certain that someone wished to get rid of me ... don't you agree with
me?... I must have been dosed with some narcotic, just as they dosed my
poor brother, for I am now absolutely convinced that he also was sent to
sleep and poisoned...."
"And that he is dead! Is that not so?" asked Fandor in a low voice.
Without hesitation, in a tearful voice, Elizabeth repeated:
"And that he is dead. You have given me so many proofs that it is so,
that I can no longer doubt it, alas! But I will take courage, as I
promised you I would. I ought to live, that I may strive to rehabilitate
his memory, and restore to him his reputation as a man of probity, of
honour, to which he is entitled. But directly I begin to think about the
horrible mystery in which I am involved, my very reason seems to
totter--you can understand that, can you not? I don't understand, I
don't know, I can't guess ... oh!..."
"But," interrupted Fandor, "we must seriously consider the situation in
all its bearings. It may cause you atrocious suffering, but you must
summon all your courage, mademoiselle. We must discuss it."
Fandor and Elizabeth had moved away from the terrace, and were now in
the leafy solitudes of the park.
Fandor began:
"There is that paper with its list of names, written in green ink,
mademoiselle! It was a mistake on your part not to attach any importance
to it until you fancied, and perhaps rightly, that someone had tried to
steal it from you. Come now, can you tell me whether this list is still
in your possession, or not?"
Elizabeth shook her head sadly.
"I do not know, I cannot tell! My poor head is so bewildered, and I find
it all the trouble in the world to collect my thoughts. I told you, the
other day, that this list had disappeared from a little red pocket book,
that I had put on the chimney piece of my room at Auteuil. But the more
I think it over, the more doubtful I am.... It seems to me now, that
this list ought to be, must be still--unless it has been stolen
since--in the big trunk, into which I threw, pell-mell, the papers and
books my brother left scattered about his writing table. To be quite
sure about this, we must return to Auteuil.... But perhaps it is
useless; because when I wanted to send it to you some forty-eight hours
ago, I searched everywhere for the wretched thing, and in vain!... I am
not even sure now that I brought it away with me from rue Norvins!"
Fandor gently comforted the distracted girl whose eyes were full of
tears.
"Do not be disheartened. Try rather to put together in your memory what
was written in this paper! You told me, surely, that there were names in
this list of persons you knew, or had heard of? Search your memory a
little, mademoiselle."
"I don't know! I cannot remember!" cried Elizabeth nervously.
"Come now," said Fandor encouragingly, "I know an excellent way of
assisting the memory. The eyes are like a sensitive photographic plate:
what the brain does not always retain, the mirror of the eye registers:
do not try to remember, but try, as it were, to read on white paper what
your eyes saw!..."
"Let us sit down a minute and I will help you to do it!" Fandor pointed
out a rustic seat, under the trees, in front of which was a garden
table. They sat down together and Fandor drew from his pocket a sheet of
white paper and his fountain pen.
Elizabeth's arm touched his shoulder.
As though electrified by this contact, the two young people trembled,
their eyes met in a glance full of troubled emotion--a feeling new to
both--whose immense significance neither understood. Fandor remained
speechless, and Elizabeth blushed.
They gazed at each other, embarrassed, not knowing what to say for
themselves; and their embarrassment was only relieved by the appearance
of the sister who attended to the turning box at the entrance gate. She
stood at the top of the steps leading down to the park and called
Elizabeth.
"Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle! There is someone on the telephone who
wishes to speak to you!"
Fandor rose.
"Will you allow me to accompany you, mademoiselle? I am very curious to
know whether the person now asking for you is identical with the person
who asked for you a little while ago?"
The young couple hurried to the big parlour, and Elizabeth went to the
telephone.
"Hullo?..."
Elizabeth had handed one of the receivers to Fandor. He heard a
voice--an unknown voice, but beyond question masculine--who said, over
the wire:
"Hullo!... Is it really Mademoiselle Dollon to whom I have the honour of
speaking?"
"Yes, monsieur. Who is speaking to me?"
But just as Elizabeth was about to repeat her question, Fandor thought
he heard whoever had called up Elizabeth, hang up the receivers. No
reply reached them!...
Elizabeth cried impatiently:
"Hullo!... Hullo!... Who is speaking to me?"
But there was no one at the end of the line!
Fandor swore softly to himself, then seizing the two receivers he
called:
"Hullo! Come, monsieur, reply!... Whom do you want? Who are you?"
He could not obtain any reply.
Fandor rang up the central office. When the telephone girl answered, he
called:
"Mademoiselle, why have you cut me off?"
"But I have done nothing of the kind, monsieur!"
"But I cannot get any reply!"
"It is because the receivers have been hung up by whoever called you. I
assure you that is so."
"What was my caller's number?"
"I cannot tell you that, monsieur--the rules forbid it."
Fandor knew this quite well, so he did not insist further. But, as he
turned away from the telephone, a dull anger smouldered within him.
"Who was this mysterious individual who had called Elizabeth twice over
the telephone, and then, no sooner put into communication with her, had
refused to talk to her?"
Fandor felt nervous, anxious, exasperated by this incident; but it would
never do to trouble his young friend to no good purpose. He led her back
to the garden.
"Where were we in our talk, monsieur?" asked Elizabeth.
With a considerable effort, the journalist collected his thoughts.
"We were discussing the mysterious paper found at your brother's,
mademoiselle."
In agreement with Elizabeth, Jerome Fandor determined the approximate
size of this list of addresses. He tore from his note-book a sheet of
white paper.
Elizabeth looked fixedly at the white sheet for a long time, as though,
by concentrated will power, she could force the mysterious names which
she read some days before on the original paper, to rise up in front of
her eyes. Certainly it seemed to her that on this list figured the name
of her brother, that of the Baroness de Vibray, lawyer Gerin's also:
then she remembered a double name, a name not unknown to her, which had
appeared in the list.
"Barbey-Nanteuil!" she suddenly cried. "Yes, I do believe those two
names were on it!"
Fandor smiled. Encouraged by his smile and the results of this
semi-clairvoyant attempt, Elizabeth allowed her thoughts free play.
"I am sure of it: there was even a mistake in spelling: _Nanteuil_ was
spelled _Nauteuil_: the bankers were third or fourth on the list, and I
am certain now that the Baroness de Vibray's name headed the list....
There was also a date, composed of two figures--a 1 ... then--wait a
minute!... a figure with a tail to it ... that is to say, it could only
have been a 5, a 7, or a 9.... I cannot remember which. Then there were
other names I had never heard of."
"Try, mademoiselle, to remember...."
There was a silence. Fandor was puzzling over the figures
he had written down in the order Elizabeth had mentioned
them--fifteen--seventeen--nineteen--but what could he deduce from
them?... Ah!... The mysterious robbery of rue du Quatre Septembre was
committed on May 15th! There may be a clue there! The thread of Fandor's
reflections were abruptly broken by a cry from Elizabeth.
"I have recalled a name--something like ... Thomas!... Does that tell
you anything?"
"Thomas?" repeated Jerome Fandor slowly.... "I don't see...."
But suddenly he saw light!
He jumped up:
"Isn't it Thomery?" cried he, intensely excited. "Are you not
confounding Thomas with Thomery?"
Elizabeth, taken aback, confused, tried hard to remember: she threshed
her memory with knitted brows.
"It may be so," she declared. "I see quite clearly the first letters of
the word--Thom ... written in a large hand,... then the rest is
indistinct ... but I have the impression that the end of the word is
longer than the last syllable of Thomas."
"Perhaps you are right!"
Fandor was no longer listening to her. He had left the rustic bench, and
without paying any attention to Elizabeth, he began walking up and down
the shady path, talking to himself in a low tone, as was his habit when
he wished to reduce his thoughts to order.
"Thomas--that is Thomery; Jacques Dollon, the Baroness de Vibray,
Barbey-Nanteuil, lawyer Gerin--but they are all the victims of the
mysterious band that plots and plans in the shade!... It is
incomprehensible--but we shall find a way to get to the bottom of it
all!"
Fandor returned to Elizabeth.
"We shall get to the bottom of these mysteries," cried he, with so
triumphant an air, his face shining with joy, that Elizabeth, in spite
of her torturing anxieties, could not help smiling.
They were alone in these green and flowery spaces. A great peace was all
about them. The birds were singing, the breeze lightly stirred the trees
and bushes with caressing breaths.... Fandor gazed tenderly at
Elizabeth, very tenderly.... The young girl smiled tremulously, as she
met this glance of lover-like tenderness.
"We shall get to the bottom of it," repeated Fandor. "You will see, I
promise you...."
Their glances mingled in a mute communion of thought and feeling....
Spontaneously, their hands met and clasped.... They were standing close
together, and theirs the consciousness of living through an
unforgettable moment: they felt most vividly alive together. How young
they were! How intoxicating, a moment!... The world of outside things
ceased to exist for them.... They were enwrapt in a glowing world of
their own!... Fandor's hand slid to Elizabeth's shoulder; he leaned
towards the unresisting girl, and with closed eyes, their lips met in a
long kiss--a kiss all ecstasy....
It was a moment's mutual madness!... The instant past, both knew it.
Torn from this momentary dream of bliss, they gazed at each other,
embarrassed, greatly moved: for that very reason they wished to part.
Ah, this was not the moment to speak of love, to dream of happiness and
mutual joy! Dark, dreadful mysteries enclosed them: it was a sinister
net they struggled in: as yet they could see no clear way out!... They
had no right to be themselves until the mysteries were cleared away....
They could not belong to each other now!
* * * * *
Fandor, when taking leave of Elizabeth, expressed a wish that she should
not accompany him to the convent; and she, still shaken with emotion,
had not insisted on doing so.
As he was on the point of stepping into the street, a sister came up to
him.
"You are Monsieur Jerome Fandor?"
"Yes, sister."
"Our Mother Superior wishes to speak to you."
Our journalist bowed acquiescence.
Some minutes later, the Mother Superior joined him in the large parlour.
"Monsieur," she began, "I must apologise for having sent for you, but I
wished to have a necessary talk with you."
Fandor interrupted the saintly nun.
"And I must apologise, reverend Mother, for not having come to pay my
respects to you before leaving. Had I not been much troubled, I should
never have dreamt of leaving without thanking you for the help you have
been good enough to give me."
The nun looked at him questioningly. Fandor continued:
"In agreeing to receive Mademoiselle Elizabeth Dollon as a boarder, you
have done a deed of true charity: this poor girl is so unhappy, so
tried, so unfortunate, that I really do not know where she could have
found a better refuge than in this convent under your sheltering
care.... I ..."
But the nun would not allow Fandor to continue.
"It is precisely about Mademoiselle Dollon that I wish to speak to
you.... Of course, I should be glad to help and comfort one suffering
from a real misfortune; but I must confess, that when Mademoiselle
Dollon presented herself here as a boarder, I was ignorant of the exact
nature of the scandal in which she is involved."
Fandor was taken aback at the harsh tone of the nun's speech.
"Good Heavens, madame, what do you mean to insinuate?"
"I have just been informed, monsieur, of the exact nature of the
relations which existed between the criminal, Jacques Dollon, and Madame
de Vibray."
Fandor stiffened with indignation.
"It is false!" he cried. "Utterly false! You have been misinformed!"
He stopped short. The nun signified by a movement of her hand that
further protests were useless.
"In any case, whether false or not, it is quite certain that we cannot
keep this girl here any longer, for her name will, in the end, do harm
to the respectability of this house."
Fandor was astounded at this extraordinary statement.
"In other words," said he, "you refuse to keep Mademoiselle here any
longer as a boarder?"
"Yes, monsieur!"
The journalist moved a step or two, then, with bent head, seemed to be
turning something over in his mind.
"It comes to this, madame, you are not giving me your true reasons
for ..."
Again the nun interrupted the young man with a gesture.
"True, monsieur, I should have preferred not to mention my real and very
definite reasons which make it an imperative duty that I should request
Mademoiselle Dollon to seek another refuge. Nevertheless, since you
insist, I will tell you that Mademoiselle Dollon's attitude just
now--her behaviour--is what we cannot possibly allow...."
"Good Heavens! What do you wish to insinuate now, madame?"
"You kissed her, monsieur. I regret that you have forced me to go into
details. I regret that you have compelled me to put into words this--I
will not allow you to turn this religious house into a lover's meeting
place! Am I clear?"
Before Fandor had time to protest, the nun gave him a curt bow, and
prepared to leave him.
The young journalist recalled her. He was angry; all the more so,
because he knew that the Mother Superior had some justification for the
attitude she had taken up. Alas! All his protestations were vain!
"Very well, madame," he said at last. "You are utterly mistaken; but I
recognise that your attitude has some colour of justification, and I bow
to your decision, based on misinformation and a mistake though it be.
Kindly allow me two days' grace, that I may find another refuge for
Mademoiselle Dollon!"
With a movement of her head the nun signified her assent; then, with a
final bow, she left the parlour.
Crestfallen, but full of angry resolve, Jerome Fandor turned his back on
the convent.
XV
VAGUE SUSPICIONS
Fandor was talking to himself--an inveterate habit of his--as he sat in
the cab which was carrying him to the Palais de Justice.
"Beyond question, I ought to have examined that paper they have stolen
from Mademoiselle Elizabeth. I should have looked through it at the
first opportunity. That sequence of names; those dates, which seem to
almost coincide with the different criminal attempts, probably relate to
the mysterious plan which the assassins are carrying out
systematically.... But, that means there are to be more victims, and we
shall witness fresh tragedies!... I am not at all easy about Elizabeth
either!... Who the deuce could have telephoned to her at the convent?...
Perhaps what I am going to do is stupid, but no chance must be
neglected.... I wonder if I shall learn anything worth knowing at the
court to-day?...
"When they arrested these smugglers, five months ago, I recollect
perfectly that Monsieur Thomery's name was mentioned in connection with
the business.... If I only held the connecting link of interest in my
hands, which would make it clear why all these people--Jacques Dollon,
the Baroness de Vibray, Princess Sonia Danidoff, Barbey-Nanteuil, and
even Elizabeth Dollon--have been the victims of the horrible band I am
pursuing.... The motive? Evidently robbery! But there must be some other
reason, for--and it is a significant fact--all these people know one
another, meet one another, or at least are either clients of the
Barbey-Nanteuil bank, or are friends of Monsieur Thomery.... It's the
devil's own mystery!"
* * * * *
Jerome Fandor had arrived at the Palais de Justice. He crossed the great
hall des Pas-Perdus and entered the Assize Court.
* * * * *
The trial of the Cooper and his accomplices was a small affair, and had
not attracted many listeners, for these smuggling and coining cases were
apt to be dull. As a matter of fact, there would not have been a soul
present, if the accused had not had the most popular of counsels to
defend them--Maitre Henri Robart!
Fandor joined a group who were on familiar terms evidently, and,
although he had not seen her for many a day, he at once recognised
Mother Toulouche by her remarkable appearance and grotesque get up. He
had had so many other irons in the fire, that he had not followed this
smuggling case at all closely: he was surprised, therefore, to see
Mother Toulouche in the little passage adjoining the court, for he had
the impression that the old receiver of stolen goods had been under lock
and key for some weeks.... She was now being interviewed by one of his
colleagues. Fandor went up to them.
Though she had not been accused of anything so far, the old storekeeper
was vehemently protesting her innocence.
"Yes," she declared to her interviewer, "it is abominable, when such
things are discovered all of a sudden!"
Mother Toulouche went on to explain that on Clock Quay she rented a
small shop for the sale of curiosities: that she was an honest woman,
who had never wronged a soul by as much as a farthing: all she asked was
to be left in peace to earn a decent living, so that she could retire
from business some day or other.... Everyone had a right to ask as much
as that!... Her store consisted of two rooms and an underground cellar,
in which she had put a quantity of old odds and ends, when she had moved
to her present abode.... She never descended to this cellar, never at
all: she was far too much afraid of rats to venture down there! Not she!
But, one day, if you please, when she was quietly engaged in mending
some old clothes, the police had suddenly burst into her store!... And
they had accused her of receiving smuggled goods and false money, and
she didn't know what more besides!...
The police, not content with this, had made her go down to the cellar to
find out whether or no there were such things in the second cellar
belonging to her store!... Who had been most surprised then? Why who but
Mother Toulouche, who, until that very minute, had not known that this
second cellar existed! How then was she to know that it communicated
with the sewer, still less that the sewer opened on to the Seine, and
that by the Seine arrived bales of smuggled goods, which were concealed
in her cellar by the smugglers?... Fortunately, the judges had
understood this, and after twenty-four hours' detention on suspicion,
Mother Toulouche had been set at liberty!
At first, she had declared that she did not know the accused persons
summoned to appear that day, the Cooper in particular; to tell the
truth, she had made a mistake; she did know them, through having met
them a long time ago, when she lived near la Capelle; so long ago was it
that she had forgotten all about it! Anyhow, she wanted to have done
with the business!
From the very beginning of the trial, Mother Toulouche had been
disagreeably struck by the inquisitorial glances and pointed questions
of the Public Prosecutor throughout the proceedings. Now, in her turn,
the old storekeeper was questioning her audience, trying hard to find
out what would be the probable attitude of the magistrate, when she
herself should be summoned to the witness-box.
"Witness!... Mother Toulouche!"
Fandor smiled as he listened to the loquacious old storekeeper,
for he knew how much faith was to be put in her veracity and
respectability!... It was pretty clear that she was every whit as guilty
as the handcuffed individuals now in the dock. As she had not been
arrested, it simply meant that, in Juve's opinion, this was not an
opportune moment to put a stopper on the nefarious activities of this
bad old woman.
At this precise moment, Fandor recognised Juve. He was leaving a group
of barristers and officials, who had been hugely entertained by his
stupid answers and remarks. Yes, it was Juve, so admirably made up and
disguised that Fandor had difficulty in recognising him. Here was
Cranajour on the scene! He approached Mother Toulouche and stood
there--a Cranajour who was the picture of gaping imbecility!
"You, too?" cried Mother Toulouche, looking askance at him. "Are you one
of the witnesses?"
Cranajour's reply was a comical grimace. He scratched his beard,
remarking finally:
"I have forgotten! I don't know!"
His audience burst into roars of laughter: Fandor laughed loudest of
all!
One of Maitre Henri Robart's juniors whispered in Fandor's ear, with an
air of giving the journalist a piece of information worth having.
"A simple-minded soul, that!--a kind of idiot! You can guess that, at
the preliminary inquiry, they soon found that out!... He may be
heard--or he may not?"
Fandor nodded. He found it difficult not to laugh.
"Thanks many for the information," he stammered. The young barrister did
not understand the ironical tone of our journalist.
Mother Toulouche was envying Cranajour.
"You're in luck, you are--to be too silly to go and talk to those
inquisitive fellows in there! Eh?"
Conversations stopped. The little low door, giving entrance to the
court, had just opened: an usher announced:
"The case is resumed!... Witnesses this way!... The woman Toulouche?...
It is your turn!..."
They jostled and pushed their way through the narrow entrance in order
to get into the court room quickly.
Fandor, however, instead of following the crowd, had grasped the simple
Cranajour by the shoulder, and shouted loud enough to be heard by those
who might have been surprised at his action.
"You duffer of a Cranajour! Go along with you! You're the man for my
money, old fellow! Here's something for a glass--but come with me for
five minutes: I want to interview you and make a jolly good article out
of it!"
Fandor went off, followed by the detective. When they were quite away
from everyone, Fandor turned quickly to his friend.
"Well, Juve?"
"Nothing, so far...."
"You have not run in the whole gang?"
"Not I!" replied Juve. "These are only the supernumeraries, and there
are some of them out of my reach!... Look here, Fandor," continued Juve
in a low tone. "You will see someone in court presently whose presence
will astonish you--it is an aviator--the aviator Emilet.... Well, my
boy, I have a notion that this fellow is no stranger to all these
goings-on!... But patience!... besides, you know, Fandor, it's not my
way of doing things to put the bracelets on mediocrities such as he: I
fly higher!... Good-bye. Shall see you later on!"
Fandor asked, in a low tone:
"Shall I remain for the sitting?"
"Yes," said Juve. "It is quite likely that I shall not be present; and
it would be a good thing if you were to get a general idea of this
affair: you may pick up some useful information."
"Juve, I very much wish to have a longer talk with you--there are things
I want to say--to tell you!"
Steps could be heard coming in their direction: the two men separated at
once; but Juve had just time to say:
"This evening then, at eight, I shall come to your place, Fandor. Expect
me!"
Half an hour later, Fandor entered the court room....
The speech for the Crown had just been concluded.