his desk and rising from his chair.
"It's the man," thought Hortense.
He had in fact an uncommonly pasty complexion. A little forked beard,
flecked with grey, lengthened his face, which was surmounted by a bald,
pallid forehead, beneath which gleamed a pair of small, prominent,
restless, shifty eyes.
Hortense, who had not removed her veil or cloak, replied:
"I want a clasp."
"They're in this show-case," he said, leading the way to the connecting
room.
Hortense glanced over the glass case and said:
"No, no, ... I don't see what I'm looking for. I don't want just any clasp,
but a clasp which I lost out of a jewel-case some years ago and which I
have to look for here."
She was astounded to see the commotion displayed on his features. His eyes
became haggard.
"Here?... I don't think you are in the least likely.... What sort of clasp
is it?..."
"A cornelian, mounted in gold filigree ... of the 1830 period."
"I don't understand," he stammered. "Why do you come to me?"
She now removed her veil and laid aside her cloak.
He stepped back, as though terrified by the sight of her, and whispered:
"The blue gown!... The toque!... And--can I believe my eyes?--the jet
necklace!..."
It was perhaps the whip-lash formed of three rushes that excited him most
violently. He pointed his finger at it, began to stagger where he stood and
ended by beating the air with his arms, like a drowning man, and fainting
away in a chair.
Hortense did not move.
"Whatever farce he may play," Renine had written, "have the courage to
remain impassive."
Perhaps he was not playing a farce. Nevertheless she forced herself to be
calm and indifferent.
This lasted for a minute or two, after which M. Pancaldi recovered from
his swoon, wiped away the perspiration streaming down his forehead and,
striving to control himself, resumed, in a trembling voice:
"Why do you apply to me?"
"Because the clasp is in your possession."
"Who told you that?" he said, without denying the accusation. "How do you
know?"
"I know because it is so. Nobody has told me anything. I came here positive
that I should find my clasp and with the immovable determination to take it
away with me."
"But do you know me? Do you know my name?"
"I don't know you. I did not know your name before I read it over your
shop. To me you are simply the man who is going to give me back what
belongs to me."
He was greatly agitated. He kept on walking to and fro in a small empty
space surrounded by a circle of piled-up furniture, at which he hit out
idiotically, at the risk of bringing it down.
Hortense felt that she had the whip hand of him; and, profiting by his
confusion, she said, suddenly, in a commanding and threatening tone:
"Where is the thing? You must give it back to me. I insist upon it."
Pancaldi gave way to a moment of despair. He folded his hands and mumbled a
few words of entreaty. Then, defeated and suddenly resigned, he said, more
distinctly:
"You insist?..."
"I do. You must give it to me."
"Yes, yes, I must ... I agree."
"Speak!" she ordered, more harshly still.
"Speak, no, but write: I will write my secret.... And that will be the end
of me."
He turned to his desk and feverishly wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper,
which he put into an envelope and sealed it:
"See," he said, "here's my secret.... It was my whole life...."
And, so saying, he suddenly pressed against his temple a revolver which he
had produced from under a pile of papers and fired.
With a quick movement, Hortense struck up his arm. The bullet struck the
mirror of a cheval-glass. But Pancaldi collapsed and began to groan, as
though he were wounded.
Hortense made a great effort not to lose her composure:
"Renine warned me," she reflected. "The man's a play-actor. He has kept the
envelope. He has kept his revolver, I won't be taken in by him."
Nevertheless, she realized that, despite his apparent calmness, the attempt
at suicide and the revolver-shot had completely unnerved her. All her
energies were dispersed, like the sticks of a bundle whose string has been
cut; and she had a painful impression that the man, who was grovelling at
her feet, was in reality slowly getting the better of her.
She sat down, exhausted. As Renine had foretold, the duel had not lasted
longer than a few minutes but it was she who had succumbed, thanks to her
feminine nerves and at the very moment when she felt entitled to believe
that she had won.
The man Pancaldi was fully aware of this; and, without troubling to invent
a transition, he ceased his jeremiads, leapt to his feet, cut a sort of
agile caper before Hortense' eyes and cried, in a jeering tone:
"Now we are going to have a little chat; but it would be a nuisance to be
at the mercy of the first passing customer, wouldn't it?"
He ran to the street-door, opened it and pulled down the iron shutter which
closed the shop. Then, still hopping and skipping, he came back to
Hortense:
"Oof! I really thought I was done for! One more effort, madam, and you
would have pulled it off. But then I'm such a simple chap! It seemed to me
that you had come from the back of beyond, as an emissary of Providence,
to call me to account; and, like a fool, I was about to give the thing
back.... Ah, Mlle. Hortense--let me call you so: I used to know you by that
name--Mlle. Hortense, what you lack, to use a vulgar expression, is gut."
He sat down beside her and, with a malicious look, said, savagely:
"The time has come to speak out. Who contrived this business? Not you; eh?
It's not in your style. Then who?... I have always been honest in my life,
scrupulously honest ... except once ... in the matter of that clasp. And,
whereas I thought the story was buried and forgotten, here it is suddenly
raked up again. Why? That's what I want to know."
Hortense was no longer even attempting to fight. He was bringing to bear
upon her all his virile strength, all his spite, all his fears, all the
threats expressed in his furious gestures and on his features, which were
both ridiculous and evil:
"Speak, I want to know. If I have a secret foe, let me defend myself
against him! Who is he? Who sent you here? Who urged you to take action? Is
it a rival incensed by my good luck, who wants in his turn to benefit by
the clasp? Speak, can't you, damn it all ... or, I swear by Heaven, I'll
make you!..."
She had an idea that he was reaching out for his revolver and stepped back,
holding her arms before her, in the hope of escaping.
They thus struggled against each other; and Hortense, who was becoming
more and more frightened, not so much of the attack as of her assailant's
distorted face, was beginning to scream, when Pancaldi suddenly stood
motionless, with his arms before him, his fingers outstretched and his eyes
staring above Hortense's head:
"Who's there? How did you get in?" he asked, in a stifled voice.
Hortense did not even need to turn round to feel assured that Renine was
coming to her assistance and that it was his inexplicable appearance that
was causing the dealer such dismay. As a matter of fact, a slender figure
stole through a heap of easy chairs and sofas: and Renine came forward with
a tranquil step.
"Who are you?" repeated Pancaldi. "Where do you come from?"
"From up there," he said, very amiably, pointing to the ceiling.
"From up there?"
"Yes, from the first floor. I have been the tenant of the floor above this
for the past three months. I heard a noise just now. Some one was calling
out for help. So I came down."
"But how did you get in here?"
"By the staircase."
"What staircase?"
"The iron staircase, at the end of the shop. The man who owned it before
you had a flat on my floor and used to go up and down by that hidden
staircase. You had the door shut off. I opened it."
"But by what right, sir? It amounts to breaking in."
"Breaking in is allowed, when there's a fellow-creature to be rescued."
"Once more, who are you?"
"Prince Renine ... and a friend of this lady's," said Renine, bending over
Hortense and kissing her hand.
Pancaldi seemed to be choking, and mumbled:
"Oh, I understand!... You instigated the plot ... it was you who sent the
lady...."
"It was, M. Pancaldi, it was!"
"And what are your intentions?"
"My intentions are irreproachable. No violence. Simply a little interview.
When that is over, you will hand over what I in my turn have come to
fetch."
"What?"
"The clasp."
"That, never!" shouted the dealer.
"Don't say no. It's a foregone conclusion."
"No power on earth, sir, can compel me to do such a thing!"
"Shall we send for your wife? Madame Pancaldi will perhaps realize the
position better than you do."
The idea of no longer being alone with this unexpected adversary seemed to
appeal to Pancaldi. There was a bell on the table beside him. He struck it
three times.
"Capital!" exclaimed Renine "You see, my dear, M. Pancaldi is becoming
quite amiable. Not a trace left of the devil broken loose who was going for
you just now. No, M. Pancaldi only has to find himself dealing with a man
to recover his qualities of courtesy and kindness. A perfect sheep! Which
does not mean that things will go quite of themselves. Far from it! There's
no more obstinate animal than a sheep...."
Right at the end of the shop, between the dealer's writing-desk and the
winding staircase, a curtain was raised, admitting a woman who was holding
a door open. She might have been thirty years of age. Very simply dressed,
she looked, with the apron on her, more like a cook than like the mistress
of a household. But she had an attractive face and a pleasing figure.
Hortense, who had followed Renine, was surprised to recognize her as a maid
whom she had had in her service when a girl:
"What! Is that you, Lucienne? Are you Madame Pancaldi?"
The newcomer looked at her, recognized her also and seemed embarrassed.
Renine said to her:
"Your husband and I need your assistance, Madame Pancaldi, to settle a
rather complicated matter a matter in which you played an important
part...."
She came forward without a word, obviously ill at ease, asking her husband,
who did not take his eyes off her:
"What is it?... What do they want with me?... What is he referring to?"
"It's about the clasp!" Pancaldi whispered, under his breath.
These few words were enough to make Madame Pancaldi realize to the full the
seriousness of her position. And she did not try to keep her countenance or
to retort with futile protests. She sank into a chair, sighing:
"Oh, that's it!... I understand.... Mlle. Hortense has found the track....
Oh, it's all up with us!"
There was a moment's respite. The struggle between the adversaries had
hardly begun, before the husband and wife adopted the attitude of defeated
persons whose only hope lay in the victor's clemency. Staring motionless
before her, Madame Pancaldi began to cry. Renine bent over her and said:
"Do you mind if we go over the case from the beginning? We shall then
see things more clearly; and I am sure that our interview will lead to a
perfectly natural solution.... This is how things happened: nine years ago,
when you were lady's maid to Mlle. Hortense in the country, you made the
acquaintance of M. Pancaldi, who soon became your lover. You were both of
you Corsicans, in other words, you came from a country where superstitions
are very strong and where questions of good and bad luck, the evil eye, and
spells and charms exert a profound influence over the lives of one and all.
Now it was said that your young mistress' clasp had always brought luck to
its owners. That was why, in a weak moment prompted by M. Pancaldi, you
stole the clasp. Six months afterwards, you became Madame Pancaldi.... That
is your whole story, is it not, told in a few sentences? The whole story
of two people who would have remained honest members of society, if they
had been able to resist that casual temptation?... I need not tell you how
you both succeeded in life and how, possessing the talisman, believing
its powers and trusting in yourselves, you rose to the first rank of
antiquarians. To-day, well-off, owning this shop, "The Mercury," you
attribute the success of your undertakings to that clasp. To lose it would
to your eyes spell bankruptcy and poverty. Your whole life has been centred
upon it. It is your fetish. It is the little household god who watches over
you and guides your steps. It is there, somewhere, hidden in this jungle;
and no one of course would ever have suspected anything--for I repeat, you
are decent people, but for this one lapse--if an accident had not led me to
look into your affairs."
Renine paused and continued:
"That was two months ago, two months of minute investigations, which
presented no difficulty to me, because, having discovered your trail, I
hired the flat overhead and was able to use that staircase ... but, all
the same, two months wasted to a certain extent because I have not yet
succeeded. And Heaven knows how I have ransacked this shop of yours! There
is not a piece of furniture that I have left unsearched, not a plank in
the floor that I have not inspected. All to no purpose. Yes, there was one
thing, an incidental discovery. In a secret recess in your writing-table,
Pancaldi, I turned up a little account-book in which you have set down your
remorse, your uneasiness, your fear of punishment and your dread of God's
wrath.... It was highly imprudent of you, Pancaldi! People don't write
such confessions! And, above all, they don't leave them lying about! Be
this as it may, I read them and I noted one passage, which struck me
as particularly important and was of use to me in preparing my plan of
campaign: 'Should she come to me, the woman whom I robbed, should she come
to me as I saw her in her garden, while Lucienne was taking the clasp;
should she appear to me wearing the blue gown and the toque of red leaves,
with the jet necklace and the whip of three plaited rushes which she was
carrying that day; should she appear to me thus and say: "I have come to
claim my property," then I shall understand that her conduct is inspired
from on high and that I must obey the decree of Providence.' That is what
is written in your book, Pancaldi, and it explains the conduct of the lady
whom you call Mlle. Hortense. Acting on my instructions and in accordance
with the setting thought out by yourself, she came to you, from the back of
beyond, to use your own expression. A little more self-possession on her
part; and you know that she would have won the day. Unfortunately, you are
a wonderful actor; your sham suicide put her out; and you understood that
this was not a decree of Providence, but simply an offensive on the part of
your former victim. I had no choice, therefore, but to intervene. Here I
am.... And now let's finish the business. Pancaldi, that clasp!"
"No," said the dealer, who seemed to recover all his energy at the very
thought of restoring the clasp.
"And you, Madame Pancaldi."
"I don't know where it is," the wife declared.
"Very well. Then let us come to deeds. Madame Pancaldi, you have a son of
seven whom you love with all your heart. This is Thursday and, as on every
Thursday, your little boy is to come home alone from his aunt's. Two of my
friends are posted on the road by which he returns and, in the absence of
instructions to the contrary, will kidnap him as he passes."
Madame Pancaldi lost her head at once:
"My son! Oh, please, please ... not that!... I swear that I know nothing.
My husband would never consent to confide in me."
Renine continued:
"Next point. This evening, I shall lodge an information with the public
prosecutor. Evidence: the confessions in the account-book. Consequences:
action by the police, search of the premises and the rest."
Pancaldi was silent. The others had a feeling that all these threats did
not affect him and that, protected by his fetish, he believed himself
to be invulnerable. But his wife fell on her knees at Renine's feet and
stammered:
"No, no ... I entreat you!... It would mean going to prison and I don't
want to go!... And then my son!... Oh, I entreat you!..."
Hortense, seized with compassion, took Renine to one side:
"Poor woman! Let me intercede for her."
"Set your mind at rest," he said. "Nothing is going to happen to her son."
"But your two friends?"
"Sheer bluff."
"Your application to the public prosecutor?"
"A mere threat."
"Then what are you trying to do?"
"To frighten them out of their wits, in the hope of making them drop a
remark, a word, which will tell us what we want to know. We've tried every
other means. This is the last; and it is a method which, I find, nearly
always succeeds. Remember our adventures."
"But if the word which you expect to hear is not spoken?"
"It must be spoken," said Renine, in a low voice. "We must finish the
matter. The hour is at hand."
His eyes met hers; and she blushed crimson at the thought that the hour to
which he was alluding was the eighth and that he had no other object than
to finish the matter before that eighth hour struck.
"So you see, on the one hand, what you are risking," he said to the
Pancaldi pair. "The disappearance of your child ... and prison: prison for
certain, since there is the book with its confessions. And now, on the
other hand, here's my offer: twenty thousand francs if you hand over the
clasp immediately, this minute. Remember, it isn't worth three louis."
No reply. Madame Pancaldi was crying.
Renine resumed, pausing between each proposal:
"I'll double my offer.... I'll treble it.... Hang it all, Pancaldi, you're
unreasonable!... I suppose you want me to make it a round sum? All right: a
hundred thousand francs."
He held out his hand as if there was no doubt that they would give him the
clasp.
Madame Pancaldi was the first to yield and did so with a sudden outburst of
rage against her husband:
"Well, confess, can't you?... Speak up!... Where have you hidden it?...
Look here, you aren't going to be obstinate, what? If you are, it means
ruin ... and poverty.... And then there's our boy!... Speak out, do!"
Hortense whispered:
"Renine, this is madness; the clasp has no value...."
"Never fear," said Renine, "he's not going to accept.... But look at
him.... How excited he is! Exactly what I wanted.... Ah, this, you know,
is really exciting!... To make people lose their heads! To rob them of all
control over what they are thinking and saying!... And, in the midst of
this confusion, in the storm that tosses them to and fro, to catch sight of
the tiny spark which will flash forth somewhere or other!... Look at him!
Look at the fellow! A hundred thousand francs for a valueless pebble ... if
not, prison: it's enough to turn any man's head!"
Pancaldi, in fact, was grey in the face; his lips were trembling and a
drop of saliva was trickling from their corners. It was easy to guess the
seething turmoil of his whole being, shaken by conflicting emotions, by the
clash between greed and fear. Suddenly he burst out; and it was obvious
that his words were pouring forth at random, without his knowing in the
least what he was saying:
"A hundred thousand francs! Two hundred thousand! Five hundred thousand! A
million! A two fig for your millions! What's the use of millions? One loses
them. They disappear.... They go.... There's only one thing that counts:
luck. It's on your side or else against you. And luck has been on my side
these last nine years. It has never betrayed me; and you expect me to
betray it? Why? Out of fear? Prison? My son? Bosh!... No harm will come to
me so long as I compel luck to work on my behalf. It's my servant, it's my
friend. It clings to the clasp. How? How can I tell? It's the cornelian,
no doubt.... There are magic stones, which hold happiness, as others hold
fire, or sulphur, or gold...."
Renine kept his eyes fixed upon him, watching for the least word, the least
modulation of the voice. The curiosity-dealer was now laughing, with a
nervous laugh, while resuming the self-control of a man who feels sure of
himself: and he walked up to Renine with jerky movements that revealed an
increasing resolution:
"Millions? My dear sir, I wouldn't have them as a gift. The little bit of
stone which I possess is worth much more than that. And the proof of it
lies in all the pains which you are at to take it from me. Aha! Months
devoted to looking for it, as you yourself confess! Months in which you
turned everything topsy-turvy, while I, who suspected nothing, did not even
defend myself! Why should I? The little thing defended itself all alone....
It does not want to be discovered and it sha'n't be.... It likes being
here.... It presides over a good, honest business that satisfies it....
Pancaldi's luck! Why, it's known to all the neighbourhood, among all the
dealers! I proclaim it from the house-tops: 'I'm a lucky man!' I even made
so bold as to take the god of luck, Mercury, as my patron! He too protects
me. See, I've got Mercuries all over my shop! Look up there, on that shelf,
a whole row of statuettes, like the one over the front-door, proofs signed
by a great sculptor who went smash and sold them to me.... Would you like
one, my dear sir? It will bring you luck too. Take your pick! A present
from Pancaldi, to make up to you for your defeat! Does that suit you?"
He put a stool against the wall, under the shelf, took down a statuette and
plumped it into Renine's arms. And, laughing heartily, growing more and
more excited as his enemy seemed to yield ground and to fall back before
his spirited attack, he explained:
"Well done! He accepts! And the fact that he accepts shows that we are all
agreed! Madame Pancaldi, don't distress yourself. Your son's coming back
and nobody's going to prison! Good-bye, Mlle. Hortense! Good-day, sir!
Hope to see you again! If you want to speak to me at any time, just give
three thumps on the ceiling. Good-bye ... don't forget your present ...
and may Mercury be kind to you! Good-bye, my dear Prince! Good-bye, Mlle.
Hortense!..."
He hustled them to the iron staircase, gripped each of them by the arm in
turn and pushed them up to the little door hidden at the top of the stairs.
And the strange thing was that Renine made no protest. He did not attempt
to resist. He allowed himself to be led along like a naughty child that is
taken up to bed.
Less than five minutes had elapsed between the moment when he made his
offer to Pancaldi and the moment when Pancaldi turned him out of the shop
with a statuette in his arms.
* * * * *
The dining-room and drawing-room of the flat which Renine had taken on the
first floor looked out upon the street. The table in the dining-room was
laid for two.
"Forgive me, won't you?" said Renine, as he opened the door of the
drawing-room for Hortense. "I thought that, whatever happened, I should
most likely see you this evening and that we might as well dine together.
Don't refuse me this kindness, which will be the last favour granted in our
last adventure."
Hortense did not refuse him. The manner in which the battle had ended was
so different from everything that she had seen hitherto that she felt
disconcerted. At any rate, why should she refuse, seeing that the terms of
the contract had not been fulfilled?
Renine left the room to give an order to his manservant. Two minutes later,
he came back for Hortense. It was then a little past seven.
There were flowers on the table; and the statue of Mercury, Pancaldi's
present, stood overtopping them.
"May the god of luck preside over our repast," said Renine.
He was full of animation and expressed his great delight at having her
sitting opposite him:
"Yes," he exclaimed, "I had to resort to powerful means and attract you by
the bait of the most fabulous enterprises. You must confess that my letter
was jolly smart! The three rushes, the blue gown; simply irresistible!
And, when I had thrown in a few puzzles of my own invention, such as the
seventy-five beads of the necklace and the old woman with the silver
rosary, I knew that you were bound to succumb to the temptation. Don't be
angry with me. I wanted to see you and I wanted it to be today. You have
come and I thank you."
He next told her how he had got on the track of the stolen trinket: