"In that case ... in that case ... since you confess ... since--"
He put his hand on the latch of the window, ready to open it. A whistle,
and the detectives would burst in and all would be over.
"Shall I have your inspectors called, Monsieur le Préfet?" asked Don
Luis.
M. Desmalions did not reply. He let go the window latch and started
walking about the room again. And, suddenly, while Perenna was wondering
why he still hesitated, for the second time the Prefect planted himself
in front of him, and said:
"And suppose I looked upon the incident of the walking-stick as not
having occurred, or, rather, as an incident which, while doubtless
proving the treachery of your servants, is not able to compromise
yourself? Suppose I took only the services which you have already
rendered us into consideration? In a word, suppose I left you free?"
Perenna could not help smiling. Notwithstanding the affair of the
walking-stick and though appearances were all against him, at the moment
when everything seemed to be going wrong, things were taking the course
which he had prophesied from the start, and which he had mentioned to
Mazeroux during the inquiry on the Boulevard Suchet. They wanted him.
"Free?" he asked. "No more supervision? Nobody shadowing my movements?"
"Nobody."
"And what if the press campaign around my name continues, if the papers
succeed, by means of certain pieces of tittle-tattle, of certain
coincidences, in creating a public outcry, if they call for measures
against me?"
"Those measures shall not be taken."
"Then I have nothing to fear?"
"Nothing."
"Will M. Weber abandon his prejudices against me?"
"At any rate, he will act as though he did, won't you, Weber?"
The deputy chief uttered a few grunts which might be taken as an
expression of assent; and Don Luis at once exclaimed:
"In that case, Monsieur le Préfet, I am sure of gaining the victory and
of gaining it in accordance with the wishes and requirements of the
authorities."
And so, by a sudden change in the situation, after a series of
exceptional circumstances, the police themselves, bowing before Don Luis
Perenna's superior qualities of mind, acknowledging all that he had
already done and foreseeing all that he would be able to do, decided to
back him up, begging for his assistance, and offering him, so to speak,
the command of affairs.
It was a flattering compliment. Was it addressed only to Don Luis
Perenna? And had Lupin, the terrible, undaunted Lupin, no right to claim
his share? Was it possible to believe that M. Desmalions, in his heart of
hearts, did not admit the identity of the two persons?
Nothing in the Prefect's attitude gave any clue to his secret thoughts.
He was suggesting to Don Luis Perenna one of those compacts which the
police are often obliged to conclude in order to gain their ends. The
compact was concluded, and no more was said upon the subject.
"Do you want any particulars of me?" asked the Prefect of Police.
"Yes, Monsieur le Préfet. The papers spoke of a notebook found in poor
Inspector Vérot's pocket. Did the notebook contain a clue of any kind?"
"No. Personal notes, lists of disbursements, that's all. Wait, I was
forgetting, there was a photograph of a woman, about which I have not yet
been able to obtain the least information. Besides, I don't suppose that
it bears upon the case and I have not sent it to the newspapers. Look,
here it is."
Perenna took the photograph which the Prefect handed him and gave a start
that did not escape M. Desmalions's eye.
"Do you know the lady?"
"No. No, Monsieur le Préfet. I thought I did; but no, there's merely a
resemblance--a family likeness, which I will verify if you can leave the
photograph with me till this evening."
"Till this evening, yes. When you have done with it, give it back to
Sergeant Mazeroux, whom I will order to work in concert with you in
everything that relates to the Mornington case."
The interview was now over. The Prefect went away. Don Luis saw him to
the door. As M. Desmalions was about to go down the steps, he turned and
said simply:
"You saved my life this morning. But for you, that scoundrel Sauverand--"
"Oh, Monsieur le Préfet!" said Don Luis, modestly protesting.
"Yes, I know, you are in the habit of doing that sort of thing. All the
same, you must accept my thanks."
And the Prefect of Police made a bow such as he would really have made to
Don Luis Perenna, the Spanish noble, the hero of the Foreign Legion. As
for Weber, he put his two hands in his pockets, walked past with the look
of a muzzled mastiff, and gave his enemy a glance of fierce hatred.
"By Jupiter!" thought Don Luis. "There's a fellow who won't miss me when
he gets the chance to shoot!"
Looking through a window, he saw M. Desmalions's motor car drive off. The
detectives fell in behind the deputy chief and left the Place du
Palais-Bourbon. The siege was raised.
"And now to work!" said Don Luis. "My hands are free, and we shall make
things hum."
He called the butler.
"Serve lunch; and ask Mlle. Levasseur to come and speak to me
immediately after."
He went to the dining-room and sat down, placing on the table the
photograph which M. Desmalions had left behind; and, bending over it, he
examined it attentively. It was a little faded, a little worn, as
photographs have a tendency to become when they lie about in pocket-books
or among papers; but the picture was quite clear. It was the radiant
picture of a young woman in evening dress, with bare arms and shoulders,
with flowers and leaves in her hair and a smile upon her face.
"Mlle. Levasseur, Mlle. Levasseur," he said. "Is it possible!"
In a corner was a half-obliterated and hardly visible signature. He made
out, "Florence," the girl's name, no doubt. And he repeated:
"Mlle. Levasseur, Florence Levasseur. How did her photograph come to be
in Inspector Vérot's pocket-book? And what is the connection between
this adventure and the reader of the Hungarian count from whom I took
over the house?"
He remembered the incident of the iron curtain. He remembered the article
in the _Echo de France_, an article aimed against him, of which he had
found the rough draft in his own courtyard. And, above all, he thought of
the problem of that broken walking-stick conveyed into his study.
And, while his mind was striving to read these events clearly, while he
tried to settle the part played by Mlle. Levasseur, his eyes remained
fixed upon the photograph and he gazed absent-mindedly at the pretty
lines of the mouth, the charming smile, the graceful curve of the neck,
the admirable sweep of the shoulders.
The door opened suddenly and Mlle. Levasseur burst into the room.
Perenna, who had dismissed the butler, was raising to his lips a glass of
water which he had just filled for himself. She sprang forward, seized
his arm, snatched the glass from him and flung it on the carpet, where it
smashed to pieces.
"Have you drunk any of it? Have you drunk any of it?" she gasped, in a
choking voice.
He replied:
"No, not yet. Why?"
She stammered:
"The water in that bottle ... the water in that bottle--"
"Well?"
"It's poisoned!"
He leapt from his chair and, in his turn, gripped her arm fiercely:
"What's that? Poisoned! Are you certain? Speak!"
In spite of his usual self-control, he was this time thoroughly alarmed.
Knowing the terrible effects of the poison employed by the miscreants
whom he was attacking, recalling the corpse of Inspector Vérot, the
corpses of Hippolyte Fauville and his son, he knew that, trained though
he was to resist comparatively large doses of poison, he could not have
escaped the deadly action of this. It was a poison that did not forgive,
that killed, surely and fatally.
The girl was silent. He raised his voice in command:
"Answer me! Are you certain?"
"No ... it was an idea that entered my head--a presentiment ... certain
coincidences--"
It was as though she regretted her words and now tried to withdraw them.
"Come, come," he cried, "I want to know the truth: You're not certain
that the water in this bottle is poisoned?"
"No ... it's possible--"
"Still, just now--"
"I thought so. But no ... no!"
"It's easy to make sure," said Perenna, putting out his hand for the
water bottle.
She was quicker than he, seized it and, with one blow, broke it against
the table.
"What are you doing?" he said angrily.
"I made a mistake. And so there is no need to attach any importance--"
Don Luis hurriedly left the dining-room. By his orders, the water which
he drank was drawn from a filter that stood in a pantry at the end of the
passage leading from the dining-room to the kitchens and beyond. He ran
to it and took from a shelf a bowl which he filled with water from the
filter. Then, continuing to follow the passage, which at this spot
branched off toward the yard, he called Mirza, the puppy, who was playing
by the stables.
"Here," he said, putting the bowl in front of her.
The puppy began to drink. But she stopped almost at once and stood
motionless, with her paws tense and stiff. A shiver passed through the
little body. The dog gave a hoarse groan, spun round two or three
times, and fell.
"She's dead," he said, after touching the animal.
Mlle. Levasseur had joined him. He turned to her and rapped out:
"You were right about the poison--and you knew it. How did you know it?"
All out of breath, she checked the beating of her heart and answered:
"I saw the other puppy drinking in the pantry. She's dead. I told the
coachman and the chauffeur. They're over there, in the stable. And I ran
to warn you."
"In that case, there was no doubt about it. Why did you say that you were
not certain that the water was poisoned, when--"
The chauffeur and the coachman were coming out of the stables. Leading
the girl away, Perenna said:
"We must talk about this. We'll go to your rooms."
They went back to the bend in the passage. Near the pantry where the
filter was, another passage ran, ending in a flight of three steps, with
a door at the top of the steps. Perenna opened this door. It was the
entrance to the rooms occupied by Mlle. Levasseur. They went into a
sitting-room.
Don Luis closed the entrance door and the door of the sitting-room.
"And now," he said, in a resolute tone, "you and I will have an
explanation."