IN WHICH ROULETABILLE ORDERS THE IRON DOORS TO BE CLOSED
The weapon belonged to Prince Galitch, but there was no doubt in the
mind of any one of us that it had been stolen by Old Bob, and we could
not forget that with his latest breath Bernier had accused Larsan of
being his assassin. Never had the image of Old Bob and that of Larsan
been so inextricably confounded in our restless spirits as since
Rouletabille had found “the oldest dagger known to the human race”
dripping with the blood of Bernier. Mme. Edith had at once realized
that henceforth the fate of Old Bob lay in the hands of Rouletabille.
The latter had only to say a few words to the delegato relative to the
singular incidents which had accompanied the fall of Old Bob into the
cave in the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet, enumerating the reasons which
had given occasion for fear that Old Bob and Larsan were one and the
same, and, finally, repeating the accusation made by the last victim
of Larsan, in order to fix the suspicions of the delegato firmly upon
the wigged head of the professor of geology. And, therefore, Mme.
Edith, who in her filial affection had not ceased to believe that the
man who lay on his bed in the Square Tower was really her uncle, had
begun to imagine, thanks to the bloody weapon, that the invisible
Larsan had woven so strong a web of circumstantial evidence around old
Bob that it could scarcely be broken, with the design, doubtless, of
making the old man suffer the punishment for the wretch’s own crimes
and also the dangerous weight of his personality. Mme. Edith trembled
for Old Bob and for herself. She trembled with fear, like an insect
in the center of the web in which it has lost itself--this mysterious
web woven by Larsan, attached by invisible threads to the old walls
of the Château of Hercules. She felt as though if she were to make a
sudden movement--to say anything even--both she and her uncle would be
lost, and that some horrible beast of prey awaited only this signal to
spring upon and devour her. So she who had been so anxious to speak out
stood silent and when Rouletabille was called upon, it was her turn to
fear. She told me afterward of her state of mind at this time and she
acknowledged to me that her terror of Larsan had reached such a pitch
as even we, who had known so much of his evil power already, had never
experienced. This were wolf whose name she had so often heard spoken
in accents of horror which had made her smile, had begun to interest
her, when she learned of the events of the Yellow Room, because of the
impossibility of the police discovering the manner of his exit. Her
interest had increased when she had heard the story of the attack of
the Square Tower because of the impossibility of anyone’s explaining
how Larsan could have entered; but, now--now, in the full glare of the
noonday sun, Larsan had killed a man almost under her own eyes, and
within a radius in which there was at the time only herself, Robert
Darzac, Rouletabille, myself, Old Bob and Mere Bernier, each and every
one of them far enough away from the body so that not one could have
struck Bernier down. And Bernier had accused Larsan! Where was Larsan?
_In whose body?_--according to the reasoning which I had set forth
to her myself in telling her the story of the “inexplicable gallery”?
She had been under the arch with Darzac and myself, standing between
us, with Rouletabille in front of us, when the death cry had resounded
at the end of the shadow of the eucalyptus tree--that is to say, at
least, seven meters away. As to Old Bob and Mere Bernier, they had
not been separated; the one had watched over the other. If she placed
them outside the realms of possibility, there was no one left to kill
Bernier. Not alone this time was everyone ignorant how _he_ had
departed but also of _how he had been present_. Ah, she understood
now that when one thought of Larsan there were moments in which one
shivered to the marrow of one’s bones!
Nothing! Nothing anywhere around the corpse but the stone knife which
Old Bob had stolen! It was frightful--it was reason enough for us to
think of everything--to imagine everything!
She read the certainty of this conviction in the eyes and in the manner
of Rouletabille and of Robert Darzac. But she understood as soon as the
young man began speaking that he seemed to have no other end in view
than to save Old Bob from the suspicions of the authorities.
Rouletabille was given a seat between the delegato and the examining
magistrate who had arrived while Mme. Edith had been testifying, and
he gave his evidence (or rather, reasoned the matter out) holding
the “oldest knife known to the human race” in his hand. It seemed
definitely established that the guilty person could have been no other
than one of the living men and women who were near the dead man and
whom I have enumerated above, when Rouletabille proved with a logical
accuracy that overwhelmed the examining magistrate and plunged the
delegato into despair that the deed could only have been committed by
the dead man himself. The four persons at the postern gate and the two
persons in Old Bob’s room had each been looking at the others and had
not lost sight of each other while _someone_ was killing Bernier a
few steps away, so it was impossible to believe that the killing could
have been done by any other than the victim.
To this the examining magistrate, greatly interested, replied by
inquiring whether any of us had reason to suspect any motive for
suicide on the part of Bernier, to which Rouletabille answered that the
supposition of suicide might easily be laid aside and that of accident
substituted for it. “The weapon of the crime,” as he called ironically
the “oldest knife known to the human race,” testified to the truth of
this theory by its presence. Rouletabille declared that there would be
no chance of an assassin meditating the commission of a murder with an
old piece of stone as an instrument. And still less could one believe
that Bernier, if he had resolved upon suicide, would not have found
another means toward his end than the one which had been used. But if,
on the contrary, that stone, which might have attracted his attention
by its strange form, had been picked up by Pere Bernier, and if he had
happened to slip and fall while holding it in his hand, everything
would be explained and very simply. Pere Bernier, undoubtedly, must
have thus unfortunately fallen upon this triangular flint which had
pierced his heart.
After Rouletabille had stated this hypothesis, the physician was
recalled, the wound examined once more and confronted with the fatal
object from which the scientific conclusion was reached that the wound
was made by the object. From this to the theory of accident, as stated
by Rouletabille, there was only a step. The judges spent six hours
in clearing up the matter--six hours during which they questioned us
without weariness but without result.
As to Mme. Edith and your humble servant, after some futile and useless
questions, asked while the doctors were at the bedside of Old Bob, we
were allowed to leave the room and we went to sit in the little parlor
just outside the bedroom and were there when the magistrates were ready
to depart. The door of this parlor which opened upon the corridor of
the Square Tower had not been closed. We could hear the sobs and groans
of Mere Bernier, who was watching beside the body of her husband which
had been carried into the lodge. Between this body and the wounded
man, the injury to one as inexplicable as the death of the other, the
situation of both Mrs. Rance and myself had become extremely painful,
in spite of Rouletabille’s efforts, and all the terrors which we had
experienced before grew pale and simple before the thought of what
might be yet to come. Edith suddenly seized me by the hand and cried
out:
“Do not leave me! I beg of you, don’t leave me! I have only you left.
I do not know where Prince Galitch is--I do not know anything about my
husband. That is what makes this so horrible. Arthur sent me a message,
saying that he was going in search of Tullio. He does not know even yet
that Bernier has been murdered. Has he found the ‘hangman of the sea’?
It is from this man--from Tullio now that I expect the truth! And not a
word has come! It is horrible!”
As she took my hand so confidingly and held it for a moment in her
own, I felt that I was for Mme. Edith with all my heart and soul and
I assured her that she might rely upon my devotion. We murmured a few
words of trust and eternal fidelity to each other in low voices while
there in the corridor we could see, passing back and forth, the dark
forms of the emissaries of justice, now preceded, now followed by
Rouletabille and M. Darzac. Rouletabille never failed to cast a glance
in our direction every time he had the opportunity. The window remained
open.
“Ah, he is watching us!” exclaimed Mme. Edith. “Why is that, I wonder?
Probably we are in his way and M. Darzac’s when we remain here. But,
whatever may happen, we shall not stir, shall we, M. Sainclair?”
“You ought to be grateful to Rouletabille,” I ventured to remind her;
“for his intervention and his silence relative to the ‘oldest knife
known to the human race.’ If the officers had learned that this stone
dagger belonged to your uncle, Bob, what could have hindered them from
placing him under arrest? Or if they knew that Bernier in dying had
accused Larsan of his murder, the story of the accident would have
found very little credence.”
I placed an emphasis upon these last words.
“Oh!” she cried, bitterly. “Your friend has as many good reasons to
keep silence as I have! And I dread only one thing, M. Sainclair--I
dread only one thing!”
“And what is that?”
She arose, her eyes shining with fever.
“I fear lest he has saved my uncle from the authorities only to ruin
him more completely.”
“How can you think such a thing for a moment?” I asked her, convinced
that her fears were robbing her of her senses.
“I am sure that I could read some such plan in the eyes of your friend
a little while ago. If I were sure that I were right, I would rather
hand my uncle over to the mercies of the authorities!”
I managed to quiet her a little and to make her cast aside such an
impossible supposition, and, at length, she said:
“At all events, it is necessary to be ready for anything, and I know
how to defend him so long as I draw breath.”
And she showed me a tiny revolver which was hidden in her gown.
“Ah!” she cried again. “Why is Prince Galitch not here?”
“Again?” I exclaimed, angrily.
“Is it actual truth that you are ready to defend me?” she demanded,
turning her beautiful eyes full upon my own.
“I am ready.”
“Against the whole world?”
I hesitated. She repeated the words again:
“Against the whole world?”
“Yes.”
“Against your friend even?”
“If it should be necessary,” I answered with a sigh, passing my hand
across my forehead.
“Very well: I believe you!” she answered. “In that case, I will leave
you here for a few minutes. You will guard this door _for me_!”
And she pointed to the door behind which Old Bob was resting. Then she
ran out of the room. Where was she going? She confessed to me later.
She was going to look for the Prince Galitch! Oh, woman, woman!
She had scarcely disappeared under the arch when Rouletabille and
M. Darzac entered the room. They had heard all that had passed.
Rouletabille advanced to my side and told me quietly that he was aware
that I had betrayed him.
“You are using a large word, Rouletabille!” I exclaimed. “You know that
I am not in the habit of betraying anyone! Mme. Edith is really very
much to be pitied and you do not pity her enough, my friend.”
“Ah, well! you pity her too much!”
I blushed to the roots of my hair. I started to make some reply but
Rouletabille cut short my words with a dry gesture.
“I ask you only one thing--only one, you understand. It is that, no
matter what may happen--_no matter what may happen_--you shall not
address one word to either M. Darzac or to myself.”
“That will be a very easy thing to promise!” I replied, foolishly
irritated, and I turned my back upon him. It seemed to me that it was
with difficulty that he refrained from uttering some angry speech.
But at the same moment, the officers, coming out of the New Castle,
called to us. The inquest was at an end. There was no doubt, in their
eyes, after the declaration of the doctors, that the affair had been an
accident and that was the verdict which they felt obliged to render.
M. Darzac and Rouletabille accompanied them to the outer gate. And as
I stood leaning on my elbows, at the window which opens upon the Court
of the Bold, assailed by a thousand sinister presentiments and awaiting
with an increasing anxiety for the return of Mme. Edith, while a few
steps away in the lodge, where the candles had been lighted around
Bernier’s bier, Mere Bernier kept on sobbing and praying beside the
corpse of her husband, I suddenly heard a sound which fell upon the
evening air like the blow of an immense gong; and I knew that it was
Rouletabille who had ordered the iron gates to be closed.
Not a single minute passed after that when I saw Mme. Edith rush into
the room and hurry to me as though I were her only refuge.
Then I saw M. Darzac appear--
Then Rouletabille, and leaning on his arm was the Lady in Black.