The Crystal Stopper Page 10

  CHAPTER X. EXTRA-DRY?

  On one of the hills that girdle Nice with the finest scenery in theworld, between the Vallon de Saint-Silvestre and the Vallon de LaMantega, stands a huge hotel which overlooks the town and the wonderfulBaie des Anges. A crowd flocks to it from all parts, forming a medley ofevery class and nation.

  On the evening of the same Saturday when Lupin, the Growler and theMasher were plunging into Italy, Clarisse Mergy entered this hotel,asked for a bedroom facing south and selected No. 130, on the secondfloor, a room which had been vacant since that morning.

  The room was separated from No. 129 by two partition-doors. As soon asshe was alone, Clarisse pulled back the curtain that concealed the firstdoor, noiselessly drew the bolt and put her ear to the second door:

  "He is here," she thought. "He is dressing to go to the club... as hedid yesterday."

  When her neighbour had gone, she went into the passage and, availingherself of a moment when there was no one in sight, walked up to thedoor of No. 129. The door was locked.

  She waited all the evening for her neighbour's return and did not go tobed until two o'clock. On Sunday morning, she resumed her watch.

  The neighbour went out at eleven. This time he left the key in the door.

  Hurriedly turning the key, Clarisse entered boldly, went to thepartition-door, raised the curtain, drew the bolt and found herself inher own room.

  In a few minutes, she heard two chambermaids doing the room in No. 129.

  She waited until they were gone. Then, feeling sure that she would notbe disturbed, she once more slipped into the other room.

  Her excitement made her lean against a chair. After days and nights ofstubborn pursuit, after alternate hopes and disappointments, she had atlast succeeded in entering a room occupied by Daubrecq. She could lookabout at her ease; and, if she did not discover the crystal stopper, shecould at least hide in the space between the partition-doors, behind thehanging, see Daubrecq, spy upon his movements and surprise his secret.

  She looked around her. A travelling-bag at once caught her attention.She managed to open it; but her search was useless.

  She ransacked the trays of a trunk and the compartments of aportmanteau. She searched the wardrobe, the writing-table, the chestof drawers, the bathroom, all the tables, all the furniture. She foundnothing.

  She gave a start when she saw a scrap of paper on the balcony, lying asthough flung there by accident:

  "Can it be a trick of Daubrecq's?" she thought, out loud. "Can thatscrap of paper contain..."

  "No," said a voice behind her, as she put her hand on the latch.

  She turned and saw Daubrecq.

  She felt neither astonishment nor alarm, nor even any embarrassment atfinding herself face to face with him. She had suffered too deeply formonths to trouble about what Daubrecq could think of her or say, atcatching her in the act of spying.

  She sat down wearily.

  He grinned:

  "No, you're out of it, dear friend. As the children say, you're not'burning' at all. Oh, not a bit of it! And it's so easy! Shall I helpyou? It's next to you, dear friend, on that little table... And yet,by Jove, there's not much on that little table! Something to read,something to write with, something to smoke, something to eat... andthat's all... Will you have one of these candied fruits?... Or perhapsyou would rather wait for the more substantial meal which I haveordered?"

  Clarisse made no reply. She did not even seem to listen to what he wassaying, as though she expected other words, more serious words, which hecould not fail to utter.

  He cleared the table of all the things that lay upon it and put them onthe mantel-piece. Then he rang the bell.

  A head-waiter appeared. Daubrecq asked:

  "Is the lunch which I ordered ready?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "It's for two, isn't it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And the champagne?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Extra-dry?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Another waiter brought a tray and laid two covers on the table: a coldlunch, some fruit and a bottle of champagne in an ice-pail.

  Then the two waiters withdrew.

  "Sit down, dear lady. As you see, I was thinking of you and your coveris laid."

  And, without seeming to observe that Clarisse was not at all prepared todo honour to his invitation, he sat down, began to eat and continued:

  "Yes, upon my word, I hoped that you would end by consenting to thislittle private meeting. During the past week, while you were keeping soassiduous a watch upon me, I did nothing but say to myself, 'I wonderwhich she prefers: sweet champagne, dry champagne, or extra-dry?' I wasreally puzzled. Especially after our departure from Paris. I hadlost your tracks, that is to say, I feared that you had lost mine andabandoned the pursuit which was so gratifying to me. When I went for awalk, I missed your beautiful dark eyes, gleaming with hatred under yourhair just touched with gray. But, this morning, I understood: the roomnext to mine was empty at last; and my friend Clarisse was able to takeup her quarters, so to speak, by my bedside. From that moment I wasreassured. I felt certain that, on coming back--instead of lunching inthe restaurant as usual--I should find you arranging my things to yourconvenience and suiting your own taste. That was why I ordered twocovers: one for your humble servant, the other for his fair friend."

  She was listening to him now and in the greatest terror. So Daubrecqknew that he was spied upon! For a whole week he had seen through herand all her schemes!

  In a low voice, anxious-eyed, she asked:

  "You did it on purpose, did you not? You only went away to drag me withyou?"

  "Yes," he said.

  "But why? Why?"

  "Do you mean to say that you don't know?" retorted Daubrecq, laughingwith a little cluck of delight.

  She half-rose from her chair and, bending toward him, thought, as shethought each time, of the murder which she could commit, of the murderwhich she would commit. One revolver-shot and the odious brute was donefor.

  Slowly her hand glided to the weapon concealed in her bodice.

  Daubrecq said:

  "One second, dear friend... You can shoot presently; but I beg you firstto read this wire which I have just received."

  She hesitated, not knowing what trap he was laying for her; but he wenton, as he produced a telegram:

  "It's about your son."

  "Gilbert?" she asked, greatly concerned.

  "Yes, Gilbert... Here, read it."

  She gave a yell of dismay. She had read:

  "Execution on Tuesday morning."

  And she at once flung herself on Daubrecq, crying:

  "It's not true!... It's a lie... to madden me... Oh, I know you: you arecapable of anything! Confess! It won't be on Tuesday, will it? In twodays! No, no... I tell you, we have four days yet, five days, in whichto save him... Confess it, confess it!"

  She had no strength left, exhausted by this fit of rebellion; and hervoice uttered none but inarticulate sounds.

  He looked at her for a moment, then poured himself out a glass ofchampagne and drank it down at a gulp. He took a few steps up and downthe room, came back to her and said:

  "Listen to me, darling..."

  The insult made her quiver with an unexpected energy. She drew herselfup and, panting with indignation, said:

  "I forbid you... I forbid you to speak to me like that. I will notaccept such an outrage. You wretch!..."

  He shrugged his shoulders and resumed:

  "Pah, I see you're not quite alive to the position. That comes,of course, because you still hope for assistance in some quarter.Prasville, perhaps? The excellent Prasville, whose right hand you are...My dear friend, a forlorn hope... You must know that Prasville is mixedup in the Canal affair! Not directly: that is to say, his name is not onthe list of the Twenty-seven; but it is there under the name of one ofhis friends, an ex-deputy called Vorenglade, Stanislas Vorenglade, hisman of straw, apparently: a penniless individual whom I left alone
andrightly. I knew nothing of all that until this morning, when, lo andbehold, I received a letter informing me of the existence of a bundle ofdocuments which prove the complicity of our one and only Prasville!And who is my informant? Vorenglade himself! Vorenglade, who, tired ofliving in poverty, wants to extort money from Prasville, at the risk ofbeing arrested, and who will be delighted to come to terms with me. AndPrasville will get the sack. Oh, what a lark! I swear to you thathe will get the sack, the villain! By Jove, but he's annoyed me longenough! Prasville, old boy, you've deserved it..."

  He rubbed his hands together, revelling in his coming revenge. And hecontinued:

  "You see, my dear Clarisse... there's nothing to be done in thatdirection. What then? What straw will you cling to? Why, I wasforgetting: M. Arsene Lupin! Mr. Growler! Mr. Masher!... Pah, you'lladmit that those gentlemen have not shone and that all their feats ofprowess have not prevented me from going my own little way. It was boundto be. Those fellows imagine that there's no one to equal them. Whenthey meet an adversary like myself, one who is not to be bounced, itupsets them and they make blunder after blunder, while still believingthat they are hoodwinking him like mad. Schoolboys, that's whatthey are! However, as you seem to have some illusions left about theaforesaid Lupin, as you are counting on that poor devil to crush me andto work a miracle in favour of your innocent Gilbert, come, let's dispelthat illusion. Oh! Lupin! Lord above, she believes in Lupin! Sheplaces her last hopes in Lupin! Lupin! Just wait till I prick you, myillustrious windbag!"

  He took up the receiver of the telephone which communicated with thehall of the hotel and said:

  "I'm No. 129, mademoiselle. Would you kindly ask the person sittingopposite your office to come up to me?... Huh!... Yes, mademoiselle, thegentleman in a gray felt hat. He knows. Thank you, mademoiselle."

  Hanging up the receiver, he turned to Clarisse:

  "Don't be afraid. The man is discretion itself. Besides, it's the mottoof his trade: 'Discretion and dispatch.' As a retired detective, he hasdone me a number of services, including that of following you while youwere following me. Since our arrival in the south, he has been lessbusy with you; but that was because he was more busy elsewhere. Come in,Jacob."

  He himself opened the door, and a short, thin man, with a red moustache,entered the room.

  "Please tell this lady, Jacob, in a few brief words, what you havedone since Wednesday evening, when, after letting her get into thetrain-de-luxe which was taking me from the Gare de Lyon to the south,you yourself remained on the platform at the station. Of course, I amnot asking how you spent your time, except in so far as concerns thelady and the business with which I entrusted you."

  Jacob dived into the inside-pocket of his jacket and produced a littlenote-book of which he turned over the pages and read them aloud in thevoice of a man reading a report:

  "Wednesday evening, 8.15. Gare de Lyon. Wait for two gents, Growler andMasher. They come with another whom I don't know yet, but who can onlybe M. Nicole. Give a porter ten francs for the loan of his cap andblouse. Accost the gents and tell them, from a lady, 'that they weregone to Monte Carlo.' Next, telephone to the porter at the HotelFranklin. All telegrams sent to his boss and dispatched by said bosswill be read by said hotel-porter and, if necessary, intercepted.

  "Thursday. Monte Carlo. The three gents search the hotels.

  "Friday. Flying visits to La Turbie, the Cap d'Ail, Cap Martin. M.Daubrecq rings me up. Thinks it wiser to send the gents to Italy. Makethe porter of the Hotel Franklin send them a telegram appointing ameeting at San Remo.

  "Saturday. San Remo. Station platform. Give the porter of theAmbassadeurs-Palace ten francs for the loan of his cap. The three gentsarrive. They speak to me. Explain to them that a lady traveller,Mme. Mergy, is going on to Genoa, to the Hotel Continental. The gentshesitate. M. Nicole wants to get out. The others hold him back. Thetrain starts. Good luck, gents! An hour later, I take the train forFrance and get out at Nice, to await fresh orders."

  Jacob closed his note-book and concluded:

  "That's all. To-day's doings will be entered this evening."

  "You can enter them now, M. Jacob. '12 noon. M. Daubrecq sends me to theWagon-Lits Co. I book two berths in the Paris sleeping-car, by the 2.48train, and send them to M. Daubrecq by express messenger. Then I takethe 12.58 train for Vintimille, the frontier-station, where I spendthe day on the platform watching all the travellers who come to France.Should Messrs. Nicole, Growler and Masher take it into their heads toleave Italy and return to Paris by way of Nice, my instructions are totelegraph to the headquarters of police that Master Arsene Lupin and twoof his accomplices are in train number so-and-so."

  While speaking, Daubrecq led Jacob to the door. He closed it after him,turned the key, pushed the bolt and, going up to Clarisse, said:

  "And now, darling, listen to me."

  This time, she uttered no protest. What could she do against such anenemy, so powerful, so resourceful, who provided for everything, down tothe minutest details, and who toyed with his adversaries in such an airyfashion? Even if she had hoped till then for Lupin's interference, howcould she do so now, when he was wandering through Italy in pursuit of ashadow?

  She understood at last why three telegrams which she had sent to theHotel Franklin had remained unanswered. Daubrecq was there, lurking inthe dark, watching, establishing a void around her, separating her fromher comrades in the fight, bringing her gradually, a beaten prisoner,within the four walls of that room.

  She felt her weakness. She was at the monster's mercy. She must besilent and resigned.

  He repeated, with an evil delight:

  "Listen to me, darling. Listen to the irrevocable words which I am aboutto speak. Listen to them well. It is now 12 o'clock. The last trainstarts at 2.48: you understand, the last train that can bring me toParis to-morrow, Monday, in time to save your son. The evening-trainswould arrive too late. The trains-de-luxe are full up. Therefore I shallhave to start at 2.48. Am I to start?"

  "Yes."

  "Our berths are booked. Will you come with me?"

  "Yes."

  "You know my conditions for interfering?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you accept them?"

  "Yes."

  "You will marry me?"

  "Yes."

  Oh, those horrible answers! The unhappy woman gave them in a sort ofawful torpor, refusing even to understand what she was promising. Lethim start first, let him snatch Gilbert from the engine of death whosevision haunted her day and night... And then... and then... let whatmust come come...

  He burst out laughing:

  "Oh, you rogue, it's easily said!... You're ready to pledge yourself toanything, eh? The great thing is to save Gilbert, isn't it? Afterward,when that noodle of a Daubrecq comes with his engagement-ring, not abit of it! Nothing doing! We'll laugh in his face!... No, no, enoughof empty words. I don't want promises that won't be kept: I want facts,immediate facts."

  He came and sat close beside her and stated, plainly:

  "This is what I propose... what must be... what shall be... I will ask,or rather I will demand, not Gilbert's pardon, to begin with, but areprieve, a postponement of the execution, a postponement of threeor four weeks. They will invent a pretext of some sort: that's not myaffair. And, when Mme. Mergy has become Mme. Daubrecq, then and not tillthen will I ask for his pardon, that is to say, the commutation of hissentence. And make yourself quite easy: they'll grant it."

  "I accept... I accept," she stammered.

  He laughed once more:

  "Yes, you accept, because that will happen in a month's time... andmeanwhile you reckon on finding some trick, an assistance of some kindor another... M. Arsene Lupin..."

  "I swear it on the head of my son."

  "The head of your son!... Why, my poor pet, you would sell yourself tothe devil to save it from falling!..."

  "Oh, yes," she whispered, shuddering. "I would gladly sell my soul!"

  He sidled up against her and, in a low voice: />
  "Clarisse, it's not your soul I ask for... It's something else... Formore than twenty years my life has spun around that longing. You are theonly woman I have ever loved... Loathe me, hate me--I don't care--but donot spurn me... Am I to wait? To wait another month?... No, Clarisse, Ihave waited too many years already..."

  He ventured to touch her hand. Clarisse shrank back with such disgustthat he was seized with fury and cried:

  "Oh, I swear to heaven, my beauty, the executioner won't stand on suchceremony when he catches hold of your son!... And you give yourselfairs! Why, think, it'll happen in forty hours! Forty hours, no more, andyou hesitate... and you have scruples, when your son's life is at stake!Come, come, no whimpering, no silly sentimentality... Look things inthe face. By your own oath, you are my wife, you are my bride from thismoment... Clarisse, Clarisse, give me your lips..."

  Half-fainting, she had hardly the strength to put out her arm and pushhim away; and, with a cynicism in which all his abominable nature stoodrevealed, Daubrecq, mingling words of cruelty and words of passion,continued:

  "Save your son!... Think of the last morning: the preparations for thescaffold, when they snip away his shirt and cut his hair... Clarisse,Clarisse, I will save him... Be sure of it... All my life shall be yours... Clarisse..."

  She no longer resisted. It was over. The loathsome brute's lips wereabout to touch hers; and it had to be, and nothing could prevent it.It was her duty to obey the decree of fate. She had long known it. Sheunderstood it; and, closing her eyes, so as not to see the foul facethat was slowly raised to hers, she repeated to herself:

  "My son... my poor son."

  A few seconds passed: ten, twenty perhaps. Daubrecq did not move.Daubrecq did not speak. And she was astounded at that great silence andthat sudden quiet. Did the monster, at the last moment, feel a scrupleof remorse?

  She raised her eyelids.

  The sight which she beheld struck her with stupefaction. Instead ofthe grinning features which she expected to see, she saw a motionless,unrecognizable face, contorted by an expression of unspeakable terror:and the eyes, invisible under the double impediment of the spectacles,seemed to be staring above her head, above the chair in which she layprostrate.

  Clarisse turned her face. Two revolver-barrels, pointed at Daubrecq,showed on the right, a little above the chair. She saw only that: thosetwo huge, formidable revolvers, gripped in two clenched hands. She sawonly that and also Daubrecq's face, which fear was discolouring littleby little, until it turned livid. And, almost at the same time, some oneslipped behind Daubrecq, sprang up fiercely, flung one of his arms roundDaubrecq's neck, threw him to the ground with incredible violence andapplied a pad of cotton-wool to his face. A sudden smell of chloroformfilled the room.

  Clarisse had recognized M. Nicole.

  "Come along, Growler!" he cried. "Come along, Masher! Drop yourshooters: I've got him! He's a limp rag... Tie him up."

  Daubrecq, in fact, was bending in two and falling on his knees like adisjointed doll. Under the action of the chloroform, the fearsome brutesank into impotence, became harmless and grotesque.

  The Growler and the Masher rolled him in one of the blankets of the bedand tied him up securely.

  "That's it! That's it!" shouted Lupin, leaping to his feet.

  And, in a sudden reaction of mad delight, he began to dance a wild jigin the middle of the room, a jig mingled with bits of can-can and thecontortions of the cakewalk and the whirls of a dancing dervish and theacrobatic movements of a clown and the lurching steps of a drunkenman. And he announced, as though they were the numbers in a music-hallperformance:

  "The prisoner's dance!... The captive's hornpipe!... A fantasia on thecorpse of a representative of the people!... The chloroform polka!...The two-step of the conquered goggles! Olle! Olle! The blackmailer'sfandango! Hoot! Hoot! The McDaubrecq's fling!... The turkey trot!...And the bunny hug!... And the grizzly bear!... The Tyrolean dance:tra-la-liety!... Allons, enfants de la partie!... Zing, boum, boum!Zing, boum, boum!..."

  All his street-arab nature, all his instincts of gaiety, so longsuppressed by his constant anxiety and disappointment, came out andbetrayed themselves in roars of laughter, bursts of animal spirits and apicturesque need of childlike exuberance and riot.

  He gave a last high kick, turned a series of cartwheels round theroom and ended by standing with his hands on his hips and one foot onDaubrecq's lifeless body.

  "An allegorical tableau!" he announced. "The angel of virtue destroyingthe hydra of vice!"

  And the humour of the scene was twice as great because Lupin wasappearing under the aspect of M. Nicole, in the clothes and figure ofthat wizened, awkward, nervous private tutor.

  A sad smile flickered across Mme. Mergy's face, her first smile formany a long month. But, at once returning to the reality of things, shebesought him:

  "Please, please... think of Gilbert!"

  He ran up to her, caught her in his arms and, obeying a spontaneousimpulse, so frank that she could but laugh at it, gave her a resoundingkiss on either cheek:

  "There, lady, that's the kiss of a decent man! Instead of Daubrecq, it'sI kissing you... Another word and I'll do it again... and I'll call youdarling next... Be angry with me, if you dare. Oh, how happy I am!"

  He knelt before her on one knee. And, respectfully:

  "I beg your pardon, madame. The fit is over."

  And, getting up again, resuming his whimsical manner, he continued,while Clarisse wondered what he was driving at:

  "What's the next article, madame? Your son's pardon, perhaps? Certainly!Madame, I have the honour to grant you the pardon of your son, thecommutation of his sentence to penal servitude for life and, to windup with, his early escape. It's settled, eh, Growler? Settled, Masher,what? You'll both go with the boy to New Caledonia and arrange foreverything. Oh, my dear Daubrecq, we owe you a great debt! But I'm notforgetting you, believe me! What would you like? A last pipe? Coming,coming!"

  He took one of the pipes from the mantel-piece, stooped over theprisoner, shifted his pad and thrust the amber mouth-piece between histeeth:

  "Draw, old chap, draw. Lord, how funny you look, with your plug overyour nose and your cutty in your mouth. Come, puff away. By Jove, Iforgot to fill your pipe! Where's your tobacco, your favourite Maryland?... Oh, here we are!..."

  He took from the chimney an unopened yellow packet and tore off thegovernment band:

  "His lordship's tobacco! Ladies and gentlemen, keep your eyes on me!This is a great moment. I am about to fill his lordship's pipe: byJupiter, what an honour! Observe my movements! You see, I have nothingin my hands, nothing up my sleeves!..."

  He turned back his cuffs and stuck out his elbows. Then he opened thepacket and inserted his thumb and fore-finger, slowly, gingerly, like aconjurer performing a sleight-of-hand trick before a puzzled audience,and, beaming all over his face, extracted from the tobacco a glitteringobject which he held out before the spectators.

  Clarisse uttered a cry.

  It was the crystal stopper.

  She rushed at Lupin and snatched it from him:

  "That's it; that's the one!" she exclaimed, feverishly. "There's noscratch on the stem! And look at this line running down the middle,where the gilt finishes... That's it; it unscrews!... Oh, dear, mystrength's going!..." She trembled so violently that Lupin took back thestopper and unscrewed it himself.

  The inside of the knob was hollow; and in the hollow space was a pieceof paper rolled into a tiny pellet.

  "The foreign-post-paper," he whispered, himself greatly excited, withquivering hands.

  There was a long silence. All four felt as if their hearts were ready toburst from their bodies; and they were afraid of what was coming.

  "Please, please..." stammered Clarisse.

  Lupin unfolded the paper.

  There was a set of names written one below the other, twenty-seven ofthem, the twenty-seven names of the famous list: Langeroux, Dechaumont,Vorenglade, d'Albufex, Victorien Mergy and the rest.


  And, at the foot, the signature of the chairman of the Two-Seas CanalCompany, the signature written in letters of blood.

  Lupin looked at his watch:

  "A quarter to one," he said. "We have twenty minutes to spare. Let'shave some lunch."

  "But," said Clarisse, who was already beginning to lose her head, "don'tforget..."

  He simply said:

  "All I know is that I'm dying of hunger."

  He sat down at the table, cut himself a large slice of cold pie and saidto his accomplices:

  "Growler? A bite? You, Masher?"

  "I could do with a mouthful, governor."

  "Then hurry up, lads. And a glass of champage to wash it down with: it'sthe chloroform-patient's treat. Your health, Daubrecq! Sweet champagne?Dry champagne? Extra-dry?"