In the valley, Leo Saint-Clair easily picked up the trail left by the cavalcade formed by Baron Glô von Warteck’s troop as it drew away from Schwarzrock. The troop had left the circus by the northernmost pass. Having established that, they returned to the roadster guarded by Louis Nortmund and his men. The latter left by motor-cycle, while Louis, Saint-Clair, Corsat, Pilou and Wolf were soon on the road descending from the pass into the Black Forest.
They knew all that they needed to know before the day was over. Glô von Warteck, transformed into a citizen of the United States, had passed his troop off as a film company, to which the noble proprietor of Schwarzrock had given permission to “shoot” in and around the castle. At Freiburg-in-Breisgau, after having sold his horses, which would henceforth be of no use, the “director” had embarked the entire company, with all its baggage, on a special express train, hired two days earlier by one of his administrators, who had been sent to Freiburg for that purpose.
The train must have cost a great deal, but everyone knew that American movie directors were undeterred by any expense. The newspapers reported, with astonishment, that the train had been given free passage along the most direct lines all the way to Danzig, via Berlin, and that it had gone at top speed, only stopping to take on coal and water. The papers added, with less astonishment, that a large submarine of a new design, kitted out for “underwater filming and other purposes,” belonging to the Cinematographic Consortium in question, was waiting for the company in Danzig harbor.
“It’s obvious,” the Nyctalope concluded, “that the Wartecks had two submarines: the one that I captured in the Bermudas and another, hidden in some hole on the dreary and deserted Pomeranian coast. Lucifer and his Teledynamo are now at sea, heading for the North Pole.”
“Lucifer will probably equip himself with sleds and dogs somewhere in Norway,” Louis Nortmund added.
“If he doesn’t already have them in his submarine,” the Nyctalope said, “and if he can’t get hold of an aeroplane to ferry him from the northernmost point accessible to the submarine to the Pole.”
And that, so far as speech was concerned, was the entire inquest that took place at Freiburg-in-Breisgau. The Nyctalope needed to think. He was worried about what had become of Irène. He was haunted by the image of Minna being tortured, crying ‘Raymond! Raymond!’
On their arrival at Freiburg he had immediately sent a telegram to Professor Lourmel asking him to hasten to the Nortmunds’ home.
“Return to Colmar,” he said.
Night had fallen during the investigation. They ate in the buffet at Freiburg Station and climbed back into the roadster. Saint-Clair and his three auxiliaries were in dire need of sleep. They slept in the car while Louis Nortmund drove, with the headlights full on, from Freiburg to Colmar–and at The Willows, Saint-Clair granted himself a few hours’ rest.
He still knew nothing about the flight of Laurence and Grisyl.
The two heroines, having arrived at the castle two hours after Saint-Clair and his companions had left, had talked to the shepherd, whom they had met by chance; by this means, they had learned enough to deduce that Schwarzrock was now deserted and that they had no better option but to return to Colmar, to which the Nyctalope would certainly return in order to organize the supreme offensive against Lucifer on a new basis.
Laure and Grisyl therefore returned to The Willows before Saint-Clair, who had been held up in Freiburg. Charles and Blanche promised to keep their heroic excursion secret.
On the other hand, Lourmel arrived that afternoon from Strasbourg, where he had landed in an aircraft that had come from Paris. He was carrying a radiotelegram from Raymond, sent from Georgetown in British Guiana,1 dated the May 27, which was deciphered thus: Have visited the charming Lesser Antilles. All well. Irène and Henri tranquil and cheerful. Nothing new.
“But the torture and death of Minna occurred on May 24,” Saint-Clair said. He recounted the story to Lourmel, Blanche and Charles Nortmund.
“Frightful! Atrocious!” cried the Alsatians.
“Yes,” said Lourmel, “but it may only have been an experiment. This is what I think: while Irène, out there in the Antilles, was sleeping naturally, either at night or during the daytime siesta, Lucifer might have had enough power to draw Irène’s perispirit to him and replace it with Minna’s perispirit...”
“A disincarnation and partial reincarnation?” said Saint-Clair.
“Yes. In any case, there’s no time to lose, It’s May 29. We have 11 more days–and it’s a long way to the North Pole.”
“Lucifer will certainly be at the Pole before June 10,” said the Nyctalope. “He must have powerful and rapid means at his disposal. We already know that his submarine, if it’s like the Uberalles–note that Grisyl did not know of its existence and that the red-haired man made no mention of it–can travel at nearly 200 kilometers per hour. Now, from Danzig to Spitzbergen, by sea, is about 3,300 kilometers. Lucifer might already have reached Spitzbergen. You may assume that he has other means of crossing the polar ice–which is more-or-less compact at this time of year–than dog-sleds and kayaks. From the Spitzbergen land-mass to the Pole as the crow flies is only 1,000 or 1,200 kilometers. That’s only six hours in an aeroplane–and why should Lucifer not have the disassembled pieces of an aeroplane, or even two, aboard his submarine?”
After a pause, Lourmel said: “The magnetic conditions at the North Pole are doubtless such as to give the Teledynamo unlimited power, although I don’t know how. In order for us to know and understand that, it would be necessary, first of all, for science to deduce certain consequences from the important observations and discoveries made in those regions by explorers, and then to know exactly what the Teledynamo is and how the machine works. Thus far, the Pole has only been reached once, by Peary 2–and as for the Teledynamo, Hunter told us very little and Grisyl knows nothing about it.”
“You might interrogate Kroon,” Charles Nortmund suggested.
Kroon–the man whom Saint-Clair and Corsat had surprised and captured in the little red house on the night of May 11–had been imprisoned in the cellars of The Willows since that night.
“Kroon’s only a lowly subordinate of little intelligence, who made a good jailer and executioner–but we might as well try.”
Saint-Clair, Lourmel and the Nortmunds went down into the cellars. In one that was quite comfortably fitted out, illuminated by an electric light–for there was no access of daylight–the man was in the process of eating a meal, guarded by a gamekeeper with a Browning in his fist. Saint-Clair offered him his life, his freedom on June 15 and 100,000 francs if he would reveal everything that he knew about the Lord Baron of Schwarzrock, the Teledynamo, and so on.
Kroon did not hide his disappointment at being unable to win his freedom and the fortune; save for the red house and the odious details of the Lord Baron’s brief sojourns there, the prisoner knew nothing. He expressed his regret in such terms, and with such an expression on his face, that his sincerity was obvious. They left him to finish his copious meal and went back up to the Nortmunds’ study to continue their examination of the situation and to formulate a precise plan of action.
Their thoughts were preoccupied with the multiple enigmas presented by Lucifer’s unexpected departure, as well as by the problems that could only be solved at the Pole. The enigmas were terrible, the problems formidable; on their explanation and solution depended not only the lives and happiness of the people gathered there, and their associates, but millions of others. The victory of Glô von Warteck would indeed be the victory of the true Lucifer, the Spirit of Darkness–the victory of Evil over Good, the death of Liberty, the enslavement of the vast majority of men under the thumb of an invisible tyranny, amid the bloody chaos of the most savage passions granted limitless unbridled satiation.
They examined, considered and discussed the situation until dinner. At table, with Blanche, Laurence and Grisyl, they made every effort to think of other things, but it was impossible; the conversat
ion was slight and the dinner was cut short. When Saint-Clair and Lourmel shut themselves up in the study with the Nortmunds again, Corsat and Pilou were summoned as consultants–for which they had the requisite qualities–and so that the Nyctalope would not have to repeat his explanation of their roles in the final offensive.
At 8 p.m. everyone went to bed–minds need proper rest even more than bodies.
The next day was May 30. “Ten more days!” the Nyctalope said, coldly, on awakening. He had been repeating those fateful words all night in is sleep.
He had ten days to get to Paris, to organize a reasonably well-equipped expedition, to reach the vicinity of the North Pole, to find, attack and defeat Lucifer!
“Madness! You’ll never be able to do it!” said the Sancho Panza that lurks within every man to Don Quixote Saint-Clair.
“Why not? Explain!” retorted Don Quixote Saint-Clair.
Ah! Sancho Panza had little difficulty in complacently exposing the difficulties, the obstacles, the danger and the sheer impossibilities resulting from the conjunction of three enemies: the short time, the long distance and the mysterious darkness enshrouding Lucifer’s means and actions. But Saint-Clair the Nyctalope replied again, vibrant with the will to win: “My eyes will dissipate the darkness and speed will take care of the brevity of time and the extent of space.” And Don Quixote spoke so loudly and so emphatically that Sancho Panza, by virtue of his cowardice, became even more fearful of his master than of the unknown, and raised no further objection.
The roadster and the limousine left that morning for Paris, bearing the men and women they had brought to The Willows four days earlier, plus Professor Lourmel. Alerted by telegram, Alexandre Prillant was waiting for the Nyctalope in the house in the Rue Nansouty. He was not alone: General Benoît, Captain Girard and a third military aviator, Lieutenant Romski were also waiting for the Nyctalope. Before Saint-Clair, though, other persons arrived in a large touring car, which had picked them up at the Gare Saint-Lazare from a special train from Le Havre; these were Jacques Saincer, the Grottenmeister Rupert VI, Grisyl’s father, mother and brothers, and four police inspectors who had been sent to fetch them by Monsieur Prillant.
Everyone was judiciously distributed within Saint-Clair’s house and the adjoining lodge. Choiffour, Sidonie and Rosine had received orders the day before; the number of beds had been tripled, extra rooms adapted as bedrooms and the kitchens filled with provisions. The Wartecks and the policemen would probably remain there until–well, it would have been necessary to know a great deal about the future to be able to specify the day in the month of June until which the Wartecks would be forced to remain the guests of Leo Saint-Clair the Nyctalope!
On that same evening of May 30, at 10 p.m., four aeroplanes took off from the military airfield at Le Bourget; they were the four aircraft of the RC series.
II. To The North Pole
The Norwegian Solund Islands, at 61 degrees north latitude, are the westernmost point of Scandinavia. To get there, a ship departing from Le Havre needs no more time, traveling at an equal speed, than a ship departing from Danzig; the former, in fact, may travel in a near-straight line, while the latter–whose point of departure seems much closer on the map–must first negotiate the long north-eastern promontory of Pomerania, then go west as far as Bornholm Island, follow the long corridor of the Sund, go north through the Kattegat and then go west again to get around the southern tip of Norway, a crossing not without long and numerous turnings.
The Nyctalope and Lieutenant Saincer calculated correctly, therefore, in estimating that the Uberalles, leaving Le Havre five days after the probable departure from Danzig of Lucifer’s submarine, would arrive in the waters of the Solund Isles five days after that submarine had passed through them.
From the Solund Isles to Spitzbergen, it was only necessary to set a straight course. In estimating that the Uberalles would not take longer to follow that course than its sister ship, the Nyctalope and Saincer had only to rely on information provided by Rupert VI, put to sleep by Lourmel, to the effect that the submarine at Lucifer’s disposal was, in terms of power, tonnage and armaments, an exact duplicate of the Uberalles.
“By the way,” Saincer had said, “With what name should we replace the German word Uberalles?”
“None!” replied the Nyctalope, excitedly. “Above all is our watchword. Let us, therefore, give that name to the submarine we have captured and which must be one of our means of victory.” 3
The four aeroplanes landed at Le Havre. Crews of mechanics and motorized trucks were waiting for them. Two of the aircraft, the RC1 and the RC2, were dismantled piece by piece, transported and loaded on to the Uberalles in a matter of hours, part of the hull having been opened up so that a cargo with twice the weight of the two aircraft might be stored in large bunkers.
The eight pilots and mechanics of the RC1 and RC2 embarked with Saincer, then Professor Lourmel, with Rupert VI–who might well prove useful–and Laurence and Grisyl, who had easily obtained permission to take part in the expedition. As for the RC 3 and the RC4, they took off again at the same time as the Uberalles left Le Havre. The former carried Lieutenant Romski, his co-pilot Sergeant Berge, the mechanic, Corporal Dopp, and Wolf; the latter carried Saint-Clair, Captain Girard, Corsat and Pilou. They flew 1,300 kilometers from Le Havre to Christiana, then 1,500 kilometers from Christiana to Vardo.
Carried by solid wings and propelled by powerful motors, the two aircraft completed the whole of this enormous journey in 20 hours. They touched down at Vardo, at the north-eastern extremity of Norway, at 9 a.m. on June 1–but the eight aviators were exhausted. At Vardo, they entrusted the craft to a few local inhabitants, who looked after them with as much scrupulousness as enthusiasm, and after eating a substantial hot meal, they slept until 7 a.m. the following morning, June 2. Then they took to the air again. They covered another 1,200 kilometers above the glacial Arctic Ocean, replete with icebergs, ice-fields and partly-broken ice-packs. At 1 p.m. they arrived at the English station on Cape Flora, in the south-west of Franz Josef Land, on the 80th parallel. The Nyctalope and his companions were now in the regions of the classic American polar expeditions.
Franz Josef Land, whose extent is not yet fully determined, extends to either side of the 60th degree of eastern longitude, between the 80th and 85th parallels. It was the object of a particular study made in 1895-96 by Fritjof Nansen. The famous explorer and one of his companions from the Fram, Lieutenant Hjalmar Johansen, heroically spent the winter in the extreme conditions of that lost land in the polar sea. In 1894, an English expedition to Franz Josef Land commanded by Jackson had built a wooden hut in the Russian style on the basaltic rocks of Cape Flora, around which they had established dog kennels and storehouses.4 The principal members of the English expedition, in addition to Captain Jackson, were the second officer, Mr. Armitage, the photographer Mr. Child, Doctor Koetlitz, Mr. Fisher, the botanist Mr. Burgess and Mr. Blomqvist. They were the people who welcomed Nansen and Johansen on June 17, 1896. After that, the personnel of the expedition had to be renewed several times over, but the station was maintained, under its original name of Elmwood. On June 2, 1921, at 1 p.m., the RC3 and the RC4 touched down on a snowfield 200 meters from the hut.
As the first man who came out of the buildings ran towards them, the Nyctalope asked, in English: “Do I have the honor of speaking to Sir Patrick Swires?”
“Yes sir!”
Saint-Clair continued, in French: “Monsieur, would you care to acquaint yourself with the contents of this letter from His Excellency the British Ambassador to the French Republic?”
“With the greatest of pleasure, sir,” replied Sir Patrick Swires, bowing.
The temperature was only three or four degrees below zero–a veritable summer’s day in those latitudes! The Nyctalope had taken off his gloves, unbuttoned his fur-lined coat and taken a sturdy envelope out of an interior pocket. The commander of Elmwood station took the envelope, slit one side and took out a piece of paper,
which he unfolded slowly and read gravely.
Afterwards, extending his right hand enthusiastically and looking at Saint-Clair with an expression of joyful and cordial admiration, the Englishman said: “I am happy, sir, to make the acquaintance of the illustrious Nyctalope. There is no need for orders from my government; your name alone is sufficient to have the entire mission placed at your service. Command, sir, and we shall obey.”
“Thank you very much, Monsieur,” Saint-Clair replied, with a smile, “but it’s not as simple as that. I am here more to consult than command–but we can do that after lunch, if you like.”
“I do,” said Swires, also smiling.
“It’s often windy here, isn’t it?” Saint-Clair asked.
“Sometimes–but not today, of course.”
“It’s unnecessary, then–at least for the moment–to tie down our aircraft?”
“Unnecessary.”
“Permit me, then, Monsieur, to introduce my companions.”
“And me mine.”
The introductions were made with the utmost correctness. The English mission had nine principal members, all of whom were there. When the protocols were complete, they went into the principal hut, where the table-leaves were immediately extended and eight extra places set.
During lunch, the conversation was restricted to voyages of exploration and wintry conditions. Afterwards, though, everyone formed a kind of council, and Leo Saint-Clair was the first to address it.
III. Lucifer and His Mother
At Danzig on May 26, while his company was embarking on the submarine Kaiser-Gott–temporarily masquerading as the Roosevelt, a submarine belonging to the American Cinematographic Consortium–Baron Glô von Warteck, who was posing as Frederick Alan Schön, producer/director of the aforementioned Consortium, went to No. 183 Schopenhauerstrasse.
No. 183 was a small town house separated from the pavement by a garden and a tall gate reinforced with sheet metal from its base to the tips of its lance-heads.
The Nyctalope vs Lucifer 3: The Triumph of the Nyctalope Page 3