813

"And the brothers Doudeville?"

"I sent them out by the back. They will cut off his retreat when the time comes."

Gourel took M. Lenormand's hand, led him downstairs and then into a little dark room:

"Don't stir, chief; we are in Pierre Leduc's dressing-room. I am opening the door of the recess in which his bed stands… Don't be afraid.. he has taken his veronal as he does every evening.. nothing can wake him. Come this way… It's a good hiding-place, isn't it?.. These are the curtains of his bed… From here you can see the window and the whole side of the room between the window and the bed."

The casement stood open and admitted a vague light, which became very precise at times, when the moon burst through her veil of clouds. The two men did not take their eyes from the empty window-frame, feeling certain that the event which they were awaiting would come from that side.

A slight, creaking noise.

"He is climbing the trellis," whispered Gourel.

"Is it high?"

"Six feet or so."

The creaking became more distinct.

"Go, Gourel," muttered M. Lenormand, "find the Doudevilles, bring them back to the foot of the wall and bar the road to any one who tries to get down this way."

Gourel went. At the same moment, a head appeared at the level of the window. Then a leg was flung over the balcony. M. Lenormand distinguished a slenderly-built man, below the middle height, dressed in dark colours and without a hat.

The man turned and, leaning over the balcony, looked for a few seconds into space, as though to make sure that no danger threatened him. Then he stooped down and lay at full length on the floor. He appeared motionless. But soon M. Lenormand realized that the still blacker shadow which he formed against the surrounding darkness was coming forward, nearer.

It reached the bed.

M. Lenormand had an impression that he could hear the man's breathing and, at the same time, that he could just see his eyes, keen, glittering eyes, which pierced the darkness like shafts of fire and which themselves could see through that same darkness.

Pierre Leduc gave a deep sigh and turned over.

A fresh silence..

The man had glided along the bed with imperceptible movements and his dark outline now stood out against the whiteness of the sheets that hung down to the floor.

M. Lenormand could have touched him by putting out his arm. This time, he clearly distinguished the breathing, which alternated with that of the sleeper, and he had the illusion that he also heard the sound of a heart beating.

Suddenly, a flash of light… The man had pressed the spring of an electric lantern; and Pierre Leduc was lit full in the face, but the man remained in the shade, so that M. Lenormand was unable to see his features.

All that he saw was something that shone in the bright space; and he shuddered. It was the blade of a knife; and that thin, tapering knife, more like a stiletto than a dagger, seemed to him identical with the weapon which he had picked up by the body of Chapman, Mr. Kesselbach's secretary.

He put forth all his will-power to restrain himself from springing upon the man. He wanted first to know what the man had come to do.

The hand was raised. Was he going to strike? M. Lenormand calculated the distance in order to stop the blow… But no, it was not a murderous gesture, but one of caution. The hand would only fall if Pierre Leduc stirred or tried to call out. And the man bent over the sleeper, as though he were examining something.

"The right cheek," thought M. Lenormand, "the scar on the right cheek… He wants to make sure that it is really Pierre Leduc."

The man had turned a little to one side, so that only his shoulders were visible. But his clothes, his overcoat, were so near that they brushed against the curtains behind which M. Lenormand was hiding.

"One movement on his part," thought the chief detective, "a thrill of alarm; and I shall collar him."

But the man, entirely absorbed in his examination, did not stir. At last, after shifting the dagger to the hand that held the lantern, he raised the sheet, at first hardly at all, then a little more, then more still, until the sleeper's left arm was uncovered and the hand laid bare. The flash of the lantern shone upon the hand. The fingers lay outspread. The little finger was cut on the second joint.

Again Pierre Leduc made a movement. The light was immediately put out; and, for an instant, the man remained beside the bed, motionless, standing straight up. Would he make up his mind to strike? M. Lenormand underwent the agony of the crime which he could so easily prevent, but which he did not want to forestall before the very last second.

A long, a very long silence. Suddenly, he saw or rather fancied that he saw an arm uplifted. Instinctively he moved, stretching his hand above the sleeper. In making this gesture, he hit against the man.

A dull cry. The fellow struck out at space, defended himself at random and fled toward the window. But M. Lenormand had leapt upon him and had his two arms around the man's shoulders.

He at once felt him yielding and, as the weaker of the two, powerless in Lenormand's hands, trying to avoid the struggle and to slip from between his arms. Lenormand, exerting all his strength, held him flat against his chest, bent him in two and stretched him on his back on the floor.

"Ah, I've got him, I've got him!" he muttered triumphantly.

And he felt a singular elation at imprisoning that terrifying criminal, that unspeakable monster, in his irresistible grip. He felt him living and quivering, enraged and desperate, their two lives mingled, their breaths blended:

"Who are you?" he asked. "Who are you?.. You'll have to speak.."

And he clasped the enemy's body with still greater force, for he had an impression that that body was diminishing between his arms, that it was vanishing. He gripped harder.. and harder..

And suddenly he shuddered from head to foot. He had felt, he still felt a tiny prick in the throat… In his exasperation, he gripped harder yet: the pain increased! And he observed that the man had succeeded in twisting one arm round, slipping his hand to his chest and holding the dagger on end. The arm, it was true, was incapable of motion; but the closer M. Lenormand tightened his grip, the deeper did the point of the dagger enter the proffered flesh.

He flung back his head a little to escape the point: the point followed the movement and the wound widened.

Then he moved no more, remembering the three crimes and all the alarming, atrocious and prophetic things represented by that same little steel needle which was piercing his skin and which, in its turn, was implacably penetrating..

Suddenly, he let go and gave a leap backwards. Then, at once, he tried to resume the offensive. It was too late. The man flung his legs across the window-sill and jumped.

"Look out, Gourel!" he cried, knowing that Gourel was there, ready to catch the fugitive.

He leant out. A crunching of pebbles.. a shadow between two trees, the slam of the gate… And no other sound.. no interference..

Without giving a thought to Pierre Leduc, he called:

"Gourel!.. Doudeville!"

No answer. The great silence of the countryside at night..

In spite of himself, he continued to think of the treble murder, the steel dagger. But no, it was impossible, the man had not had time, had not even had the need to strike, as he had found the road clear.

M. Lenormand jumped out in his turn and, switching on his lantern, recognized Gourel lying on the ground:

"Damn it!" he swore. "If they've killed him, they'll have to pay dearly for it."

But Gourel was not dead, only stunned; and, a few minutes later, he came to himself and growled:

"Only a blow of the fist, chief.. just a blow of the fist which caught me full in the chest. But what a fellow!"

"There were two of them then?"

"Yes, a little one, who went up, and another, who took me unawares while I was watching."

"And the Doudevilles?"

"Haven't seen them."

One of them, Jacques, was found near the gate, bleeding from a punch in the jaw; the other a little farther, gasping for breath from a blow full on the chest.

"What is it? What happened?" asked M. Lenormand.

Jacques said that his brother and he had knocked up against an individual who had crippled them before they had time to defend themselves.

"Was he alone?"

"No; when he passed near us, he had a pal with him, shorter than himself."

"Did you recognize the man who struck you?"

"Judging by the breadth of his shoulders, I thought he might be the Englishman of the Palace Hotel, the one who left the hotel and whose traces we lost."

"The major?"

"Yes, Major Parbury."

After a moment's reflection, M. Lenormand said:

"There is no doubt possible. There were two of them in the Kesselbach case: the man with the dagger, who committed the murders, and his accomplice, the major."

"That is what Prince Sernine thinks," muttered Jacques Doudeville.

"And to-night," continued the chief detective, "it is they again: the same two." And he added, "So much the better. The chance of catching two criminals is a hundred times greater than the chance of catching one."

M. Lenormand attended to his men, had them put to bed and looked to see if the assailants had dropped anything or left any traces. He found nothing and went back to bed again himself.

In the morning, as Gourel and the Doudevilles felt none the worse for their injuries, he told the two brothers to scour the neighborhood and himself set out with Gourel for Paris, in order to hurry matters on and give his orders.

He lunched in his office. At two o'clock, he heard good news. One of his best detectives, Dieuzy, had picked up Steinweg, Rudolf Kesselbach's correspondent, as the German was stepping out of a train from Marseilles.

"Is Dieuzy there?"

"Yes, chief," said Gourel. "He's here with the German."

"Have them brought in to me."

At that moment, the telephone-bell rang. It was Jean Doudeville, speaking from the post-office at Garches. The conversation did not take long:

"Is that you, Jean? Any news?"

"Yes, chief, Major Parbury.."

"Well?"

"We have found him. He has become a Spaniard and has darkened his skin. We have just seen him. He was entering the Garches free-school. He was received by that young lady.. you know, the girl who knows Prince Sernine, Geneviève Ernemont."

"Thunder!"

M. Lenormand let go the receiver, made a grab at his hat, flew into the passage, met Dieuzy and the German, shouted to them to meet him in his office at six o'clock, rushed down the stairs, followed by Gourel and two inspectors whom he picked up on the way, and dived into a taxi-cab:

"Quick as you can to Garches.. ten francs for yourself!"

He stopped the car a little before the Parc de Villeneuve, at the turn of the lane that led to the school. Jean Doudeville was waiting for him and at once exclaimed:

"He slipped away, ten minutes ago, by the other end of the lane."

"Alone?"

"No, with the girl."

M. Lenormand took Doudeville by the collar:

"Wretch! You let him go! But you ought to have.. you ought to have."

"My brother is on his track."

"A lot of good that will do us! He'll stick your brother. You're no match for him, either of you!"

He himself took the steering-wheel of the taxi, and resolutely drove into the lane, regardless of the cart-ruts and of the bushes on each side. They soon emerged on a parish-road, which took them to a crossway where five roads met. M. Lenormand, without hesitation chose the one on the left, the Saint-Cucufa Road. As a matter of fact, at the top of the slope that runs down to the lake, they met the other Doudeville brother, who shouted:

"They are in a carriage.. half a mile away."

The chief did not stop. He sent the car flying down the incline, rushed along the bends, drove round the lake and suddenly uttered an exclamation of triumph. Right at the top of a little hill that stood in front of them, he had seen the hood of a carriage.

Unfortunately, he had taken the wrong road and had to back the machine. When he reached the place where the roads branched, the carriage was still there, stationary. And, suddenly, while he was turning, he saw a girl spring from the carriage. A man appeared on the step. The girl stretched out her arm. Two reports rang out.

She had taken bad aim, without a doubt, for a head looked round the other side of the hood and the man, catching sight of the motor-cab, gave his horse a great lash with the whip and it started off at a gallop. The next moment, a turn of the road hid the carriage from sight.

M. Lenormand finished his tacking in a few seconds, darted straight up the incline, passed the girl without stopping and turned round boldly. He found himself on a steep, pebbly forest road, which ran down between dense woods and which could only be followed very slowly and with the greatest caution. But what did he care! Twenty yards in front of him, the carriage, a sort of two-wheeled cabriolet, was dancing over the stones, drawn, or rather held back, by a horse which knew enough only to go very carefully, feeling its way and taking no risks. There was nothing to fear; escape was impossible.

And the two conveyances went shaking and jolting down-hill. At one moment, they were so close together that M. Lenormand thought of alighting and running with his men. But he felt the danger of putting on the brake on so steep a slope; and he went on, pressing the enemy closely, like a prey which one keeps within sight, within touch..

"We've got him, chief, we've got him!" muttered the inspectors, excited by the unexpected nature of the chase.

At the bottom, the way flattened out into a road that ran towards the Seine, towards Bougival. The horse, on reaching level ground, set off at a jog-trot, without hurrying itself and keeping to the middle of the road.

A violent effort shook the taxi. It appeared, instead of rolling, to proceed by bounds, like a darting fawn, and, slipping by the roadside slope, ready to smash any obstacle, it caught up the carriage, came level with it, passed it..

An oath from M. Lenormand.. shouts of fury… The carriage was empty!

The carriage was empty. The horse was going along peacefully, with the reins on its back, no doubt returning to the stable of some inn in the neighborhood, where it had been hired for the day..

Suppressing his inward rage, the chief detective merely said:

"The major must have jumped out during the few seconds when we lost sight of the carriage, at the top of the descent."

"We have only to beat the woods, chief, and we are sure."

"To return empty-handed. The beggar is far away by this time. He's not one of those who are caught twice in one day. Oh, hang it all, hang it all!"

They went back to the young girl, whom they found in the company of Jacques Doudeville and apparently none the worse for her adventure. M. Lenormand introduced himself, offered to take her back home and at once questioned her about the English major, Parbury.

She expressed astonishment:

"He is neither English nor a major; and his name is not Parbury."

"Then what is his name?"

"Juan Ribeira. He is a Spaniard sent by his government to study the working of the French schools."

"As you please. His name and his nationality are of no importance. He is the man we are looking for. Have you known him long?"

"A fortnight or so. He had heard about a school which I have founded at Garches and he interested himself in my experiment to the extent of proposing to make me an annual grant, on the one condition that he might come from time to time to observe the progress of my pupils. I had not the right to refuse.."

"No, of course not; but you should have consulted your acquaintances. Is not Prince Sernine a friend of yours? He is a man of good counsel."

"Oh, I have the greatest confidence in him; but he is abroad at present."

"Did you not know his address?"

"No. And, besides, what could I have said to him? That gentleman behaved very well. It was not until to-day.. But I don't know if."

"I beg you, mademoiselle, speak frankly. You can have confidence in me also."

"Well, M. Ribeira came just now. He told me that he had been sent by a French lady who was paying a short visit to Bougival, that this lady had a little girl whose education she would like to entrust to me and that she wished me to come and see her without delay. The thing seemed quite natural. And, as this is a holiday and as M. Ribeira had hired a carriage which was waiting for him at the end of the road, I made no difficulty about accepting a seat in it."

"But what was his object, after all?"

She blushed and said:

"To carry me off, quite simply. He confessed it to me after half an hour.."

"Do you know nothing about him?"

"No."

"Does he live in Paris?"

"I suppose so."

"Has he ever written to you? Do you happen to have a few lines in his handwriting, anything which he left behind, that may serve us as a clue?"

"No clue at all… Oh, wait a minute.. but I don't think that has any importance.."

"Speak, speak.. please.."

"Well, two days ago, the gentleman asked permission to use my typewriting machine; and he typed out – with difficulty, for he evidently had no practice – a letter of which I saw the address by accident."

"What was the address?"

"He was writing to the Journal and he put about twenty stamps into the envelope."

"Yes.. the agony-column, no doubt," said M. Lenormand.

"I have to-day's number with me, chief," said Gourel.

M. Lenormand unfolded the sheet and looked at the eighth page. Presently, he gave a start. He had read the following sentence, printed with the usual abbreviation:4

"To any person knowing Mr. Steinweg. Advertiser wishes to know if he is in Paris and his address. Reply through this column."

"Steinweg!" exclaimed Gourel. "But that's the very man whom Dieuzy is bringing to you!"

"Yes, yes," said M. Lenormand, to himself, "it's the man whose letter to Mr. Kesselbach I intercepted, the man who put Kesselbach on the track of Pierre Leduc… So they, too, want particulars about Pierre Leduc and his past?.. They, too, are groping in the dark?."

He rubbed his hands: Steinweg was at his disposal. In less than an hour, Steinweg would have spoken. In less than an hour, the murky veil which oppressed him and which made the Kesselbach case the most agonizing and the most impenetrable that he had ever had in hand: that veil would be torn asunder.

CHAPTER VI

M. LENORMAND SUCCUMBS

M. Lenormand was back in his room at the Prefecture of Police at six o'clock in the evening. He at once sent for Dieuzy:

"Is your man here?"

"Yes, chief."

"How far have you got with him?"

"Not very. He won't speak a word. I told him that, by a new regulation, foreigners were 'bliged to make a declaration at the Prefecture as to the object and the probable length of their stay in Paris; and I brought him here, to your secretary's office."

"I will question him."

But, at that moment, an office-messenger appeared:

"There's a lady asking to see you at once, chief."

"Have you her card?"

"Here, chief."

"Mrs. Kesselbach! Show her in."

He walked across the room to receive the young widow at the door and begged her to take a seat. She still wore the same disconsolate look, the same appearance of illness and that air of extreme lassitude which revealed the distress of her life.

She held out a copy of the Journal and pointed to the line in the agony-column which mentioned Steinweg:

"Old Steinweg was a friend of my husband's," she said, "and I have no doubt that he knows a good many things."

"Dieuzy," said M. Lenormand, "bring the person who is waiting… Your visit, madame, will not have been useless. I will only ask you, when this person enters, not to say a word."

The door opened. A man appeared, an old man with white whiskers meeting under his chin and a face furrowed with deep wrinkles, poorly clad and wearing the hunted look of those wretches who roam about the world in search of their daily pittance.

He stood on the threshold, blinking his eyelids, stared at M. Lenormand, seemed confused by the silence that greeted him on his entrance and turned his hat in his hands with embarrassment.

But, suddenly, he appeared stupefied, his eyes opened wide and he stammered:

"Mrs… Mrs. Kesselbach!"

He had seen the young widow. And, recovering his serenity, smiling, losing his shyness, he went up to her and in a strong German accent:

"Oh, I am glad!.. At last!.. I thought I should never.. I was so surprised to receive no news down there.. no telegrams… And how is our dear Rudolf Kesselbach?"

The lady staggered back, as though she had been struck in the face, and at once fell into a chair and began to sob.

"What's the matter?.. Why, what's the matter?" asked Steinweg.

M. Lenormand interposed:

"I see, sir, that you know nothing about certain events that have taken place recently. Have you been long travelling?"

"Yes, three months… I had been up to the Rand. Then I went back to Capetown and wrote to Rudolf from there. But, on my way home by the East Coast route, I accepted some work at Port Said. Rudolf has had my letter, I suppose?"

"He is away. I will explain the reason of his absence. But, first, there is a point on which we should be glad of some information. It has to do with a person whom you knew and to whom you used to refer, in your intercourse with Mr. Kesselbach, by the name of Pierre Leduc."

"Pierre Leduc! What! Who told you?"

The old man was utterly taken aback.

He spluttered out again:

"Who told you? Who disclosed to you.. ?"

"Mr. Kesselbach."

"Never! It was a secret which I confided to him and Rudolf keeps his secrets.. especially this one."

"Nevertheless, it is absolutely necessary that you should reply to our questions. We are at this moment engaged on an inquiry about Pierre Leduc which must come to a head without delay; and you alone can enlighten us, as Mr. Kesselbach is no longer here."

"Well, then," cried Steinweg, apparently making up his mind, "what do you want?"

"Do you know Pierre Leduc?"

"I have never seen him, but I have long been the possessor of a secret which concerns him. Through a number of incidents which I need not relate and thanks to a series of chances, I ended by acquiring the certainty that the man in whose discovery I was interested was leading a dissolute life in Paris and that he was calling himself Pierre Leduc, which is not his real name."

"But does he know his real name himself?"

"I presume so."

"And you?"

"Yes, I know it."

"Well, tell it to us."

He hesitated; then, vehemently:

"I can't," he said. "No, I can't."

"But why not?"

"I have no right to. The whole secret lies there. When I revealed the secret to Rudolf, he attached so much importance to it that he gave me a large sum of money to purchase my silence and he promised me a fortune, a real fortune, on the day when he should succeed, first, in finding Pierre Leduc and, next, in turning the secret to account." He smiled bitterly. "The large sum of money is already lost. I came to see how my fortune was getting on."

"Mr. Kesselbach is dead," said the chief detective.

Steinweg gave a bound:

"Dead! Is it possible? No, it's a trap. Mrs. Kesselbach, is it true?"

She bowed her head.

He seemed crushed by this unexpected revelation; and, at the same time, it must have been infinitely painful to him, for he began to cry:

"My poor Rudolf, I knew him when he was a little boy… He used to come and play at my house at Augsburg… I was very fond of him." And, calling Mrs. Kesselbach to witness, "And he of me, was he not, Mrs. Kesselbach? He must have told you… His old Daddy Steinweg, he used to call me."

M. Lenormand went up to him and, in his clearest voice:

"Listen to me," he said. "Mr. Kesselbach died murdered… Come, be calm.. exclamations are of no use… He died murdered, I say, and all the circumstances of the crime prove that the culprit knew about the scheme in question. Was there anything in the nature of that scheme that would enable you to guess.. ?"