THE SACK OF POTATOES
While M. Darzac, with the assistance of Bernier, busied himself, as
Rouletabille advised, with obliterating all signs of the tragedy,
the Lady in Black, who had hastily changed her dress, hurried to her
father’s rooms in order not to run the risk of encountering any of the
other members of the party. Her last word was to counsel us to prudence
and silence. Rouletabille also took leave of us.
It was now about seven o’clock in the morning and things began to stir
in and about the château. We could hear the fishermen singing in their
boats. I threw myself upon my bed, and in a few moments I was sleeping
profoundly, vanquished by the physical weariness which was stronger
than my powers of resistance. When I awakened, I lay for a few moments
on my couch in a pleasant bewilderment, but as the events of the night
dawned on my remembrance, I started up in terror.
“Ah!” I cried out, “A body too many! No, no! It can’t be! It’s
impossible!”
It was this which surged across the dark gulf of my thoughts, above
the abyss of my memory; this impossibility of “a body too many.” And
the horror which I found in my heart at my awakening was not confined
to myself--far from it! All those who had mingled, near or far, in
this strange drama of the Square Tower, shared it; and even though
the horror of the event itself were appeased--the horror of the body
in its last throes of agony thrown into a sack which a man carried
off at night to cast it into who knows what far off and profound and
mysterious tomb where it might gasp out its last breath of life--even
if, I say, this horror should be forgotten and blotted out of the mind,
and effaced from the vision, yet still the impossibility of this “body
too many” grew and increased and rose up before us higher and higher
and more threatening and more dreadful. Certain persons there are--like
Mme. Edith, for example--who deny almost from habit, anything which
they cannot understand--who deny the presentation of the problem which
destiny holds for us (such as we have established in the preceding
chapter) even while every event and every circumstance among those
which had the Fort of Hercules for their theatre rendered proof of the
exactitude of the presentation.
First of all, the attack! How had the attack been made? At what moment?
By what means of approach? What mines, trenches, covered paths,
breaches--in the domains of the mental fortifications--have served the
assailant and delivered the château over into his hands? Yes, under
the existing conditions, where was the attack? The answer is--silence.
And yet, the facts must be brought to light. Rouletabille has said so;
he ought to know. In a siege as mysterious as this, the attack may be
in everything or in nothing. The assailant is as still as the grave
itself and the assault is made without clamor and the enemy approaches
the walls walking in his stocking feet. The _attack_? It is,
perhaps, in the very stillness itself, but again, it may, perhaps, be
in the spoken word. It is in a tone, in a sigh, in a breath. It is
in a gesture, but if perhaps it may be in all which is hidden, it may
be, also, in all that is revealed--in _everything which one sees and
which one does not see_.
Eleven o’clock! Where was Rouletabille? His bed had not been disturbed.
I dressed myself hurriedly and went to look for my friend, whom I found
in the outer court. He took me by the arm and led me into the vast
drawing room of “la Louve.” There, I was surprised to find, although it
was not yet time for luncheon, everybody assembled. M. and Mme. Darzac
were there. It seemed to me that M. Rance’s manner was rather frigid.
When he shook my hand in wishing me good morning, he barely touched
my fingers. As soon as we entered the room Mme. Edith, from the dark
corner where she was reclining carelessly on a sofa, saluted us with
the words:
“Ah, here is M. Rouletabille with his friend, Sainclair. Now we shall
know why we have all been summoned here!”
To this remark, Rouletabille responded by first excusing himself for
having requested us all to gather at so early an hour; but he had, he
went on to say, such a serious and important communication to make
to us that he had not wished to delay it one moment longer than was
absolutely necessary. His tone was so grave that Edith pretended to
shiver and counterfeited an infantile terror. But Rouletabille, without
noticing her, continued: “Before you shiver, Madame, wait until you
know what you have to be afraid of. I have some news for you which is
very far from pleasant.”
We all looked at him, and then at each other! What was he about to say?
I endeavored to read in the faces of M. and Mme. Darzac what they
thought of the matter. Both showed remarkably little evidence of last
night’s horrors! But what was it that Rouletabille had to say to us?
He entreated those who were standing to be seated and then he began to
speak. He addressed himself to Mme. Rance.
“First of all, Madame, permit me to inform you that I have decided to
suppress the ‘guard’ which surrounded the Château of Hercules, like an
inner wall, and which I judged necessary for the protection of M. and
Mme. Darzac and which you kindly allowed me to establish, although it
vexed you, showing the most charming of good humor and accommodating
spirit.”
This direct allusion to the mocking remarks and innuendos of Mme. Edith
at the time when we mounted guard made Mr. Rance and his wife both
smile. But no smile arose to the lips of M. or Mme. Darzac nor myself,
for we had begun to ask ourselves anxiously what the boy was preparing
to say.
“Ah, really, are you going to withdraw the guard from the château,
M. Rouletabille? Well, I am very glad to hear it, although I assure
you that it did not vex me in the least!” exclaimed Mme. Edith with
an affectation of gayety. “On the contrary, it has interested me very
much, because, you know, I am of a very romantic nature, and if I
rejoice at the change, it is because the fact proves to me that M. and
Mme. Darzac are no longer in any danger.”
“This is true, Madame,” replied Rouletabille, “since last night.”
Mme. Darzac could not refrain from a hasty movement which no one save
myself perceived.
“So much the better!” cried Mme. Edith. “May Heaven be praised!
But how is it that my husband and I are the last to hear the news?
Interesting things must have been happening last night! The nocturnal
trip of M. Darzac to Castelar was one of them, without doubt!”
As she spoke, I could see the embarrassment of M. and Mme. Darzac. The
former, after a glance at his wife, started to speak, but Rouletabille
would not permit him to do so.
“Madame, I do not know where M. Darzac went last night, but it is
necessary that you should know one thing; and that is the reason why M.
and Mme. Darzac have ceased to run any danger. Your husband, Madame,
has told you of the frightful tragedy of the Glandier two years ago and
of the villainous part played in it by----”
“Frederic Larsan--yes, monsieur, I know all that.”
“You know also, of course, that the reason why we have placed such a
strong guard here around M. Darzac and his wife was because we had seen
this man again?”
“I do.”
“Well, M. and Mme. Darzac are no longer in danger because this man
cannot appear again ever.”
“What has become of him?”
“He is dead.”
“When did he die?”
“Last night.”
“And how did he die last night?”
“He was killed, madame.”
“And where was he killed?”
“In the Square Tower.”
We all sprang to our feet at this declaration in the greatest
agitation. M. and Mme. Rance seemed completely stupefied by the words
which they had heard and M. and Mme. Darzac and myself were plunged
into the most profound agitation by the fact that Rouletabille had not
hesitated to reveal the secret.
“In the Square Tower?” cried Mme. Edith. “And who, then, has killed
him?”
“M. Robert Darzac,” replied Rouletabille. “And he entreats everyone to
sit down.”
It was astonishing how we seated ourselves with one accord, as though,
at such a moment, we had nothing to do except to obey this youngster.
But almost immediately Mme. Edith arose and seizing M. Darzac by the
hand, she exclaimed with an emphasis which made me decide that I had
judged her wrongly when I called her affected:
“Bravo, Monsieur Robert! All right! You are a gentleman!”
Then she paid some exaggerated compliments--for after all, it was
her nature to exaggerate things--to Mme. Darzac. She swore eternal
friendship for her; she declared that she and her husband were ready,
under all circumstances, to stand by the Darzacs and that the latter
might count upon their zeal and their devotion and that they would
swear whatever one liked before all the judges in the tribunal.
“Gently, dear Madame,” interrupted Rouletabille. “There is no question
of judges and we hope that there may not be. There’s no need of it.
Larsan was a dead man in the eyes of the whole world long before he was
killed last night--he will continue to be dead, that is all! We have
decided that it would be useless to reopen a scandal of which M. and
Mme. Darzac have already been made the innocent victims and we have
counted upon your assistance. The affair has happened in so mysterious
a fashion that even you, if we had not informed you in regard to it,
would never have suspected. But M. and Mme. Darzac are endowed with
sentiments too noble to permit them to forget what they owe to their
hosts. The most simple rules of hospitality ordered them to tell you
that they killed a man in your house last night. How foolish it would
be to lay bare this unfortunate story to some Italian police officer
and subject you to the inconvenience of having your names coupled with
the miserable business, and, it might easily be, to have a search made
of your house and hired servants of the law under your roof! M. and
Mme. Darzac, for your sakes alone, are anxious that you should not run
the risk of being the object of idle gossip, or, perhaps, of having the
police descend upon your home.”
M. Arthur Rance, who up to this time had remained speechless, arose and
said, his face as pallid as though he had seen a ghost:
“Frederic Larsan is dead. Well, so far so good, and no one is more
rejoiced than myself to know it. And if he has received the punishment
due to his crimes from the hand of M. Darzac, no one is more to be
congratulated than M. Darzac. But I consider that it would be wrong
for M. Darzac to make any attempt to conceal an act which is an honor
to himself. It would be better to inform the authorities and without
delay. If they should come to learn of this affair from others, rather
than by our means, think of what the situation would be! If we give out
the information ourselves, we shall show that an act of justice has
been committed. If we conceal anything, we shall place ourselves in
the category of malefactors. People might even suppose----”
To listen to M. Rance’s stammering speech and to observe his demeanor,
one might almost have imagined that he was the slayer of Frederic
Larsan--he who was in danger of being accused of murder and dragged to
prison.
“It is necessary to think of everything, gentlemen,” he concluded. And
Edith added:
“I believe that my husband is right. But before we come to a decision,
we ought to know just what has happened.”
And she addressed herself directly to M. and Mme. Darzac. But both of
the latter were still under the spell of surprise which Rouletabille
had caused them by his remarks--Rouletabille who that very morning, in
my presence, had promised to be silent and had sworn us all to silence.
Neither the one nor the other had a word to say. M. Rance repeated,
nervously: “Why should we conceal anything? Why should we? We must tell
everything.”
All at once, the reporter seemed to take a sudden resolution. I
understood by the expressions which chased themselves over his face
in rapid succession that something of considerable moment was passing
through his mind. He leaned toward Arthur Rance, whose right hand was
resting on a cane, the head of which was carved in ivory, beautifully
cut by a famous carver at Dieppe. Rouletabille took the cane in his
hand.
“May I look at it?” he asked. “I am an amateur ivory carver myself and
my friend, Sainclair, here, has told me about this beautiful cane. I
had not noticed it before. It is really very beautiful. It is a figure
by Lambesse and there is no better workman on the Norman shore.”
The young man seemed to be entirely engrossed in studying the cane. As
he touched the carving, the stick fell from his hand and rolled toward
M. Darzac. I picked it up and returned it immediately to M. Rance.
Rouletabille cast a withering look at me, and I read in that glance
that, somehow or other, I had shown myself an idiot.
Mme. Edith rose to her feet, tapping her little foot impatiently
and seemingly very nervous at the tension of the situation--by the
carelessness of Rouletabille and the silence of M. and Mme. Darzac.
“Dearest,” she said to Mme. Darzac, in the sweetest tones. “You are
completely tired out. The experiences of this horrible night have
overpowered you. Let me take you into my own room so that you may rest
a little.”
“Pardon me for asking you to wait a few moments, Madame,” interrupted
Rouletabille. “What I have yet to say may be of special interest to
you.”
“Very well, monsieur, but speak out, please. Don’t drag the recital
along so.”
She was perfectly justified in her remarks. Did Rouletabille realize
it? At all events, he certainly made up for his previous deliberation
by the rapidity and clearness with which he retraced the events of
the night. In no other words could the problem of the “body too many”
have been presented before us with such mysterious horror. Mme. Edith
shivered--and if her shudder was counterfeit, I never saw a real one!
As for Arthur Rance, he sat with his chin resting on the head of his
cane, murmuring with a truly American coolness, but in accents of the
strongest conviction: “What a devilish history! The story of the body
which could not have gotten into the room is a page from the notebook
of Satan himself!”
While he was speaking, he was gazing at the tip of Mme. Darzac’s shoe
which peeped out from the hem of her gown. In the moment which followed
the closing of Rouletabille’s narration, conversation became a little
more general; but it was less a conversation than such a confused
mixture of exclamations and interruptions, of interjections and
indignation and demands for explanations on one point or another that
the confusion seemed more increased than ever before. They spoke also
of the horrible departure of “the body too many” in the potato sack,
and at this point, Mme. Edith took occasion to once more express her
admiration for M. Robert Darzac as a hero and a gentleman. Rouletabille
never opened his lips during this torrent of words. It was plain to
be seen that he despised this verbal manifestation of perturbation of
spirits, but he endured it with the air of a professor who permits a
few moments relaxation to pupils who have been well behaved in school.
This was a mannerism of his which often vexed me and with which I
sometimes reproached him, but without having any effect on him, for
Rouletabille was likely to give himself whatever airs he chose.
At length--probably when it appeared to him that the recreation had
lasted long enough, he asked abruptly of Mrs. Rance:
“Well, Madame, do you think we ought to inform the authorities?”
“I think so more than ever,” she replied. “That which we are powerless
to discover, they would certainly find out.” (This allusion to the
intellectual incapacity of my friend left him profoundly indifferent).
“And I warn you of one thing, M. Rouletabille, and that is that we
may already be too late in seeking out the officers of justice. If we
had told them of our fears at the very beginning, you would have been
spared some long hours of watching and sleepless nights which have
profited you nothing, since, as now appears, they did not prevent what
you dreaded from coming to pass.”
Rouletabille seated himself, evidently conquering some strong emotion
which made him tremble as though he were chilled to the bone. Then with
a wave of the hand which he strove to render careless, he motioned Mme.
Edith to a chair and again picked up the cane which M. Rance had laid
down upon a sofa. I said to myself: “What is he trying to do with that
stick? This time, I won’t touch it, I’m certain. I must keep a lookout.”
Playing with the cane, Rouletabille replied to Mme. Edith with an
attack almost as sharp as her own.
“Madame, you are wrong in asserting that all the precautions which I
had taken for the safety of M. and Mme. Darzac have been useless. If
I am obliged to acknowledge the unexplainable presence of one body
too many, I am also compelled to refer to the absence--perhaps less
inexplicable--of one member of our own party.”
We stared at each other, some of us seeking to understand, the others
dreading to do so.
“What is that?” inquired Mme. Edith, with a mocking little smile. “In
such a case, I fail to see how you find any mystery at all.” And she
added with a flippant imitation of the reporter’s words and manner:
“A body too many on the one side; an unexplained absence on the other!
Everything is for the best.”
“Perhaps,” rejoined Rouletabille. “But the most frightful thing of
all is that the unexplained disappearance comes just at the right
time to make known to us, apparently, the identity of the ‘body too
many.’ Madame, I deeply regret to tell you that the person for whose
whereabouts we are unable to account, is none other than your uncle,
Monsieur Bob.”
“Old Bob!” screamed the young woman. “Old Bob has disappeared!”
And we all cried out with her:
“Old Bob has disappeared?”
“Unfortunately, it is true!” said Rouletabille.
And he let the cane drop to the ground.
But the news of the sudden disappearance of Old Bob had so seized the
Rances and the Darzacs that no one paid any attention to the cane as it
fell.
“My dear Sainclair, will you be kind enough to pick up that cane?”
asked Rouletabille.
I did as I was ordered and quickly, too, but Rouletabille did not even
deign to thank me. Mme. Edith turned like a lioness upon Robert Darzac,
who recoiled from her almost in fear as she shrieked:
“You have killed my uncle!”
Her husband and myself, with difficulty, prevented her from flying at
him. We entreated her to be calm and to remember that because her uncle
had absented himself from the peninsula did not necessarily mean that
he had disappeared in the potato sack and we reproached Rouletabille
with his brutality in blurting out an idea which could only be, at the
present time, at all events, an hypothesis of his uneasy mind. And we
added, imploring Mme. Edith to listen to us, that this hypothesis could
under no circumstances be looked upon by her either as an injury or an
insult, even admitting that it might be the true one, as it would only
show the superhuman cunning of Larsan, who must, in that case, have
taken the place of her respected uncle. But the young woman ordered her
husband to be quiet, and said, turning scornfully to me:
“M. Sainclair, I sincerely hope that my uncle’s absence from here
will only be of short duration; for if it should turn out otherwise,
I should accuse you of being an accomplice in the most cowardly of
murders. As to you, monsieur,” and she turned to Rouletabille, “the
mere idea that you have ever dared to compare a man like Larsan with
my uncle, the gentlest, kindliest soul and the greatest scholar of his
time, forbids me to ever again consider you in the light of a friend,
and I hope that you will have the courtesy to relieve me of your
presence as soon as possible.”
“Madame,” replied Rouletabille, bowing very low, “I was just about to
ask your permission to take leave of you. I have a short journey of
twenty-four hours to take. At the expiration of that time, I shall
return, ready to be of any possible assistance to you in whatever
difficulties may arise in accounting for the disappearance of your
uncle.”
“If my uncle has not returned within twenty-four hours, I shall lodge a
complaint in the hands of the police, monsieur.”
“It is a good plan, Madame; but before having recourse to it,
I advise you to question all the servants in whom you have
confidence--particularly Mattoni. You trust Mattoni, do you not?”
“Yes, monsieur, I trust Mattoni.”
“Well, then, Madame, question him--question him. Ah--before I take my
departure, allow me to leave with you this excellent and historical
book.” And Rouletabille drew a small volume from his pocket.
“What foolery is this?” demanded Mme. Edith, superbly disdainful.
“This, Madame, is a work of M. Albert Bataille, a copy of his ‘Civil
and Criminal Cases,’ in which I advise you to read the adventures,
disguises, travesties and deceptions wrought by an illustrious swindler
whose true name was Ballmeyer.”
Rouletabille entirely ignored the fact that he had only the day before
spent two hours in recounting to Mme. Edith the exploits of Ballmeyer.
“After having read this,” he went on, “ask yourself carefully whether
the cleverness of such an individual would have found very great
difficulty in presenting himself before your eyes under the guise of
an uncle whom you had not seen in four years--for it was four years,
Madame, since you had seen Old Bob, until that time that you started
out to the heart of the Pampas to look for him. As to the memory of
M. Arthur Rance, who started out with you on that journey, it would
be even less distinct than your own and he would be more capable of
being deceived than yourself with your intuition of kinship added to
your recollections of your relative. I implore you on my knees, Madame,
do not lose patience with us. The situation, Heaven knows, is grave
enough for each and every one of us. Let us remain united. You tell
me to rid you of my presence. I am going but I shall return; for if it
is necessary, taking everything into consideration, to arrive at the
intolerable conclusion that Larsan has assumed the name and likeness of
Monsieur Bob, it will remain for us only to seek Monsieur Bob himself,
in which case, Madame, I shall be at your disposal and your most humble
and obedient servant.”
Mme. Edith assumed the attitude of an outraged tragedy queen and
Rouletabille, turning to Arthur Rance, continued:
“For all that has happened, M. Rance, I make you my humblest excuses
and also to your wife. And I count upon you as the loyal gentleman that
you are and always have been to persuade her to have patience a little
longer. I realize that you feel that you have reason to reproach me
with having stated my hypothesis too quickly and too abruptly, but,
please remember, it is only a few moments since Madame reproached me
with being too slow.”
But Arthur Rance seemed to have ceased to listen. He took his wife’s
arm and both moved toward the door and were about to leave the room
when the portals flew open and the stable boy, Walter, Old Bob’s
faithful servant, rushed into our midst. His clothing was torn, muddy
and covered with burs and thistles. Perspiration was streaming down
his forehead and cheeks, his hair was in disorder and his face wore
an expression of rage mingled with terror which made us fear some
new misfortune. He carried in his hand a dirty rag which he threw
upon the table. This repulsive object, stained with great blotches of
reddish brown was (as we divined immediately, recoiling from it in
horror) nothing other than the sack which had served to carry off the
mysterious body.
With a harsh voice and savage gestures, Walter howled forth a thousand
incomprehensible things in his broken jumble of French and English and
all of us with the exception of Arthur Rance and Mme. Edith, asked each
other, “What is he saying? What is he saying?”
Arthur Rance interrupted him from time to time, while Walter shook his
fists menacingly at the rest of us and cast fiery glances at Robert
Darzac. Once, for a moment, it seemed as though he intended to seize
Darzac by the throat, but a gesture from Mme. Edith restrained him.
When he finished speaking, Arthur Rance translated his words for us.
“He says that this morning he noticed blood stains on the English cart
and saw that Toby seemed very greatly fatigued. This puzzled him so
much that he decided to speak of it at once to Old Bob, but he sought
his master in vain. Then, seized by a dark foreboding, he followed the
prints of the horse’s feet and the wheels of the vehicle which he could
easily do because the road was muddy and the wheels had sunk deep.
Finally he reached the old Castillon and noticed that the wheels led
up to a deep chasm into which he descended, believing that he should
find the body of his master; but he saw merely this empty sack which
may have contained the corpse of Old Bob, and now, having caught a ride
in a peasant’s wagon, he has returned to ask for his master, to learn
whether anyone has seen him, and, if he is not found, to accuse Robert
Darzac of having caused his death.”
We stood confounded. But, to our great astonishment, Mme. Edith was the
first to recover her self-possession. She spoke a few words to Walter
which appeared to quiet him, promising him that she would soon bring
him face to face with Old Bob, who was perfectly safe and well. And she
said to Rouletabille:
“You have twenty-four hours, Monsieur; make the best use of it.”
“Thanks, Madame,” said Rouletabille. “But if your uncle should not
return in that time, it will be because my idea was correct.”
“But where can he be!” she cried.
“I cannot tell you, Madame. He is not in the sack now, at all events.”
Mme. Edith cast a withering glance at him and left the room, followed
by her husband. The sight of the sack seemed to have stricken Robert
Darzac speechless. He had thrown the bag into an abyss and it was
brought back empty. After a moment’s pause, Rouletabille spoke:
“Larsan is not dead, be sure of that! Never has the situation been so
frightful as it is to-day and I must hurry away at once. I have not
a minute to lose. Twenty-four hours--in twenty-four hours, I shall
be back. But promise me--swear to me, both of you, that you will not
quit the château. Swear to me, M. Darzac, that you will watch over
your wife--that you will prevent her from leaving these walls, even by
force, if it is necessary. Ah--and again--it is no longer necessary
that you should sleep in the Square Tower. No, you ought not to do
so. In the same wing where M. Stangerson is lodged, there are two
empty rooms. You must occupy them. It is absolutely necessary that you
should. Sainclair, you will see that this change is made. After my
departure, see that neither the one nor the other of them shall set
foot in the Square Tower. Adieu! Ah, wait!--let me embrace you--all
three.”
He pressed us to his heart: M. Darzac first, then myself, and then,
falling into the arms of the Lady in Black, he burst into a passion of
sobs. This show of weakness and of grief on the part of Rouletabille,
in spite of the gravity of the circumstances of his departure, appeared
to me very strange. Alas! how easy it was for me to understand it
afterward!