OLD BOB’S TERRIBLE ADVENTURE
When I awakened my thoughts were still dwelling on Larsan. And, in
truth, I did not know what to think either of myself or any other
person--of Larsan’s death or of his life. Had he been wounded less
seriously than we had thought? Or shall I say, “Was he _less dead_
than we had thought?” Had he been able to extricate himself from
the sack which Darzac had cast in the gulf of Castillon? After all,
the thing was not impossible, or, rather, the possibility was not
altogether without the bounds of what might be looked for from the
superhuman cunning and prowess of a Larsan--particularly since Walter
had explained that he had found the sack three meters from the mouth
of the abyss upon a natural landing place the existence of which M.
Darzac assuredly did not suspect when he believed that he was throwing
Larsan’s body into the orifice.
My second thoughts turned to Rouletabille. What was he doing now? Why
had he gone away? Never had his presence at the Fort of Hercules been
so necessary as now. If he delayed his return, this day could scarcely
pass without bringing the unfriendly feeling between the Rances and the
Darzacs to an open issue.
As I lay there puzzling my brain over the outcome of the affair, I
heard someone knocking at my door. It was Pere Bernier, who brought me
a brief note from my friend which had been handed to Pere Jacques by a
little lad from the village. Rouletabille wrote: “I shall return early
in the morning. Get up as soon as this reaches you and be good enough
to go fishing for my breakfast and catch some of the fine trout which
are so plentiful among the rocks near the Point of Garibaldi. Do not
lose an instant. Thanks and remembrances.--ROULETABILLE.”
This communication gave me more food for thought, for I knew by
experience that whenever Rouletabille seemed most occupied with trivial
matters, his activity was really most thoroughly engaged with important
subjects.
I dressed myself in haste, provided myself with some old tackle which
was furnished me by Bernier, and set out to obey the request of my
young friend. As I went out of the North gate, having encountered
nobody at that early hour of the morning (it was about seven o’clock),
I was joined by Mme. Edith, to whom I showed what Rouletabille had
written. The young woman was greatly dejected over the unexplained
absence of her uncle, remarked that the letter was “so queer that it
made her nervous,” and she informed me that she intended to follow me
to the trout streams. On the way, she confided to me the fact that
her uncle had not an enemy in the world, so far as she knew, and she
said that she had been hoping against hope that he would yet return
and that everything would be satisfactorily explained, but now the
idea had entered her brain that by some frightful mistake, Old Bob had
fallen a victim to the vengeance of Darzac and she was nearly wild with
apprehension.
And she added, between her pretty teeth, a few words of contempt and
wrath for the Lady in Black. “My patience can hold out until noon, I
hope!” she said, and then was silent.
We started to fish for Rouletabille’s trout. Mrs. Rance and I both
removed our shoes and stockings, but I concerned myself more about
the dainty bare feet of my pretty hostess than about my own. The fact
is, that Edith’s feet, as I discovered in the Bay of Hercules, were
as beautifully shaped and pink as flowers and they made me forget the
trout of my poor Rouletabille to such an extent that he must certainly
have gone without his breakfast if Edith had not shown more energy than
I. She clambered into the pools and crept among the rocks with a grace
which enchanted me more than I dared express. Suddenly we both desisted
from our task and pricked up our ears at the same moment. We heard
cries from the shore where the grottoes are. Upon the very threshold
of the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet we distinguished a little group, the
persons in which were making gestures of appeal. Urged on by the same
presentiment, we hastily rushed to the beach and in a few seconds we
learned that, attracted by moans, two fishermen had just discovered in
a cave in the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet an unfortunate human being who
had fallen into the chasm and who must have been there helpless for
several hours.
The quick conjecture which rushed into both our minds at once proved to
be the right one. It was Old Bob who had been fished out of the cave.
When he had been drawn up on the beach in the full light of day, he
certainly presented a pitiable spectacle. His beautiful black coat was
torn and covered with mud and his white shirt was as black as tar. Mme.
Edith burst into tears and nearly went into hysterics when she found
that the old man had a broken collar bone and a sprained foot. And he
was so pale that he looked as if he were going to die on the spot.
Happily, the case was far less serious than it at first appeared. Ten
minutes later he was, according to his own orders, stretched out on
his bed in his room in the Square Tower. But could anyone believe that
he absolutely refused to be undressed, even so far as to have his coat
removed, before the arrival of the doctors? Mme. Edith, more and more
nervous, installed herself as his nurse; but when the physicians came,
Old Bob ordered his niece not only to leave his room but to go out of
the Square Tower altogether. And he insisted that the door should be
locked after her.
This last precaution was a great surprise to us all. We were assembled
in the Court of the Bold, M. and Mme. Darzac, M. Arthur Rance and
myself, as well as Pere Bernier who haunted my footsteps, awaiting
the news. When Mme. Edith quitted the tower after the arrival of the
medical men, she came to us and said:
“Let us hope that his injuries won’t be serious. Old Bob is solid as a
rock. What did I tell you about him? I have made his confess, the old
sinner! He was trying to steal Prince Galitch’s skull which he believed
to be more ancient than his own. Just the jealousy of one savant toward
another. We shall all laugh at him when he is cured!”
At that moment the door of the Square Tower opened and Walter, Old
Bob’s faithful servant, appeared. His face was pale and he seemed very
nervous.
“Oh, Miss Edith!” he cried out. “He is covered with blood! He doesn’t
want anything to be said about it, but he must be saved----”
Edith had already rushed into the Square Tower. As to us we dared not
utter a word. Soon the young woman returned.
“Oh!” she sobbed. “It is frightful. His whole breast is torn open!”
I started to offer her the support of my arm, for, strangely enough
M. Arthur Rance had withdrawn to some distance and was walking upon
the boulevard, whistling and with his hands behind his back. I tried
to comfort and to soothe Mme. Edith, but neither M. nor Mme. Darzac
uttered a word.
* * * * *
Rouletabille reached the castle about an hour after these events. I
watched for his return from the highest part of the western boulevard
and as soon as I saw his form appearing in the distance I hurried to
meet him. He cut short my demands for an explanation and asked me
immediately if I had made a good catch, but I was not at all deceived
by the expression of his countenance, and wishing to reply to him in
his own style of banter, I replied:
“Oh, yes: a very good catch. I fished up Old Bob.”
He started violently. I shrugged my shoulders, for I believed that he
was counterfeiting surprise, and I went on:
“Oh, go on! You knew very well what kind of fish I should find when you
sent your message!”
He fixed an astonished glance on me.
“You certainly must be unaware of the purport of your words, my dear
Sainclair, or else you would have spared me the trouble of protesting
against such an accusation.”
“What accusation?” I cried.
“That of having left Old Bob in the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet, knowing
that he might be dying there.”
“Oh, nonsense!” I cried. “Old Bob is far from dying. He has a sprained
foot and a broken collar bone, and his story of his misfortune is
perfectly plain and straightforward. He declares that he was trying to
steal Prince Galitch’s skull.”
“What a funny idea!” exclaimed Rouletabille, bursting out laughing. He
leaned toward me and looked full into my eyes.
“Do you believe that story? And--and that is all? No other injuries?”
“Yes,” I replied. “There is another injury, but the doctors declare
that it is not at all serious. He has a wound in the breast.”
“A wound in the breast!” repeated Rouletabille, touching my hand,
nervously. “And how was this wound made?”
“We do not know. None of us have seen it. Old Bob is strangely modest.
He would not even permit his coat to be taken off in our presence; and
the coat hid the wound so well that we should never have suspected it
was there if Walter had not come to tell us, frightened at the sight of
the blood.”
As soon as we came to the château, we encountered Mme. Edith, who
appeared to have been watching for us.
“My uncle won’t have me near him,” she said, regarding Rouletabille
with an air of anxiety different from anything I had ever noticed in
her before. “It’s incomprehensible!”
“Ah, Madame,” replied the reporter, making a low bow to his hostess. “I
assure you that nothing in the world is incomprehensible, when one is
willing to take a little trouble to understand it.” And he offered her
his congratulations upon having had her uncle restored to her at the
moment when she was ready to despair of ever seeing him again.
Mme. Edith seemed about to inquire into the purport of the enigmatical
words at the beginning of my friend’s remarks when we were joined by
Prince Galitch. He had come to ask for news of his old friend, Bob, of
whose misfortune he had learned. Mme. Edith reassured him as to her
uncle’s condition and entreated the Prince to pardon her relative for
his too excessive devotion to the “oldest skulls in the history of
humanity.” The Prince smiled graciously and with the utmost kindliness
when he was told that Old Bob had been attempting to steal his skull.
“You will find your skull,” Mrs. Rance told him, “in the bottom of the
cave in the grotto where it rolled down with him. Your collection will
be unimpaired, Prince.”
The Prince asked for the details. He seemed very curious about the
affair. And Mme. Edith told how her uncle had acknowledged to her
that he had quitted the Fort of Hercules by way of the air shaft
which communicated with the sea. As soon as she said this, I recalled
the experience of Rouletabille with the flask of water and also the
close iron bars, and the falsehoods which Old Bob had uttered assumed
gigantic proportions in my mind, and I was sure that the rest of the
party must hold the same opinion as myself. Mme. Edith told us that
Tullio had been waiting with his boat at the opening of the gallery
abutting on the shaft, to row the old savant to the bank in front of
the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet.
“Why so many twists and turnings when it was so simple to go out by the
gate?” I could not restrain myself from exclaiming.
Mme. Edith looked at me reproachfully and I regretted having even
seemed to have taken part against her in any way.
“And this is stranger yet!” said the Prince. “Day before yesterday, the
‘hangman of the sea’ came to bid me adieu, saying that he was going to
leave the country, and I am sure that he took the train for Venice, his
native city, at five o’clock in the afternoon. How then could he have
conveyed your uncle in his boat late that night? In the first place, he
was not in this part of the world; in the second, he had sold his boat.
He told me so, adding that he would never return to this country.”
There was a dead silence and Prince Galitch continued:
“All this is of little importance--provided that your uncle, Madame,
recovers speedily from his injuries and, again,” he added with another
smile, more charming than those which had preceded it--“if you will
aid me in regaining a poor piece of flint which has disappeared from
the grotto and of which I will give you the description. It is a sharp
piece of flint, twenty-five centimeters long and shaped at one end to
the form of a dagger--in brief, the oldest dagger of the human race. I
value it greatly and, perhaps you may be able to learn, Madame, through
your uncle, Bob, what has become of it.”
Mme. Edith at once gave her promise to the Prince, with a certain air
of haughtiness which pleased me greatly, that she would do everything
possible to obtain for him news of so precious an object. The Prince
bowed low and left us. When we had finished returning his parting
salutes, we saw M. Arthur Rance before us. He must have heard the
conversation for he seemed very thoughtful. He had his ivory-headed
cane in his hand, and was whistling, according to his habit. And he
looked at Mme. Edith with an expression so strange that she appeared
somewhat exasperated.
“I know exactly what you are thinking, sir!” she said. “It does not
astonish me in the least. And you may keep on thinking so, if it amuses
you, for aught I care.”
And she stepped nearer Rouletabille, smiling nervously.
“At all events,” she exclaimed. “You can never explain to me how, when
_he_ was outside the Square Tower, _he_ could have hidden behind
that panel.”
“Madame,” said Rouletabille, slowly and impressively, looking at the
young woman as though he were trying to hypnotize her, “have patience
and have courage. If God is with me, before night I shall explain to
you all that you wish to know.”