V
THERESE AND GERMAINE
The weather was so mild that autumn that, on the 12th of October, in themorning, several families still lingering in their villas at Etretat hadgone down to the beach. The sea, lying between the cliffs and the clouds onthe horizon, might have suggested a mountain-lake slumbering in the hollowof the enclosing rocks, were it not for that crispness in the air and thosepale, soft and indefinite colours in the sky which give a special charm tocertain days in Normandy.
"It's delicious," murmured Hortense. But the next moment she added: "Allthe same, we did not come here to enjoy the spectacle of nature or towonder whether that huge stone Needle on our left was really at one timethe home of Arsene Lupin."
"We came here," said Prince Renine, "because of the conversation which Ioverheard, a fortnight ago, in a dining-car, between a man and a woman."
"A conversation of which I was unable to catch a single word."
"If those two people could have guessed for an instant that it was possibleto hear a single word of what they were saying, they would not have spoken,for their conversation was one of extraordinary gravity and importance. ButI have very sharp ears; and though I could not follow every sentence, Iinsist that we may be certain of two things. First, that man and woman, whoare brother and sister, have an appointment at a quarter to twelve thismorning, the 12th of October, at the spot known as the Trois Mathildes,with a third person, who is married and who wishes at all costs to recoverhis or her liberty. Secondly, this appointment, at which they will cometo a final agreement, is to be followed this evening by a walk along thecliffs, when the third person will bring with him or her the man or woman,I can't definitely say which, whom they want to get rid of. That is thegist of the whole thing. Now, as I know a spot called the Trois Mathildessome way above Etretat and as this is not an everyday name, we came downyesterday to thwart the plan of these objectionable persons."
"What plan?" asked Hortense. "For, after all, it's only your assumptionthat there's to be a victim and that the victim is to be flung off thetop of the cliffs. You yourself told me that you heard no allusion to apossible murder."
"That is so. But I heard some very plain words relating to the marriage ofthe brother or the sister with the wife or the husband of the third person,which implies the need for a crime."
They were sitting on the terrace of the casino, facing the stairs which rundown to the beach. They therefore overlooked the few privately-owned cabinson the shingle, where a party of four men were playing bridge, while agroup of ladies sat talking and knitting.
A short distance away and nearer to the sea was another cabin, standing byitself and closed.
Half-a-dozen bare-legged children were paddling in the water.
"No," said Hortense, "all this autumnal sweetness and charm fails toattract me. I have so much faith in all your theories that I can't helpthinking, in spite of everything, of this dreadful problem. Which of thosepeople yonder is threatened? Death has already selected its victim. Who isit? Is it that young, fair-haired woman, rocking herself and laughing? Isit that tall man over there, smoking his cigar? And which of them has thethought of murder hidden in his heart? All the people we see are quietlyenjoying themselves. Yet death is prowling among them."
"Capital!" said Renine. "You too are becoming enthusiastic. What did I tellyou? The whole of life's an adventure; and nothing but adventure is worthwhile. At the first breath of coming events, there you are, quivering inevery nerve. You share in all the tragedies stirring around you; and thefeeling of mystery awakens in the depths of your being. See, how closelyyou are observing that couple who have just arrived. You never can tell:that may be the gentleman who proposes to do away with his wife? Or perhapsthe lady contemplates making away with her husband?"
"The d'Ormevals? Never! A perfectly happy couple! Yesterday, at the hotel,I had a long talk with the wife. And you yourself...."
"Oh, I played a round of golf with Jacques d'Ormeval, who rather fancieshimself as an athlete, and I played at dolls with their two charming littlegirls!"
The d'Ormevals came up and exchanged a few words with them. Madamed'Ormeval said that her two daughters had gone back to Paris that morningwith their governess. Her husband, a great tall fellow with a yellow beard,carrying his blazer over his arm and puffing out his chest under a cellularshirt, complained of the heat:
"Have you the key of the cabin, Therese?" he asked his wife, when they hadleft Renine and Hortense and stopped at the top of the stairs, a few yardsaway.
"Here it is," said the wife. "Are you going to read your papers?"
"Yes. Unless we go for a stroll?..."
"I had rather wait till the afternoon: do you mind? I have a lot of lettersto write this morning."
"Very well. We'll go on the cliff."
Hortense and Renine exchanged a glance of surprise. Was this suggestionaccidental? Or had they before them, contrary to their expectations, thevery couple of whom they were in search?
Hortense tried to laugh:
"My heart is thumping," she said. "Nevertheless, I absolutely refuse tobelieve in anything so improbable. 'My husband and I have never had theslightest quarrel,' she said to me. No, it's quite clear that those two geton admirably."
"We shall see presently, at the Trois Mathildes, if one of them comes tomeet the brother and sister."
M. d'Ormeval had gone down the stairs, while his wife stood leaning on thebalustrade of the terrace. She had a beautiful, slender, supple figure. Herclear-cut profile was emphasized by a rather too prominent chin when atrest; and, when it was not smiling, the face gave an expression of sadnessand suffering.
"Have you lost something, Jacques?" she called out to her husband, who wasstooping over the shingle.
"Yes, the key," he said. "It slipped out of my hand."
She went down to him and began to look also. For two or three minutes,as they sheered off to the right and remained close to the bottom of theunder-cliff, they were invisible to Hortense and Renine. Their voices werecovered by the noise of a dispute which had arisen among thebridge-players.
They reappeared almost simultaneously. Madame d'Ormeval slowly climbed afew steps of the stairs and then stopped and turned her face towards thesea. Her husband had thrown his blazer over his shoulders and was makingfor the isolated cabin. As he passed the bridge-players, they asked him fora decision, pointing to their cards spread out upon the table. But, with awave of the hand, he refused to give an opinion and walked on, covered thethirty yards which divided them from the cabin, opened the door and wentin.
Therese d'Ormeval came back to the terrace and remained for ten minutessitting on a bench. Then she came out through the casino. Hortense, onleaning forward, saw her entering one of the chalets annexed to the HotelHauville and, a moment later, caught sight of her again on the balcony.
"Eleven o'clock," said Renine. "Whoever it is, he or she, or one of thecard-players, or one of their wives, it won't be long before some one goesto the appointed place."
Nevertheless, twenty minutes passed and twenty-five; and no one stirred.
"Perhaps Madame d'Ormeval has gone." Hortense suggested, anxiously. "She isno longer on her balcony."
"If she is at the Trois Mathildes," said Renine, "we will go and catch herthere."
He was rising to his feet, when a fresh discussion broke out among thebridge-players and one of them exclaimed:
"Let's put it to d'Ormeval."
"Very well," said his adversary. "I'll accept his decision ... if heconsents to act as umpire. He was rather huffy just now."
They called out:
"D'Ormeval! D'Ormeval!"
They then saw that d'Ormeval must have shut the door behind him, which kepthim in the half dark, the cabin being one of the sort that has no window.
"He's asleep," cried one. "Let's wake him up."
All four went to the cabin, began by calling to him and, on receiving noanswer, thumped on the door:
"Hi! D'Ormeval! Are you asleep?"
>
On the terrace Serge Renine suddenly leapt to his feet with so uneasy anair that Hortense was astonished. He muttered:
"If only it's not too late!"
And, when Hortense asked him what he meant, he tore down the steps andstarted running to the cabin. He reached it just as the bridge-players weretrying to break in the door:
"Stop!" he ordered. "Things must be done in the regular fashion."
"What things?" they asked.
He examined the Venetian shutters at the top of each of the folding-doorsand, on finding that one of the upper slats was partly broken, hung on asbest he could to the roof of the cabin and cast a glance inside. Then hesaid to the four men:
"I was right in thinking that, if M. d'Ormeval did not reply, he must havebeen prevented by some serious cause. There is every reason to believe thatM. d'Ormeval is wounded ... or dead."
"Dead!" they cried. "What do you mean? He has only just left us."
Renine took out his knife, prized open the lock and pulled back the twodoors.
There were shouts of dismay. M. d'Ormeval was lying flat on his face,clutching his jacket and his newspaper in his hands. Blood was flowingfrom his back and staining his shirt.
"Oh!" said some one. "He has killed himself!"
"How can he have killed himself?" said Renine. "The wound is right in themiddle of the back, at a place which the hand can't reach. And, besides,there's not a knife in the cabin."
The others protested:
"If so, he has been murdered. But that's impossible! There has been nobodyhere. We should have seen, if there had been. Nobody could have passed uswithout our seeing...."
The other men, all the ladies and the children paddling in the sea had comerunning up. Renine allowed no one to enter the cabin, except a doctor whowas present. But the doctor could only say that M. d'Ormeval was dead,stabbed with a dagger.
At that moment, the mayor and the policeman arrived, together with somepeople of the village. After the usual enquiries, they carried away thebody.
A few persons went on ahead to break the news to Therese d'Ormeval, who wasonce more to be seen on her balcony.
* * * * *
And so the tragedy had taken place without any clue to explain how a man,protected by a closed door with an uninjured lock, could have been murderedin the space of a few minutes and in front of twenty witnesses, one mightalmost say, twenty spectators. No one had entered the cabin. No one hadcome out of it. As for the dagger with which M. d'Ormeval had been stabbedbetween the shoulders, it could not be traced. And all this would havesuggested the idea of a trick of sleight-of-hand performed by a cleverconjuror, had it not concerned a terrible murder, committed under the mostmysterious conditions.
Hortense was unable to follow, as Renine would have liked, the small partywho were making for Madame d'Ormeval; she was paralysed with excitement andincapable of moving. It was the first time that her adventures with Reninehad taken her into the very heart of the action and that, instead of notingthe consequences of a murder, or assisting in the pursuit of the criminals,she found herself confronted with the murder itself.
It left her trembling all over; and she stammered: "How horrible!... Thepoor fellow!... Ah, Renine, you couldn't save him this time!... And that'swhat upsets me more than anything, that we could and should have saved him,since we knew of the plot...."
Renine made her sniff at a bottle of salts; and when she had quiterecovered her composure, he said, while observing her attentively:
"So you think that there is some connection between the murder and theplot which we were trying to frustrate?"
"Certainly," said she, astonished at the question.
"Then, as that plot was hatched by a husband against his wife or by a wifeagainst her husband, you admit that Madame d'Ormeval ...?"
"Oh, no, impossible!" she said. "To begin with, Madame d'Ormeval did notleave her rooms ... and then I shall never believe that pretty womancapable.... No, no, of course there was something else...."
"What else?"
"I don't know.... You may have misunderstood what the brother and sisterwere saying to each other.... You see, the murder has been committed underquite different conditions ... at another hour and another place...."
"And therefore," concluded Renine, "the two cases are not in any wayrelated?"
"Oh," she said, "there's no making it out! It's all so strange!"
Renine became a little satirical:
"My pupil is doing me no credit to-day," he said. "Why, here is a perfectlysimple story, unfolded before your eyes. You have seen it reeled off likea scene in the cinema; and it all remains as obscure to you as though youwere hearing of an affair that happened in a cave a hundred miles away!"
Hortense was confounded:
"What are you saying? Do you mean that you have understood it? What clueshave you to go by?"
Renine looked at his watch:
"I have not understood everything," he said. "The murder itself, the merebrutal murder, yes. But the essential thing, that is to say, the psychologyof the crime: I've no clue to that. Only, it is twelve o'clock. The brotherand sister, seeing no one come to the appointment at the Trois Mathildes,will go down to the beach. Don't you think that we shall learn somethingthen of the accomplice whom I accuse them of having and of the connectionbetween the two cases?"
They reached the esplanade in front of the Hauville chalets, with thecapstans by which the fishermen haul up their boats to the beach. A numberof inquisitive persons were standing outside the door of one of thechalets. Two coastguards, posted at the door, prevented them from entering.
The mayor shouldered his way eagerly through the crowd. He was back fromthe post-office, where he had been telephoning to Le Havre, to the officeof the procurator-general, and had been told that the public prosecutorand an examining-magistrate would come on to Etretat in the course of theafternoon.
"That leaves us plenty of time for lunch," said Renine. "The tragedy willnot be enacted before two or three o'clock. And I have an idea that it willbe sensational."
They hurried nevertheless. Hortense, overwrought by fatigue and her desireto know what was happening, continually questioned Renine, who repliedevasively, with his eyes turned to the esplanade, which they could seethrough the windows of the coffee-room.
"Are you watching for those two?" asked Hortense.
"Yes, the brother and sister."
"Are you sure that they will venture?..."
"Look out! Here they come!"
He went out quickly.
Where the main street opened on the sea-front, a lady and gentleman wereadvancing with hesitating steps, as though unfamiliar with the place. Thebrother was a puny little man, with a sallow complexion. He was wearing amotoring-cap. The sister too was short, but rather stout, and was wrappedin a large cloak. She struck them as a woman of a certain age, but stillgood-looking under the thin veil that covered her face.
They saw the groups of bystanders and drew nearer. Their gait betrayeduneasiness and hesitation.
The sister asked a question of a seaman. At the first words of his answer,which no doubt conveyed the news of d'Ormeval's death, she uttered a cryand tried to force her way through the crowd. The brother, learning in histurn what had happened, made great play with his elbows and shouted to thecoast-guards:
"I'm a friend of d'Ormeval's!... Here's my card! Frederic Astaing.... Mysister, Germaine Astaing, knows Madame d'Ormeval intimately!... They wereexpecting us.... We had an appointment!..."
They were allowed to pass. Renine, who had slipped behind them, followedthem in without a word, accompanied by Hortense.
The d'Ormevals had four bedrooms and a sitting-room on the second floor.The sister rushed into one of the rooms and threw herself on her kneesbeside the bed on which the corpse lay stretched. Therese d'Ormeval was inthe sitting-room and was sobbing in the midst of a small company of silentpersons. The brother sat down beside her, eagerly seized her hands andsaid, in a trembling
voice:
"My poor friend!... My poor friend!..."
Renine and Hortense gazed at the pair of them: and Hortense whispered:
"And she's supposed to have killed him for that? Impossible!"
"Nevertheless," observed Renine, "they are acquaintances; and we know thatAstaing and his sister were also acquainted with a third person who wastheir accomplice. So that...."
"It's impossible!" Hortense repeated.
And, in spite of all presumption, she felt so much attracted by Theresethat, when Frederic Astaing stood up, she proceeded straightway to sit downbeside her and consoled her in a gentle voice. The unhappy woman's tearsdistressed her profoundly.
Renine, on the other hand, applied himself from the outset to watchingthe brother and sister, as though this were the only thing that mattered,and did not take his eyes off Frederic Astaing, who, with an air ofindifference, began to make a minute inspection of the premises, examiningthe sitting-room, going into all the bedrooms, mingling with the variousgroups of persons present and asking questions about the manner in whichthe murder had been committed. Twice his sister came up and spoke to him.Then he went back to Madame d'Ormeval and again sat down beside her, fullof earnest sympathy. Lastly, in the lobby, he had a long conversation withhis sister, after which they parted, like people who have come to a perfectunderstanding. Frederic then left. These manoeuvers had lasted quite thirtyor forty minutes.
It was at this moment that the motor-car containing theexamining-magistrate and the public prosecutor pulled up outside thechalets. Renine, who did not expect them until later, said to Hortense:
"We must be quick. On no account leave Madame d'Ormeval."
Word was sent up to the persons whose evidence might be of any servicethat they were to go to the beach, where the magistrate was beginning apreliminary investigation. He would call on Madame d'Ormeval afterwards.Accordingly, all who were present left the chalet. No one remained behindexcept the two guards and Germaine Astaing.
Germaine knelt down for the last time beside the dead man and, bending low,with her face in her hands, prayed for a long time. Then she rose and wasopening the door on the landing, when Renine came forward:
"I should like a few words with you, madame."
She seemed surprised and replied:
"What is it, monsieur? I am listening."
"Not here."
"Where then, monsieur?"
"Next door, in the sitting-room."
"No," she said, sharply.
"Why not? Though you did not even shake hands with her, I presume thatMadame d'Ormeval is your friend?"
He gave her no time to reflect, drew her into the next room, closed thedoor and, at once pouncing upon Madame d'Ormeval, who was trying to go outand return to her own room, said:
"No, madame, listen, I implore you. Madame Astaing's presence need notdrive you away. We have very serious matters to discuss, without losing aminute."
The two women, standing face to face, were looking at each other with thesame expression of implacable hatred, in which might be read the sameconfusion of spirit and the same restrained anger. Hortense, who believedthem to be friends and who might, up to a certain point, have believed themto be accomplices, foresaw with terror the hostile encounter which she feltto be inevitable. She compelled Madame d'Ormeval to resume her seat, whileRenine took up his position in the middle of the room and spoke in resolutetones:
"Chance, which has placed me in possession of part of the truth, willenable me to save you both, if you are willing to assist me with a frankexplanation that will give me the particulars which I still need. Each ofyou knows the danger in which she stands, because each of you is consciousin her heart of the evil for which she is responsible. But you arecarried away by hatred; and it is for me to see clearly and to act. Theexamining-magistrate will be here in half-an-hour. By that time, you musthave come to an agreement."
They both started, as though offended by such a word.
"Yes, an agreement," he repeated, in a more imperious tone. "Whether youlike it or not, you will come to an agreement. You are not the only ones tobe considered. There are your two little daughters, Madame d'Ormeval. Sincecircumstances have set me in their path, I am intervening in their defenceand for their safety. A blunder, a word too much; and they are ruined. Thatmust not happen."
At the mention of her children, Madame d'Ormeval broke down and sobbed.Germaine Astaing shrugged her shoulders and made a movement towards thedoor. Renine once more blocked the way:
"Where are you going?"
"I have been summoned by the examining-magistrate."
"No, you have not."
"Yes, I have. Just as all those have been who have any evidence to give."
"You were not on the spot. You know nothing of what happened. Nobody knowsanything of the murder."
"I know who committed it."
"That's impossible."
"It was Therese d'Ormeval."
The accusation was hurled forth in an outburst of rage and with a fiercelythreatening gesture.
"You wretched creature!" exclaimed madame d'Ormeval, rushing at her. "Go!Leave the room! Oh, what a wretch the woman is!"
Hortense was trying to restrain her, but Renine whispered:
"Let them be. It's what I wanted ... to pitch them one against the otherand so to let in the day-light."
Madame Astaing had made a convulsive effort to ward off the insult with ajest; and she sniggered:
"A wretched creature? Why? Because I have accused you?"
"Why? For every reason! You're a wretched creature! You hear what I say,Germaine: you're a wretch!"
Therese d'Ormeval was repeating the insult as though it afforded her somerelief. Her anger was abating. Very likely also she no longer had thestrength to keep up the struggle; and it was Madame Astaing who returnedto the attack, with her fists clenched and her face distorted and suddenlyaged by fully twenty years:
"You! You dare to insult me, you! You after the murder you have committed!You dare to lift up your head when the man whom you killed is lying inthere on his death-bed! Ah, if one of us is a wretched creature, it's you,Therese, and you know it! You have killed your husband! You have killedyour husband!"
She leapt forward, in the excitement of the terrible words which she wasuttering; and her finger-nails were almost touching her friend's face.
"Oh, don't tell me you didn't kill him!" she cried. "Don't saythat: I won't let you. Don't say it. The dagger is there, in yourbag. My brother felt it, while he was talking to you; and his handcame out with stains of blood upon it: your husband's blood, Therese. Andthen, even if I had not discovered anything, do you think that I should nothave guessed, in the first few minutes? Why, I knew the truth at once,Therese! When a sailor down there answered, 'M. d'Ormeval? He has beenmurdered,' I said to myself then and there, 'It's she, it's Therese, shekilled him.'"
Therese did not reply. She had abandoned her attitude of protest. Hortense,who was watching her with anguish, thought that she could perceive in herthe despondency of those who know themselves to be lost. Her cheeks hadfallen in and she wore such an expression of despair that Hortense, movedto compassion, implored her to defend herself:
"Please, please, explain things. When the murder was committed, you werehere, on the balcony.... But then the dagger ... how did you come to haveit ...? How do you explain it?..."
"Explanations!" sneered Germaine Astaing. "How could she possibly explain?What do outward appearances matter? What does it matter what any one sawor did not see? The proof is the thing that tells.... The dagger is there,in your bag, Therese: that's a fact.... Yes, yes, it was you who did it!You killed him! You killed him in the end!... Ah, how often I've told mybrother, 'She will kill him yet!' Frederic used to try to defend you. Healways had a weakness for you. But in his innermost heart he foresaw whatwould happen.... And now the horrible thing has been done. A stab in theback! Coward! Coward!... And you would have me say nothing? Why, I didn'thesitate a moment! Nor did Frederic. W
e looked for proofs at once.... AndI've denounced you of my own free will, perfectly well aware of what I wasdoing.... And it's over, Therese. You're done for. Nothing can save younow. The dagger is in that bag which you are clutching in your hand. Themagistrate is coming; and the dagger will be found, stained with the bloodof your husband. So will your pocket-book. They're both there. And theywill be found...."
Her rage had incensed her so vehemently that she was unable to continue andstood with her hand outstretched and her chin twitching with nervoustremors.
Renine gently took hold of Madame d'Ormeval's bag. She clung to it, but heinsisted and said:
"Please allow me, madame. Your friend Germaine is right. Theexamining-magistrate will be here presently; and the fact that the daggerand the pocket-book are in your possession will lead to your immediatearrest. This must not happen. Please allow me."
His insinuating voice diminished Therese d'Ormeval's resistance. Shereleased her fingers, one by one. He took the bag, opened it, produceda little dagger with an ebony handle and a grey leather pocket-book andquietly slipped the two into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Germaine Astaing gazed at him in amazement: "You're mad, monsieur! Whatright have you ...?"
"These things must not be left lying about. I sha'n't worry now. Themagistrate will never look for them in my pocket."
"But I shall denounce you to the police," she exclaimed, indignantly."They shall be told!"
"No, no," he said, laughing, "you won't say anything! The police havenothing to do with this. The quarrel between you must be settled inprivate. What an idea, to go dragging the police into every incident ofone's life!"
Madame Astaing was choking with fury:
"But you have no right to talk like this, monsieur! Who are you, after all?A friend of that woman's?"
"Since you have been attacking her, yes."
"But I'm only attacking her because she's guilty. For you can't deny it:she has killed her husband."
"I don't deny it," said Renine, calmly. "We are all agreed on that point.Jacques d'Ormeval was killed by his wife. But, I repeat, the police mustnot know the truth."
"They shall know it through me, monsieur, I swear they shall. That womanmust be punished: she has committed murder."
Renine went up to her and, touching her on the shoulder:
"You asked me just now by what right I was interfering. And you yourself,madame?"
"I was a friend of Jacques d'Ormeval."
"Only a friend?"
She was a little taken aback, but at once pulled herself together andreplied:
"I was his friend and it is my duty to avenge his death."
"Nevertheless, you will remain silent, as he did."
"He did not know, when he died."
"That's where you are wrong. He could have accused his wife, if he hadwished. He had ample time to accuse her; and he said nothing."
"Why?"
"Because of his children."
Madame Astaing was not appeased; and her attitude displayed the samelonging for revenge and the same detestation. But she was influenced byRenine in spite of herself. In the small, closed room, where there wassuch a clash of hatred, he was gradually becoming the master; and GermaineAstaing understood that it was against him that she had to struggle, whileMadame d'Ormeval felt all the comfort of that unexpected support which wasoffering itself on the brink of the abyss:
"Thank you, monsieur," she said. "As you have seen all this so clearly, youalso know that it was for my children's sake that I did not give myself up.But for that ... I am so tired ...!"
And so the scene was changing and things assuming a different aspect.Thanks to a few words let fall in the midst of the dispute, the culprit waslifting her head and taking heart, whereas her accuser was hesitating andseemed to be uneasy. And it also came about that the accuser dared not sayanything further and that the culprit was nearing the moment at which theneed is felt of breaking silence and of speaking, quite naturally, wordsthat are at once a confession and a relief.
"The time, I think, has come," said Renine to Therese, with the sameunvarying gentleness, "when you can and ought to explain yourself."
She was again weeping, lying huddled in a chair. She too revealed a faceaged and ravaged by sorrow; and, in a very low voice, with no display ofanger, she spoke, in short, broken sentences:
"She has been his mistress for the last four years.... I can't tell you howI suffered.... She herself told me of it ... out of sheer wickedness ...Her loathing for me was even greater than her love for Jacques ... andevery day I had some fresh injury to bear ... She would ring me up to tellme of her appointments with my husband ... she hoped to make me suffer somuch I should end by killing myself.... I did think of it sometimes, but Iheld out, for the children's sake ... Jacques was weakening. She wanted himto get a divorce ... and little by little he began to consent ... dominatedby her and by her brother, who is slyer than she is, but quite as dangerous... I felt all this ... Jacques was becoming harsh to me.... He had not thecourage to leave me, but I was the obstacle and he bore me a grudge....Heavens, the tortures I suffered!..."
"You should have given him his liberty," cried Germaine Astaing. "A womandoesn't kill her husband for wanting a divorce."
Therese shook her head and answered:
"I did not kill him because he wanted a divorce. If he had really wantedit, he would have left me; and what could I have done? But your plans hadchanged, Germaine; divorce was not enough for you; and it was somethingelse that you would have obtained from him, another, much more seriousthing which you and your brother had insisted on ... and to which he hadconsented ... out of cowardice ... in spite of himself...."
"What do you mean?" spluttered Germaine. "What other thing?"
"My death."
"You lie!" cried Madame Astaing.
Therese did not raise her voice. She made not a movement of aversion orindignation and simply repeated:
"My death, Germaine. I have read your latest letters, six letters from youwhich he was foolish enough to leave about in his pocket-book and which Iread last night, six letters in which the terrible word is not set down,but in which it appears between every line. I trembled as I read it! ThatJacques should come to this!... Nevertheless the idea of stabbing him didnot occur to me for a second. A woman like myself, Germaine, does notreadily commit murder.... If I lost my head, it was after that ... and itwas your fault...."
She turned her eyes to Renine as if to ask him if there was no danger inher speaking and revealing the truth.
"Don't be afraid," he said. "I will be answerable for everything."
She drew her hand across her forehead. The horrible scene was beingreenacted within her and was torturing her. Germaine Astaing did not move,but stood with folded arms and anxious eyes, while Hortense Daniel satdistractedly awaiting the confession of the crime and the explanation ofthe unfathomable mystery.
"It was after that and it was through your fault Germaine ... I had putback the pocket-book in the drawer where it was hidden; and I said nothingto Jacques this morning ... I did not want to tell him what I knew....It was too horrible.... All the same, I had to act quickly; your lettersannounced your secret arrival to-day.... I thought at first of runningaway, of taking the train.... I had mechanically picked up that dagger,to defend myself.... But when Jacques and I went down to the beach, I wasresigned.... Yes, I had accepted death: 'I will die,' I thought, 'and putan end to all this nightmare!'... Only, for the children's sake, I wasanxious that my death should look like an accident and that Jacques shouldhave no part in it. That was why your plan of a walk on the cliff suitedme.... A fall from the top of a cliff seems quite natural ... Jacquestherefore left me to go to his cabin, from which he was to join you laterat the Trois Mathildes. On the way, below the terrace, he dropped the keyof the cabin. I went down and began to look for it with him ... And ithappened then ... through your fault ... yes, Germaine, through your fault... Jacques' pocket-book had slipped from his jacket, without his n
oticingit, and, together with the pocket-book, a photograph which I recognizedat once: a photograph, taken this year, of myself and my two children. Ipicked it up ... and I saw.... You know what I saw, Germaine. Instead of myface, the face in the photograph was _yours_!... You had put in yourlikeness, Germaine, and blotted me out! It was your face! One of your armswas round my elder daughter's neck; and the younger was sitting on yourknees.... It was you, Germaine, the wife of my husband, the future motherof my children, you, who were going to bring them up ... you, you! ... ThenI lost my head. I had the dagger ... Jacques was stooping ... I stabbedhim...."
Every word of her confession was strictly true. Those who listened to herfelt this profoundly; and nothing could have given Hortense and Renine akeener impression of tragedy.
She had fallen back into her chair, utterly exhausted. Nevertheless, shewent on speaking unintelligible words; and it was only gradually by leaningover her, that they were able to make out:
"I thought that there would be an outcry and that I should be arrested. Butno. It happened in such a way and under such conditions that no one hadseen anything. Further, Jacques had drawn himself up at the same time asmyself; and he actually did not fall. No, he did not fall! I had stabbedhim; and he remained standing! I saw him from the terrace, to which I hadreturned. He had hung his jacket over his shoulders, evidently to hide hiswound, and he moved away without staggering ... or staggering so littlethat I alone was able to perceive it. He even spoke to some friends whowere playing cards. Then he went to his cabin and disappeared.... In a fewmoments, I came back indoors. I was persuaded that all of this was only abad dream ... that I had not killed him ... or that at the worst the woundwas a slight one. Jacques would come out again. I was certain of it.... Iwatched from my balcony.... If I had thought for a moment that he neededassistance, I should have flown to him.... But truly I didn't know ... Ididn't guess.... People speak of presentiments: there are no such things. Iwas perfectly calm, just as one is after a nightmare of which the memory isfading away.... No, I swear to you, I knew nothing ... until the moment..."
She interrupted herself, stifled by sobs.
Renine finished her sentence for her,
"Until the moment when they came and told you, I suppose?"
Therese stammered:
"Yes. It was not till then that I was conscious of what I had done ... andI felt that I was going mad and that I should cry out to all those people,'Why, it was I who did it! Don't search! Here is the dagger ... I am theculprit!' Yes, I was going to say that, when suddenly I caught sight ofmy poor Jacques.... They were carrying him along.... His face was verypeaceful, very gentle.... And, in his presence, I understood my duty, as hehad understood his.... He had kept silent, for the sake of the children.I would be silent too. We were both guilty of the murder of which he wasthe victim; and we must both do all we could to prevent the crime fromrecoiling upon them.... He had seen this clearly in his dying agony. Hehad had the amazing courage to keep his feet, to answer the people whospoke to him and to lock himself up to die. He had done this, wiping outall his faults with a single action, and in so doing had granted me hisforgiveness, because he was not accusing me ... and was ordering me to holdmy peace ... and to defend myself ... against everybody ... especiallyagainst you, Germaine."
She uttered these last words more firmly. At first wholly overwhelmed bythe unconscious act which she had committed in killing her husband, shehad recovered her strength a little in thinking of what she had done andin defending herself with such energy. Faced by the intriguing woman whosehatred had driven both of them to death and crime, she clenched her fists,ready for the struggle, all quivering with resolution.
Germaine Astaing did not flinch. She had listened without a word, with arelentless expression which grew harder and harder as Therese's confessionsbecame precise. No emotion seemed to soften her and no remorse to penetrateher being. At most, towards the end, her thin lips shaped themselves into afaint smile. She was holding her prey in her clutches.
Slowly, with her eyes raised to a mirror, she adjusted her hat and powderedher face. Then she walked to the door.
Therese darted forward:
"Where are you going?"
"Where I choose."
"To see the examining-magistrate?"
"Very likely."
"You sha'n't pass!"
"As you please. I'll wait for him here."
"And you'll tell him what?"
"Why, all that you've said, of course, all that you've been silly enoughto say. How could he doubt the story? You have explained it all to me sofully."
Therese took her by the shoulders:
"Yes, but I'll explain other things to him at the same time, Germaine,things that concern you. If I'm ruined, so shall you be."
"You can't touch me."
"I can expose you, show your letters."
"What letters?"
"Those in which my death was decided on."
"Lies, Therese! You know that famous plot exists only in your imagination.Neither Jacques nor I wished for your death."
"You did, at any rate. Your letters condemn you."
"Lies! They were the letters of a friend to a friend."
"Letters of a mistress to her paramour."
"Prove it."
"They are there, in Jacques' pocket-book."
"No, they're not."
"What's that you say?"
"I say that those letters belonged to me. I've taken them back, or rathermy brother has."
"You've stolen them, you wretch! And you shall give them back again," criedTherese, shaking her.
"I haven't them. My brother kept them. He has gone."
Therese staggered and stretched out her hands to Renine with an expressionof despair. Renine said:
"What she says is true. I watched the brother's proceedings while he wasfeeling in your bag. He took out the pocket-book, looked through it withhis sister, came and put it back again and went off with the letters."
Renine paused and added,
"Or, at least, with five of them."
The two women moved closer to him. What did he intend to convey? IfFrederic Astaing had taken away only five letters, what had become of thesixth?
"I suppose," said Renine, "that, when the pocket-book fell on the shingle,that sixth letter slipped out at the same time as the photograph and thatM. d'Ormeval must have picked it up, for I found it in the pocket of hisblazer, which had been hung up near the bed. Here it is. It's signedGermaine Astaing and it is quite enough to prove the writer's intentionsand the murderous counsels which she was pressing upon her lover."
Madame Astaing had turned grey in the face and was so much disconcertedthat she did not try to defend herself. Renine continued, addressing hisremarks to her:
"To my mind, madame, you are responsible for all that happened. Penniless,no doubt, and at the end of your resources, you tried to profit by thepassion with which you inspired M. d'Ormeval in order to make him marryyou, in spite of all the obstacles, and to lay your hands upon his fortune.I have proofs of this greed for money and these abominable calculations andcan supply them if need be. A few minutes after I had felt in the pocket ofthat jacket, you did the same. I had removed the sixth letter, but had lefta slip of paper which you looked for eagerly and which also must havedropped out of the pocket-book. It was an uncrossed cheque for a hundredthousand francs, drawn by M. d'Ormeval in your brother's name ... just alittle wedding-present ... what we might call pin-money. Acting on yourinstructions, your brother dashed off by motor to Le Havre to reach thebank before four o'clock. I may as well tell you that he will not havecashed the cheque, for I had a telephone-message sent to the bank toannounce the murder of M. d'Ormeval, which stops all payments. The upshotof all this is that the police, if you persist in your schemes of revenge,will have in their hands all the proofs that are wanted against you andyour brother. I might add, as an edifying piece of evidence, the story ofthe conversation which I overheard between your brother and yourself in adining-
car on the railway between Brest and Paris, a fortnight ago. But Ifeel sure that you will not drive me to adopt these extreme measures andthat we understand each other. Isn't that so?"
Natures like Madame Astaing's, which are violent and headstrong so long asa fight is possible and while a gleam of hope remains, are easily swayed indefeat. Germaine was too intelligent not to grasp the fact that the leastattempt at resistance would be shattered by such an adversary as this. Shewas in his hands. She could but yield.
She therefore did not indulge in any play-acting, nor in any demonstrationsuch as threats, outbursts of fury or hysterics. She bowed:
"We are agreed," she said. "What are your terms?"
"Go away. If ever you are called upon for your evidence, say that you knownothing."
She walked away. At the door, she hesitated and then, between her teeth,said:
"The cheque."
Renine looked at Madame d'Ormeval, who declared:
"Let her keep it. I would not touch that money."
* * * * *
When Renine had given Therese d'Ormeval precise instructions as to how shewas to behave at the enquiry and to answer the questions put to her, heleft the chalet, accompanied by Hortense Daniel.
On the beach below, the magistrate and the public prosecutor werecontinuing their investigations, taking measurements, examining thewitnesses and generally laying their heads together.
"When I think," said Hortense, "that you have the dagger and M. d'Ormeval'spocket-book on you!"
"And it strikes you as awfully dangerous, I suppose?" he said, laughing."It strikes _me_ as awfully comic."
"Aren't you afraid?"
"Of what?"
"That they may suspect something?"
"Lord, they won't suspect a thing! We shall tell those good people whatwe saw and our evidence will only increase their perplexity, for we sawnothing at all. For prudence sake we will stay a day or two, to see whichway the wind is blowing. But it's quite settled: they will never be able tomake head or tail of the matter."
"Nevertheless, _you_ guessed the secret and from the first. Why?"
"Because, instead of seeking difficulties where none exist, as peoplegenerally do, I always put the question as it should be put; and thesolution comes quite naturally. A man goes to his cabin and locks himselfin. Half an hour later, he is found inside, dead. No one has gone in. Whathas happened? To my mind there is only one answer. There is no need tothink about it. As the murder was not committed in the cabin, it must havebeen committed beforehand and the man was already mortally wounded whenhe entered his cabin. And forthwith the truth in this particular caseappeared to me. Madame d'Ormeval, who was to have been killed this evening,forestalled her murderers and while her husband was stooping to the ground,in a moment of frenzy stabbed him in the back. There was nothing left to dobut look for the reasons that prompted her action. When I knew them, I tookher part unreservedly. That's the whole story."
The day was beginning to wane. The blue of the sky was becoming darker andthe sea, even more peaceful than before.
"What are you thinking of?" asked Renine, after a moment.
"I am thinking," she said, "that if I too were the victim of somemachination, I should trust you whatever happened, trust you through andagainst all. I know, as certainly as I know that I exist, that you wouldsave me, whatever the obstacles might be. There is no limit to the powerof your will."
He said, very softly:
"There is no limit to my wish to please you."