THE ESCAPE
I have a confused remembrance of Godfrey stooping for an instant
above the body, staring at it, and then, with a sharp cry, hurling
himself through that open doorway. A door slammed somewhere, there
was a sound of running feet, and before either Simmonds or myself
understood what was happening, Godfrey was back in the room, crossed
it at a bound, and dashed to the door opening into the hall, just as
it was slammed in his face.
I saw him tear desperately at the knob, then retreat two steps and
hurl himself against it. But it held firm, and from the hall outside
came a burst of mocking laughter that fairly froze my blood.
"Come here, you fools!" cried Godfrey between clenched teeth. "Don't
you see he's getting away!"
Simmonds was quicker than I, and together they threw themselves at
the door. It cracked ominously, but still held; again they tried, and
this time it split from top to bottom. Godfrey kicked the pieces to
either side and slipped between them, Simmonds after him.
Then, in a sort of trance, I staggered to it, and after a moment's
aimless fumbling, was out in the hall again. I reached the stairhead
in time to see Godfrey try the front door, and then turn along the
lower hall leading to the back of the house. An instant later, a
chorus of frenzied women's shrieks made my hair stand on end.
How I got down the stair I do not know; but I, too, turned back along
the lower hall, expecting any instant to come upon I knew not what
horror; I reached an open door, passed through it, and found myself
in the laundry, in the midst of a group of excited and indignant
women, who greeted my appearance with a fresh series of screams.
Unable to go farther, I sat limply down upon a box and looked at
them.
I dare say the figure I made was ridiculous enough, for the screams
gave place to subdued giggles; but I was far from thinking of my
appearance, or of caring what impression I produced. And I was still
sitting there when Godfrey came back, breathing heavily, chagrin and
anger in his eyes. The employes of the laundry, conscious that
something extraordinary was occurring, crowded about him, but he
elbowed his way through them to the desk where the manager sat.
"A crime has been committed upstairs," he said. "This gentleman with
me is Mr. Simmonds, of the detective bureau," and at the words
Simmonds showed his shield. "We shall have to notify headquarters,"
Godfrey went on, "and I would advise that you keep your girls at
their work. I don't suppose you want to be mixed up in it."
"Sure not," agreed the manager promptly, and while Simmonds went to
the 'phone and called up police headquarters, the manager dismounted
from his throne, went down among the girls, and had them back at
their work in short order.
Godfrey came over to me and laid his hand on my shoulder.
"Why, Lester," he said, "you look as though you were at your last
gasp."
"I am," I said. "I'm going to have nervous prostration if this thing
keeps up. You're not looking particularly happy yourself."
"I'm not happy. I've let that fellow kill a man right under my nose
--literally, under my nose!--and then get away!"
"Kill a man?" I repeated. "Do you mean...."
"Go upstairs and look at the right hand of the man lying there," said
Godfrey, curtly, "and you'll see what I mean!"
I sat staring at him, unable to believe that I had heard aright;
unable to believe that Godfrey had really uttered those words ... the
right hand of the man lying there ... that could mean only one
thing....
Simmonds joined us with a twisted smile on his lips, and I saw that
even he was considerably shaken.
"I got Grady," he said, "and told him what had happened. He says he's
too busy to come up, and that I'm to take charge of things."
Godfrey laughed a little mocking laugh.
"Grady foresees his Waterloo!" he said. "Well, it's not far distant.
But I'm glad for your sake, Simmonds--you're going to get some glory
out of this thing, yet!"
"I hope so," and Simmonds's eyes gleamed an instant. "The ambulance
will be around at once," he added. "We'd better get our shoes on, and
go back upstairs, and see if anything can be done for that fellow."
"There can't anything be done for him," said Godfrey wearily; "but
we'd better have a look at him, I guess," and he led the way out into
the hall.
Not until Simmonds spoke did I remember that I was shoeless. Now I
sat down beside Godfrey, got fumblingly into my shoes again, and then
followed him and Simmonds slowly up the stair.
I thought I knew what was passing in Godfrey's mind: he was blaming
himself for this latest tragedy; he was telling himself that he
should have foreseen and prevented it; he always blamed himself in
that way when things went wrong--and then, to have the murderer slip
through his very fingers! I could guess what a mighty shock that had
been to his self-confidence!
The latest victim was lying where he had fallen, just inside the
doorway leading into the inner room. Simmonds stepped to the window,
threw open the shutters, and let a flood of afternoon sunshine into
the room. Then he knelt beside the body, and held up the limp right
hand for us to see.
Just above the knuckles were two tiny incisions, with a drop or two
of blood oozing away from them, and the flesh about them swollen and
discoloured.
"I knew what it was the instant he yelled '_La mort!_'" said Godfrey
quietly. "And _he_ knew what it was the instant he felt the stroke.
It is evident enough that he had seen it used before, or heard of it,
and knew that it meant instant death."
I sat down, staring at the dead man, and tried to collect my senses.
So this fiendish criminal, who slew with poison, had been lurking in
Vantine's house, and had struck down first Drouet and then the master
of the house himself! But why--why! It was incredible, astounding, my
brain reeled at the thought. And yet it must be true!
I looked again at the third victim, and saw a man roughly dressed,
with bushy black hair and tangled beard; a very giant of a man, whose
physical strength must have been enormous--and yet it had availed him
nothing against that tiny pin-prick on the hand!
And then a sudden thought brought me bolt upright.
"But Armand!" I cried. "Where is Armand?"
Godfrey looked at me with a half-pitying smile.
"What, Lester!" he said, "don't you understand, even yet? It was your
fascinating M. Armand who did that," and he pointed to the dead man.
I felt as though I had been struck a heavy blow upon the head; black
circles whirled before my eyes....
"Go over to the window," said Godfrey, peremptorily, "and get some
fresh air."
Mechanically I obeyed, and stood clinging to the window-sill, gazing
down at the busy street, where the tide of humanity was flowing up
and down, all unconscious of the tragedy which had been enacted so
close at hand. And, at last, the calmness of all these people, the
sight of the world going quietly on as usual, restored me a portion
of my self-control. But even yet I did not understand.
"Was it Armand," I asked, turning back into the room, "who lay there
in the corner?"
"Certainly it was," Godfrey answered. "Who else could it be?"
"Godfrey!" I cried, remembering suddenly. "Did you see his eyes as he
lay there watching the man at the cabinet?"
"Yes; I saw them."
"They were the same eyes...."
"The same eyes."
"And the laugh--did you hear that laugh?"
"Certainly I heard it."
"I heard it once before," I said, "and you thought it was a case of
nerves!"
I fell silent a moment, shivering a little at the remembrance.
"But why did Armand lie there so quietly?" I asked, at last. "Was he
injured?"
Godfrey made a little gesture toward the corner.
"Go see for yourself," he said.
Something lay along the wall, on the spot where I had seen that
figure, and as I bent over it, I saw that it was a large net, finely
meshed but very strong.
"That was dropped over Armand's head as he came up the stairs," said
Godfrey, "or flung over him as he came into the room. Then the dead
man yonder jumped upon him and trussed him up with those ropes."
Pushing the net aside, I saw upon the floor a little pile of severed
cords.
"Yes," I agreed; "he would be able to do that. Have you noticed his
size, Godfrey? He was almost a giant!"
"He couldn't have done it if Armand hadn't been willing that he
should," retorted Godfrey, curtly. "You see he had no difficulty in
getting away," and he held up the net and pointed to the great rents
in it. "He cut his way out while he was lying there--I ought to have
known--I ought to have known he wasn't bound--that he was only
waiting--but it was all so sudden...."
He threw the net down upon the floor with a gesture of disgust and
despair. Then he stopped in front of the Boule cabinet and looked
down at it musingly; and, after a moment, his face brightened.
The burlap wrappings had been almost wholly torn away, and the
cabinet stood, more insolently beautiful than ever, it seemed to me,
under the rays of the sun, which sparkled and glittered and shimmered
as they fell upon it.
"But we'll get him, Simmonds," said Godfrey, and his lips broke into
a smile. "In fact, we've got him now. We have only to wait, and he'll
walk into our arms. Simmonds, I want you to lock this cabinet up in
the strongest cell around at your station; and carry the key
yourself."
"Lock it up?" stammered Simmonds, staring at him.
"Yes," said Godfrey, "lock it up. That's our one salvation!" His face
was glowing; he was quite himself again, alert, confident of victory.
"You're in charge of this case, aren't you? Well, lock it up, and
give your reasons to nobody."
"That'll be easy," laughed Simmonds. "I haven't got any reasons."
"Oh, yes, you have," and Godfrey bent upon him a gaze that was
positively hypnotic. "You will do it because I want you to, and
because I tell you that, sooner or later, if you keep this cabinet
safe where no one can get at it, the man we want will walk into our
hands. And I'll tell you more than that, Simmonds; if we do get him,
I'll have the biggest story I ever had, and you will be world-famous.
France will make you a chevalier of the Legion of Honour, Simmonds,
mark my words. Don't you think the ribbon would look well in your
button-hole?"
Simmonds was staring at the speaker as though he thought he had
suddenly gone mad. Indeed, the thought flashed through my own brain
that the disappointment, the chagrin of failure, had been too much
for Godfrey.
He burst into laughter as he saw our faces.
"No, I'm not mad," he said, more soberly; "and I'm not joking. I'm
speaking in deadly earnest, Simmonds, when I say that this fellow is
the biggest catch we could make. He's the greatest criminal of modern
times--I repeat it, Lester, this time without qualification. And now,
perhaps, you'll agree with me."
And with Armand, so finished, so self-poised, so distinguished, in my
mind, and the body of his latest victim before my eyes, I nodded
gloomily.
"But who is he?" I asked. "Do you know who he is, Godfrey?"
"There's the ambulance," broke in Simmonds, as a knock came at the
street door, and he hurried down to open it.
"Come on, Lester," and Godfrey hooked his arm through mine. "There's
nothing more we can do here. We'll go down the back way. I've had
enough excitement for the time being--haven't you?"
"I certainly have," I agreed, and he led the way back along the hall
to another stair, down it and so out through the laundry.
"But, Godfrey, who is this man?" I repeated. "Why did he kill that
poor fellow up there? Why did he kill Drouet and Vantine? How did he
get into the Vantine house? What is it all about?"
"Ah!" he said, looking at me with a smile. "That is the important
question--what is it all about! But we can't discuss it here in the
street. Besides, I want to think it over, Lester; and I want you to
think it over. If I can, I'll drop in to-night to see you, and we can
thresh it out! Will that suit you?"
"Yes," I said; "and for heaven's sake, don't fail to come!"