were engaged in composing Lalouette’s speech of acceptance. It was evident that when Lalouette said he had a good memory he was not boasting; it was excellent. He would know that speech by heart with no chance of error. Madame Lalouette took a hand at it, too. She recited the oratorical work of art to her husband - even in the conjugal privacy of going to bed and getting up. She also taught him how to handle his pages as though he were reading them, and just how to arrange them, one after the other. As a finishing touch she had marked the top of each page with a little red cross to that Lalouette would not hold his speech in front of him - and in front of everybody else - upside down!

  The eve of the famous day — that day when all Paris was in a fever of excitement - arrived. The newspapers had installed their reporters in relays in the vicinity of his shop. After the three successive tragedies there was no doubt whatsoever that Monsieur Lalouette was doomed to an early death. They had to have reports of the great man every five minutes. When he appeared, quite fagged out, and finally retired to get a little rest, it was Madame Lalouette who had to answer all their questions. The poor woman was worn to a frazzle, but radiant, for Monsieur Lalouette was really feeling as ‘fine as silk.’

  ‘As fine as silk, Mr Reporter... say that in your paper. He’s as fine as silk.’

  Lalouette had thought it best to go away from home, for his fame was getting in his way. This was the very time he felt it imperative to be alone so that he could go over his discourse, giving laborious attention to intonation and gesture. He crept out, and succeeded in reaching the house of his wife’s cousin who kept a little shop in the Place de la Bastille. Notwithstanding the distance which separated them, he was able to recite by telephone to Madame Lalouette the most difficult passages of that precious speech, the author of which, we know, was Monsieur Hippolyte Patard.

  It had been arranged that gentleman should join Monsieur Lalouette at about six in the evening at the Place de la Bastille. Everything seemed to be going very well, when as the two colleagues were talking quietly together the following little incident happened.

  ‘My dear friend,’ Patard was saying, ‘you must be very happy. There will never be under the dome of the Academy a solemn meeting of such brilliance. Every member of the Academy will be there - every one.

  Each one wants to show by his presence the especial esteem in which he holds you. Even the great Lonstalot himself has said that he will be there, although he seldom attends these meetings. The great man is very busy; he didn’t even come to Mortimar’s reception, nor d’Aulnay’s, not even Martin Latouche’s.’

  ‘Really!’ said Monsieur Lalouette, who suddenly seemed quite embarrassed. ‘Monsieur Lonstalot will be there?’

  ‘He took the trouble to write me.’

  ‘That was very kind of him, that...’

  ‘What’s the matter with you, my dear Lalouette?... You look as though you are worried.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Lalouette agreed. ‘It’s nothing very serious.... I’ve been somewhat discourteous to the great Lonstalot.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Before I became a candidate I went to see him to ask his idea of the Secret of Toth and of all that nonsense concerning Martin Latouche’s death. He only laughed at that great scholar Latouche and abused him so that I was disgusted. It was then that I decided to become a candidate.’

  ‘I don’t see anything in all that to worry about.’

  ‘Perhaps. But when I became a candidate I had to make the usual round of official calls on all the members of the Academy.’

  ‘Of course, otherwise you would have been guilty of the greatest rudeness.’

  ‘Yes, I know... and the one man to whom I should have shown the deepest gratitude was the great Lonstalot, but I’ve never made my call on him.’

  Patard couldn’t believe his ears. ‘What, never called on the great Lonstalot!’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Monsieur Lalouette, you have broken all our rules... it is an insult to the Academy.’

  ‘But, Monsieur Secretary, nothing was further from my mind.’

  ‘Why then, if I may ask, didn’t you call on him?’

  ‘I’ll tell you... he has two mastiffs, Ajax and Achilles, who scare the wits out of me, and a giant named Tobie, who looks like a gorilla.’

  ‘You?... a brave man like you!’ asked Patard.

  Lalouette hung his head.

  ‘I wish you’d seen their savage jaws and heard their howls - as though in the presence of death — and then the long, piercing shriek of a human being.’

  ‘A human being?’

  ‘Lonstalot thought it might be some hunter along the river... but a cry as of some one being murdered... and imagine that deserted spot... and a house way off by itself.... I’ve never been able to muster up courage enough to go back.’

  Patard had sat down at a table meanwhile, and was consulting a time-table.

  ‘Let’s go now,’ he said.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Out to call on Lonstalot... there’s a train in five minutes... that will somewhat right the wrong... since you will not be a member officially until tomorrow.’

  ‘All right. I don’t mind going if you do. But do you know those dogs?’

  ‘Yes... and the giant, too.’

  ‘Fine... there’s a good little restaurant near the station where we can have our dinner while we’re waiting for the train coming back.’

  ‘That is, in case Lonstalot doesn’t ask us to dine with him.’

  Just as they were leaving for the station the telephone rang.

  ‘That must be Madame Lalouette. I’ll tell her we’re going to dine in the country.’

  He took down the receiver and suddenly turned pale, then green.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Patard, who was standing close to him.

  Lalouette leaned over.

  ‘Don’t hang up, dear.... You’ll have to tell that to Monsieur Patard.’

  Lalouette turned to him.

  ‘My wife has received a letter from Eliphas de la Nox,’ he spluttered, his hand shaking.

  Patard took up the receiver, put it to his ear and went pale as he heard Madame Lalouette’s voice reading the letter:

  My dear Monsieur Lalouette:

  I am pleased to hear of your success and I am sure that an intelligent man like you will in no way be apprehensive when about to make his speech. As you see, I am still in Leipzig; but I have been wondering of late if it is really quite natural that three candidates should die, one right after the other, just as each was about to take M. d’Abbeville’s chair! There must have been a special motive behind these deaths. I take the liberty of calling your particular attention to this point. Just because I am not a murderer, is no reason why there are not other murderers in the world.... However, these remarks need not influence you in any way. Even if there were reasons for the deaths of your three predecessors, that doesn’t mean there would necessarily be any reason for your meeting a similar fate.

  Please give my best regards to Madame Lalouette.

  Sincerely and hopefully yours,

  Eliphas de Saint Elmo de Taillebourg de la Nox.

  On the train the two men sat deep in thought. Certainly the letter was full of uncontrovertible good sense. That phrase— ‘Just because I’m not a murderer is no reason why there are not other murderers in the world’ — that was the phrase as it came over the wire that seemed to have seated itself into each man’s brain.

  Lalouette now began to ask himself if it was really worth all this to have been elected to the Academy.

  Other phrases in the letter rang in their ears: ‘Is it natural that three Academy members should die, one after the other, just as they were on the point of taking Monsieur d’Abbeville’s chair?’

  But above all it was those last words that disturbed L
alouette.

  ‘If there were reasons for the deaths of Mortimar, d’Aulnay and Latouche, there may possibly be none for Gaspard Lalouette’s.’

  His thoughts raced on.

  ‘May possibly be’ — it was that ‘may possibly be’ that upset him.

  He looked at Patard, whose face now bore an expression of great anxiety.

  ‘Listen, Lalouette,’ he said, ‘that letter may be rather serious, but I don’t think we need be alarmed about it.’

  ‘Perhaps, but how can we be sure?’

  ‘I have not been sure of anything since Martin Latouche’s death... I’ve worried enough about him... I don’t propose to worry about you, too.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Lalouette asked, raising himself up to his full height; ‘are you thinking of me as being dead, already?’

  ‘No, not dead, my friend,’ said Patard, slowly, laying his hand consolingly on that of the newly elected member, ‘but I can not help thinking that the other three deaths were perhaps not so natural as—’

  ‘The other three?’ Lalouette shivered.

  ‘Still, the words of this Sire Eliphas make one stop and think... and recall some things I thought myself... but tell me, Monsieur Lalouette, you didn’t know Monsieur, d’Aulnay, or Latouche, did you?’

  ‘I never spoke to one of them in my life... I give you my word, as a gentleman and a member of the French Academy.’

  ‘Splendid,’ said Patard. ‘Then there could be no connection between their fate and yours.’

  ‘You make me feel better, my dear secretary, but do you really think there is any connection between those three deaths?’

  ‘Yes, I do now, since hearing Eliphas’ letter. We’ve all been so under the spell of that wizard that we’ve not looked elsewhere for the secret of that sinister mystery.’

  ‘Perhaps elsewhere there was a real reason. Now that I come to think of it, those three men did not know each other. Understand me well, Monsieur Lalouette — they did not know each other before the first election took place for a successor to Monsieur d’Abbeville... they had never seen each other... never... in spite of the fact that Latouche did not tell me they had been young men together... now then, after the election, they met, they saw each other secretly... first at one house, and then at another... everybody said they met to talk about Eliphas... to defy his threats... what nonsense!... they all must have feared a common danger... otherwise why their secret meetings?’

 

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