NEMESIS
When Pierre Duval left by the night train for Bordeaux it was his
intention to take one of the Sud Atlantique steamers and sail for South
America. On alighting at the terminus at Bordeaux he glanced round to
see that no one was observing him, and being satisfied on that score he
bid the cocher drive to the Hotel Montesquieu.
"Thank goodness," he said to himself, "I am safe at last, and this day
week I shall be on board _La Gascogne_, bound for Rio de Janeiro and no
one will recognise me there."
He busied himself during the morning in arranging his affairs, and
purchased a first-class ticket at the Compagnie de Navigation Sud
Atlantique, and spent the rest of the afternoon in seeing the sights
of the town. After dinner he went out for a stroll and purchased an
evening paper at one of the kiosks, and to his horror he saw in large
type a detailed account of the death of General Duval.
The narrative stated that General Duval had been found lying on the
carpet in Pierre's dining-room shot through the heart. The theory of
suicide was dismissed as improbable, as although the door was locked
on the inside, the windows were wide open, and several pieces of
furniture were broken and scattered about the room along with a few
coins. It was suggested that some burglars loafing around had seen
the valet, and later on, Pierre leaving the house, and surmising that
his chambers were empty, had entered his room through the window, and
being surprised by the General had shot him during the struggle. The
thieves, fearing lest someone might have heard the shot, had evidently
hastily locked the door and escaped by the same window. The police,
they added significantly, were reticent on the matter as to the origin
of the crime.
The next day a further article appeared in the newspapers announcing
that a reward had been offered for any information which might be given
which would lead to the arrest of the criminal, and pointed out that
the General's only son, Pierre Gaston Duval, was suspected. All of a
sudden Pierre passed a hoarding and saw to his horror a police notice
pasted on it bearing an enlarged print of his own portrait with a full
description of his person, and below in large letters the statement
that a reward of five thousand francs would be given to anyone not an
accessory to the crime who would give such information as would lead to
his arrest.
"H'm," he thought, "it may be as well to lie low until the departure of
the steamer, in case there might be someone about who would recognise
me in my disguise."
Accordingly he kept to his room, merely going out in the evening to
purchase the latest editions of the papers. As the time passed and
nothing happened he got more venturesome, and the last evening but
one before _La Gascogne_ sailed, he said to himself, "I will risk it,
and go to the theatre and enjoy myself for the last time in France.
Garçon," he said, after table d'hote was over, "bring me the evening
paper--are there any good plays at the theatre to-night?"
"I can recommend 'La Debutante,' sir," said the waiter, "I hear it is a
very spicy play, and is drawing crowds every night."
Pierre took his advice and secured a box near the stage. He looked
round the theatre, sweeping the rows of sightseers one after another
with his opera glass, and at length a beautiful woman caught his eye.
She was seated in a box directly opposite him, and was apparently all
by herself--at least there was no gentleman there. The lady appeared
to be half French and half Spanish, and seemed to embody the charms of
both races. Her beauty had an extraordinary fascination for him, and
after keeping his opera glasses fixed on her for some time, he noticed
to his intense delight that he had attracted her attention as well. He
kissed his hand towards her and observed that she inclined her head
slightly with a bewitching smile. This was quite enough encouragement
for Pierre.
His character was a curious mixture of boldness derived from some
hereditary trait which impelled him to deeds of excessive rashness on
the spur of the moment, combined with an extreme caution and dread of
breaking the law which was the outcome of years of legal practice and
training.
The lady was unquestionably handsome. She possessed those languid dark
eyes and long silky eyelashes which are the distinguishing feature of
the Spanish donna. This was a type of beauty which impressed itself on
a man of the sensuous type of Pierre, so stepping out of his box he
purchased a magnificent bouquet of flowers, and made his way to the
lady's box.
On entering the box he received a smile from his fair divinity as she
graciously accepted the proffered bouquet, and pointed to a chair next
to her.
"Pray sit down," she said, "it is quite charming to have you by me. We
shall be able to have a delightful tête-a-tête together."
Pierre at once sat down and squeezed her hand with rapture.
The extreme familiarity of the lady would have frightened any
sober-minded gentleman away, and would doubtless have made Pierre
suspicious and put him on his guard; but he had already taken so much
champagne that it had clouded his wits, and he was further intoxicated
with her charms. Her voluptuous figure, her winning smiles, her small
beautifully modelled hands, rendered still more fascinating by the
well-fitting gloves, her brilliant dark wavy hair coiled up in the
latest fashion by the art of an expert coiffeur, the delicate perfume,
all contributed to hypnotize his senses, and prevent his observing the
entire absence of that reserve of manner, and of those qualities which
invariably bespeak a real lady in any part of the civilized world.
"I suppose," he said, "you are living by yourself just now?"
"Yes, that is my fate for the present," and then afraid lest he should
want to know too much of her private life she added, "What is your
name, monsieur, if I may make so bold as to enquire?"
"My name? Oh, my name is Sylvestre Adam--a humble worshipper of you, my
divinity," and he put his arm round her waist and gave her a squeeze.
"How very curious," she replied, "my name is Julie Paradis."
"What a pretty name," he answered, "and how appropriate to the
occasion. Well I hope Adam will be allowed to remain in Paradise, and
will not be expelled from so fair a spot."
"That depends on his behaviour in the garden of Eden," replied Madame
Paradis, laughing. "He will be allowed to remain if he does not attempt
to pluck any of the forbidden fruit."
"May I not be allowed to receive it from your fair hands?" he added,
looking up in her face with a smile.
"Oh, you tempter," she said, tapping him with her fan. "And where do
you hail from, Monsieur, I suppose you come from Paris judging from
your accent?"
"No. There you are mistaken. A few years ago I used to live in Paris,
but my home is in Montevideo, and I only arrived here a few days ago."
"Entonces usted es Porteno?" she replied, in perfect Spanish.
Pierre muttered something in French quite inappropriate to her
question. He recognised his fatal mistake, but it was too late.
She looked at his face with a puzzled expression. "Yes, it is something
like him," she thought, "but I shall soon find out."
"Ah! monsieur, monsieur," she replied with a smile, "I can see that you
are a born Frenchman, and that you have never been to South America.
Now confess it, mon ami."
Pierre saw it was no use temporising, so he frankly admitted it
with a laugh. He had quite lost his head in the presence of this
charming siren, but although irresistibly attracted by her manners, he
nevertheless felt afraid of her. Her face lit up with smiles, but her
lips were thin and compressed, and he could feel that she might become
a terrible adversary if she had a fit of anger or jealousy.
"You don't seem to be paying much attention to the play, monsieur," she
remarked with a smile.
"Well, I confess, madame, you possess charms which far surpass those of
the play, and consequently I have been devoting myself exclusively to
the enjoyment of your company, instead of watching the actors."
"You flatter me, sir."
"Not at all--not in the least. But if you are not otherwise engaged it
would give me immense pleasure to take you out to supper."
"Shall we go?" she enquired in a winning voice.
Pierre assented.
"You can go home now, Marie," she added to her maid.
Pierre took her to a fashionable restaurant on one of the boulevards,
and afterwards saw her home.
"What a pity," he said to himself as he entered his hotel, "I shall
have no further opportunity of spending an evening in madame's charming
company--well, it can't be helped, but I must try to see her, once
more, to-morrow afternoon before I leave."
The next day on opening her newspaper, Madame Paradis's attention was
drawn to an account of a dreadful murder which had been committed
in Paris on a retired general of the name of Duval, and also on a
celebrated professor of science, together with a photograph of the
suspected criminal.
"Mon Dieu, but this is interesting."
At this moment M. Adam was announced.
"Ah, ma mie," said Pierre, alias Sylvestre Adam, "I trust you are well,
and that fortune smiles upon you. Diable! what were you so interested
about when I came in?"
"A terrible murder has been committed in Paris. Haven't you seen it?
The papers are full of it. General Duval has been brutally murdered by
his son. See, here is the photograph of the assassin," and she showed
it to Sylvestre.
A cold shudder went through him as he saw his own likeness in the
newspaper. He turned very pale, and seizing a decanter on the table, he
poured himself out a glass of wine and tossed it off.
"What's the matter?" she asked, noticing the change which went over
him. "Don't you feel well?"
"My dear one," he answered, "no wonder I feel pale, seeing that General
Duval is my god-father, and one of my dearest friends. He always placed
his house at my disposal. Ah! many a time he has given me a thousand
franc note to meet some small debt of honour. Just think of it? To lose
one's greatest benefactor in this dreadful way," and he pulled out his
handkerchief and wiped away a tear.
"Good God," he said to himself, "however could the police have found it
out? I suppose that scoundrel Deschamps, must have given the show away."
"I am really very sorry for you, mon cher," she answered, putting her
hands on his shoulders and giving him a kiss on the forehead. As she
did so she observed that he was wearing a wig, and looking closer she
noticed that his beard was false likewise. Now Pierre's left ear had a
very peculiar shape, and on glancing at the photograph in the newspaper
which showed the left side of his face, she recognised the same shaped
ear at once. Madame gave a little start and dropped the newspaper.
"What is the matter?" said Pierre, carefully scrutinizing her face to
see if she had observed anything in the photograph which she could
recognise in his features.
"Nothing, mon cher Sylvestre, but you looked so pale that I got
frightened. Take another glass of wine, it will do you good."
Pierre seized the decanter, and with a shaking hand poured himself out
another glass.
He lay down on the sofa while Madame Paradis, going to the piano,
played several airs.
"Pray go on," he said, as she stopped playing, "I quite enjoy it,
you play so beautifully. Let us go into the fresh air," he remarked
at length. "I think it will do us both good. We will take a stroll
through the public gardens and hear the music, or have some coffee at
one of the cafés, and then we can afterwards have some dinner together.
Let us make a good night of it, as I regret to say it is my last night
in France."
"Why? Where are you going to?" she enquired.
"I have booked my passage by _La Gascogne_ which sails to-morrow
afternoon for Rio de Janeiro."
"Well," she said, "I will be pleased to see you off if I may."
"That will be delightful," replied Pierre, hoping in his heart that
something would turn up to prevent her doing it.
Next morning she went to his hotel, and knocking at his bedroom door
went straight in and shut it.
Pierre felt very much annoyed at seeing her march into his room
unannounced in this fashion, but he tried to conceal his feelings and
even attempted to smile when she said she had come to bid him good-bye.
She bid him sit down on the sofa and took a seat by his side. "Now look
here, Monsieur Sylvestre, I know quite well who you are. Your real name
is Pierre Gaston Duval. Now it's no use denying it," she added, as he
was about to reply. "You insulted me at Maxim's Café only a short time
ago--do you remember the scene? I know well enough you are the man who
is wanted by the police, I could read your guilt in your face, even if
I had no other proofs. Do you see this ear?" said she pointing to the
photograph with her finger to the print. "Is it not exactly like yours?"
Pierre grew ghastly pale with fear, and trembled from head to foot. He
was about to deny all knowledge of it, but she interrupted him.
"You need not look so scared. If you will stay with me and meet a few
of my little bills which my dress-maker and others are pressing me
with rather inconveniently just now, I promise you I will keep your
secret--but if you attempt to run away, or step on board the steamer,
I swear I will inform the captain and the police at once. So long as
you perform these few favours for me I shall be devoted to you and make
you very happy. Only remember, the first time you fail to carry out my
requests, you know what will happen," and she shook her finger in his
face.
Pierre was furious and raised his fists as if to strike her, but the
determination in her face made him pause, and after a short period of
reflection he put his arms round her neck and kissed her ardently.
"Well," he said at length, "I see there is nothing for it but to obey
you."
"That's a good boy. I see you are beginning to learn your lessons very
well. You will find me a wonderfully good teacher," and she smiled and
gave him a kiss in return.
Pierre shrugged his shoulders in helpless fashion and looked very
gloomy.
Several days passed, and at her request he took a little house near
Biarritz where they lived together for some weeks.
At length money was beginning to run short and they both felt the need
of a change, so at her request they took the train for Monte Carlo.
It was only the second day after their arrival at the Metropole that
Pierre recognised Delapine and the rest of the party in the Salle de
Jeu. At once he saw the danger he was running, and so hastily quitting
the salon he gave Madame the slip and took the night train for Bordeaux.
No sooner had he arrived at Marseilles, and was on the point of
leaving, when who should step into the compartment but Madame Paradis.
* * * * *
The next day after the distribution of the spoils at the Hotel des
Anglais, Delapine's party had just finished lunch when Marcel, glancing
at Violette's ring, asked her if it had a history.
She related to him the same story she had told Riche a few months
before in the café at the corner of the Boulevard Michel.
Riche left his side of the table and examined the ring with Marcel.
"Please, mademoiselle," said Riche, "try and see whether the ring still
possesses the power it had when you first showed it to me."
Violette acquiesced, and suggesting that they should adjourn to another
room, they all followed suit.
"Now," said Violette, "if you will keep quite still I will see whether
it will tell me anything."
All the party including the professor were standing round her. At
length she raised her hand as if to command their attention.
"I see a lady and gentleman in a railway carriage all by themselves.
The lady has dark hair and is very beautiful. She is wearing a lovely
necklace carrying a large beautiful pendant--the couple are getting
out. I see the name of the station--it is Agen. Yes, now they are
entering the train once more--Oh! look--they are quarrelling. The man
is shaking her terribly. Now they are fighting--Mon Dieu! but it is
terrible. See he pulls out a pistol and has struck her with all his
might on the temple--Ah! she has fallen down--he lifts her up--she is
dead."
Payot, Riche and Marcel looked at one another horrified.
"Try whether you can see anything more," said Delapine quietly.
Violette looked once more at the ring.
"Yes, I see the man opening the carriage door--they are entering a
tunnel--he has pushed the lady out of the carriage--she has fallen on
to the line. Now he shuts the carriage door and sits down. Ah, it is
fading away--yes, it is gone, I see nothing more."
All the party looked at Violette and her ring.
"Can you describe the man?" enquired Delapine.
"Yes, he had shiny curly hair, and a small beard and whiskers."
"Did the lady look like this?" said Delapine, showing the photograph he
took in the salon the day before.
"Yes, I recognise her at once by the necklace and pendant," said
Violette.
He rang the bell and asked the garçon to fetch him a time-table.
"It is now about half-past one," said the professor taking out his
watch, "and as there is no stoppage between Agen and Bordeaux, it is
evident that Bordeaux is his destination. Bordeaux is the port from
which steamers sail for South America and the West Indies. South
America is one of the few spots in the world which the arm of the law
cannot easily reach, therefore it is most probable that he intends
going there."
"Waiter," he said, "fetch me the Continental Bradshaw. That will give
the time of sailings of the various ships."
"Ah, here we have it. _La Gascogne_ leaves Bordeaux February 27th, and
the _Divona_ February 21st. To-day is February 17th. If, therefore, we
communicate with the police at once they will have plenty of time to
arrest him in Bordeaux."
Delapine stepped up to the bureau and asked them to telephone to Nice
for M. Patrigent, the chief of the police.
Monsieur Patrigent was one of the most intelligent members of the
force. Active, smart and persevering, he had risen step by step to the
head of his department by sheer merit. He was a man who always acted
immediately, believing that to strike quickly was to strike effectively.
On receiving the telephone message he knew from its nature and source
that it was no ordinary crime he had to deal with. He therefore at once
ceased work, and sending his messenger to fetch his motor car he drove
at top speed to the Hotel des Anglais.
Villebois informed him of the previous doings of Pierre, of the twice
attempted murder of Delapine, of the setting fire to the house, of the
probable shooting of his own father. Some of the acts were of course
well known to Patrigent, but Villebois was able to explain the motif,
and to fill up gaps in the chain of evidence.
The chief of police listened with breathless interest as Villebois
unfolded the terrible record of crime, but when he told him
what Violette had seen in the ring he shook his head and smiled
incredulously.
"These statements are not evidence, they are merely phantasies," he
exclaimed. "Delusions, or illusions, or whatever you may please to call
them."
"But I assure you, M. Patrigent," said Riche, "what the young lady
saw is true, I am certain of it," and he told him of Violette's
previous vision with the ring, and pointed out how she had foretold
the attempted murder of Delapine in the séance room, and how her own
psychic vision saved Delapine's life.
M. Patrigent merely shrugged his shoulders incredulously.
"Well, if you still refuse to believe me I will call Professor Delapine
himself, who will endorse every word I have said, as it is only a few
weeks since he woke up from his trance."
At the mention of Delapine's name, the chef de police opened his eyes
in astonishment, and bowed nearly to the ground as the professor came
into the room.
M. Patrigent expressed his unbounded delight at meeting him.
"It is indeed an honour to be permitted to shake hands with the
greatest man in Europe," ... for his recovery from his marvellous
trance ... followed up by his superb play at Monte Carlo ... his arrest
... his defence of the charge made against him were becoming the sole
subjects of conversation in every town in France. One heard nothing
else but stories of the great seer all day long, and they grew in
magnitude from hour to hour.
After hearing Delapine's confirmation of Riche's story of the ring,
and seeing the photograph which the professor took in the salon,
it was not to be wondered at that M. Patrigent became a convert to
Violette's psychic powers, and now believed in them as firmly as he was
incredulous before.
After shaking hands all round he received Delapine's permission to take
away the precious photograph, and bowing profoundly left the apartment.
In about two hours he returned again to inform them that after leaving
he had immediately telegraphed to Agen to search the tunnel, and
that the body of a lady had been found in the tunnel near the place,
precisely as Violette had predicted.
"It is very wonderful, and I don't pretend to explain it, but I am as
convinced as you are that the facts are true, and acting solely on
mademoiselle's statement, I intend to leave at once for Bordeaux, and
if Dr. Riche will do me the honour to accompany me I will make it my
business to see that he shall be well rewarded by the Government for
his trouble."
Riche, who was listening, assented willingly, and the two gentlemen
departed at once by a special train for Bordeaux. They stopped at
Marseilles to change engines and have a hurried dinner at the buffet,
and then travelled right through to Bordeaux, merely stopping to make a
few enquiries at Agen, and to examine the body which was lying in the
inspector's room at the station.
M. Patrigent accompanied by Riche enquired at the office of the
Compagnie de Navigation. Unfortunately, no one answering either to the
print in the newspapers, or to the description of him given by Violette
had been discovered there, but all the police were informed, and were
on the alert to pounce upon him. Detectives were examining the faces
of every person seen on the landing-stages and wharfs, while others
inspected the visitors' books at the various hotels--but all to no
purpose.
For three days every available policeman and detective in Bordeaux was
hunting up and down the streets examining every hotel, and examining
every ship and steamer in the port, but no trace of Duval could be
found.
At length, about two hours before the _Divona_ was notified to sail the
chef de police received a lengthy telegram from Villebois. It read as
follows:--
"Last night Professor Delapine had a psychic vision; he saw Pierre
Duval in a room changing his clothes. He disguised himself as a
Gascony farmer. Was dressed in his Sunday coat with large buttons,
a slouch hat with broad brim, and leggings. He put on a long
yellow-brown beard, and the same coloured hair hanging down to his
shoulders, blue spectacles and a crooked stick. He left the inn
in a cab, with a large wooden box, and went on board steamer as a
third-class passenger. Act immediately on this information. Villebois."
M. Patrigent at once had copies of the telegram distributed to the
chief centres by boys on bicycles, and hastening with Riche on board
the _Divona_ they inspected the third-class passengers and rooms.
Suddenly Riche in his excitement called out.
"See, there he is," and he pointed with his finger.
"Where?" asked the chief of the police, trembling with excitement.
But Riche had spoken so loud that the person in question slipped away
and vanished among the crowd.
At that moment the ship's siren uttered a loud blast, while several
sailors prepared to unfasten the gangway.
"Keep an eye on him, doctor," said Patrigent, bounding on deck as the
visitors were leaving the ship.
At length the chef de police shrugged his shoulders in despair, and
stepped on the gangway to depart.
"You must have been mistaken, doctor, he cannot possibly be on board,
he must have eluded us and escaped by another route."
"Monsieur, for God's sake stay where you are, I am convinced he is
hiding on board."
Monsieur Patrigent hesitated for an instant, but observing Riche's look
of entreaty, turned back behind the sailors, while Riche rushed up the
gangway and joined him.
A few minutes later the steamer slipped her moorings and slowly steamed
down the Gironde.
All the officers were on the look-out for the missing man, and the ship
was searched from stem to stern.
At length they got information that a Gascon peasant had been seen
entering one of the third-class cabins. The chef de police and Riche
rushed to the cabin indicated and tried to open the door, but they
found it locked and bolted.
Riche stood by the door, while Monsieur Patrigent returned with a
couple of loaded revolvers and an axe.
Handing one of the pistols to Riche, he burst in the panels of the door
with three or four furious blows of his axe.
"At last we have got you, monsieur," said the police officer as he
pulled out of his pockets a pair of handcuffs, and struggled to get
through the broken door.
The peasant uttered a wild cry of mocking laughter.
"Ha, ha! I will defeat you yet," he shouted, "I shall never let you
take me alive," and taking out a small phial he drank its contents to
the last drop.
The chef de police and one of the sailors burst in and seized the man,
while Riche tore off his wig and beard. There stood Pierre with a wild
look in his eyes, but before they could pinion him, he cried out, "Tell
Professor Delapine the drug I swallowed was meant for him." He suddenly
became short of breath, and reeled like a drunken man, and with a last
shriek he burst from their grasp, and throwing up his hands, fell down
on the floor of the cabin foaming at the mouth.
The chef de police and Riche stooped down and raised him up, but it was
too late,--he was dead.
M. Patrigent had the body sewn up in a sack, and dropped it into the
pilot's boat at the mouth of the river, while he and Riche followed
immediately afterwards.
Some hours later they returned to Bordeaux where the body was
identified as that of Pierre Gaston Duval.
The day following it was interred in a nameless grave in the cemetery
at Bordeaux by permission of the authorities at M. Payot's special
request.