VI
IN THE OPPOSITE SENSE
When Jerome Fandor had been precipitated into the Seine so unexpectedlyand with such violence he kept control of his wits: he did not utter acry as he fell head foremost into the darkling river. He was anexcellent swimmer: all aching as he was, he let himself go with thecurrent and presently reached the sheltering arch of the Pont Neuf.There he took breath for a minute:
"Queer!" was all he murmured. Then with regular strokes he made for thesteep bank of the Seine opposite. Quitting the river, he secretedhimself behind a heap of stones which lay on the quay. He took off hissoaked garments and wrung the water out of them. This done, and clad inwhat looked like dry clothes, Fandor walked along the quay, hailed apassing cabman half asleep on his seat, jumped inside, and gave hisaddress to the Jehu.
* * * * *
When he arrived at _La Capitale_ on the Friday morning a boy approachedhim, and whispered mysteriously:
"Monsieur Fandor, there's a very nice little woman in the sitting-room,who has been waiting for over an hour. She wishes to see you. She willnot give her name: she declares that you know who she is."
"What is she like?" Fandor asked. His curiosity was not much aroused.
"Pretty, fair, all in black," replied the boy.
"Good. I'll go in," interrupted Fandor.
He entered the sitting-room and stood face to face with MademoiselleElizabeth Dollon. She came forward, her eyes shining, her face alightwith welcome:
"Ah, monsieur," she cried, taking his hands in hers, a movement of puregratitude: "Ah, monsieur, I knew you would come to my help! I have readyour article of yesterday. Thank you again and again! But, I imploreyou, since my brother is alive, tell me where I can see him! For mercy'ssake don't keep me waiting!"
Surprise kept Fandor silent a moment.
_La Capitale_ had published the evening before a sensational article byFandor, in which, under the guise of suppositions and interrogations, hehad narrated the various adventures as they had happened to himself,concluding with the question--really an ironical one: "If JacquesDollon, who had disappeared from his cell, where he had been left fordead, had escaped from the Depot by way of the famous chimney of MarieAntoinette, had reached the roof of the Palais, had redescended byanother passageway to the sewer opening on to the Seine, did it not seempossible that Dollon had escaped alive from the Depot?"
Fandor had indulged in a gentle irony, despite the gravity of thecircumstances, in order to complicate the already complicated affair,and so plunge the police into a confusion worse confounded: this, inspite of his conviction that Dollon was dead, dead as dead could be!
Now the cruelty of this professional game was brought home to him. Hisarticle had raised fresh hopes in Dollon's poor sister! At sight of thischarming girl, brightened with hope, Fandor felt all pity and guilt. Hepressed her hands; he hesitated; he was troubled. He did not know how toexplain. At last he murmured:
"It was wrong of me, mademoiselle, very wrong to write that article insuch a way without warning you beforehand. Alas! You must not cherishillusions, illusions which this unfortunate article has given rise to,illusions I cannot believe in myself. I speak with all the sincerity ofwhich I am capable, with the keenest desire to be of service to you: Idare not let you buoy yourself up with false hopes.... I assure youthen, that from what I have been able to learn, to see, to know, I amconvinced that your unfortunate brother is no more!... If there havebeen moments when I have doubted this, I am now morally certain that heis dead. Take courage, mademoiselle! Try, try to forget--to--to ..."
Fandor was trembling with emotion: he could not continue. Elizabeth benther head, her eyes full of tears. She could not speak. She was overcomeby this cruel dashing to the ground of her hopes. Never, never, to seeher brother again!
An agonising silence reigned.
Fandor was profoundly troubled by this mute grief. He sought in vain forsome word of comfort, of encouragement.
Elizabeth rose to go. The poor girl realised that nothing could begained by prolonging the interview. Her one need now was to be alone,for then she could weep.
Fandor was about to accompany her to the door, when a boy entered:
"Monsieur Fandor, there's a man wishes to speak to you!"
"Say I am not here," replied our journalist: he had no wish to seestrangers just then.
"But Monsieur Fandor, he says he is the keeper of the landing stage ofthe passenger boat service, and he comes with reference to the Dollonaffair!"
Both Elizabeth Dollon and Jerome Fandor started. She was trembling. Ourjournalist said at once:
"Bring him in then!"
The boy went off, and Fandor turned to the trembling girl.
"Tell me, Mademoiselle Elizabeth, do you feel equal to hearing whatthis man has to tell us? It is not improbable that he has seensomething--something it would be best you should not hear--had you notbetter avoid it?"
Elizabeth shook her head in the negative. She was collecting all herforces: she would not remain ignorant of any detail of the terribletragedy which had cost her brother so dear:
"I shall be strong enough," she announced firmly.
The boy ushered in the visitor. He looked a good specimen of his class,a man about forty. On his cap were the gold anchors of those in theemploy of the Paris boat service.
"Monsieur!... Madame!... At your service!" The good fellow was very muchembarrassed:
"Monsieur Fandor," he went on, "you do not know me, but I know you verywell, that I do!... I read your articles every day in _La Capitale_.They're jolly good! What I say is ..."
Fandor cut short his admirer: "Now tell me what brings you here!"
"Oh, well, here goes! I was reading your article yesterday, about howJacques Dollon, no more dead than you or I, had escaped over the roofsof the Palais de Justice. That made me laugh, because I am the keeper ofthe landing stage at the Pont Neuf Station. This affair is supposed tohave happened in my parts, don't you see?... Well, I had just come tothe bit where you also suppose that the corpse might easily have beendevoured by rats inside the sewer.... Well, Monsieur Fandor, I canassure you that it was nothing of the sort...."
The journalist was all eyes and ears. He signed to Elizabeth that shemust keep quiet, so as not to intimidate the good fellow.
"Come now, what is it you have seen?"
"What I've seen?... Why, I saw Dollon break bounds!"
At this statement Elizabeth grew white as a sheet. She jumped up, andwith clasped hands rushed towards the keeper:
"Speak, speak quickly, I implore you!" she cried.
Fandor drew Elizabeth back gently, and whispered a few words to her. Heturned to the keeper:
"Mademoiselle has also come to make a statement regarding this affair,"he explained. "That is why she is so interested in what you have justtold us.... But tell us how you saw Jacques Dollon escape!"
"Well, I had got up a bit earlier than usual to see that the anchors andmooring were all right, and I thought I saw what looked like a bigbundle fall into the river from the sewer opening--only I was halfasleep and didn't take much notice; for, what with all the rain we'vebeen having, there's no end of filthy stuff tumbling out of the mouth ofthe sewers. But, a few minutes after that, I noticed that the bundle,instead of going with the flow of the current, was drifting across theSeine, plainly making for the bank. There could be no mistake aboutthat!"
Elizabeth Dollon cried:
"And then? And then?"
"Then, my little lady, what if this surprise packet didn't turn offbehind an arch of the Pont-Neuf! I didn't see what became of it--but noone will get it out of my head that it isn't some jolly dog who had nowish to show himself--that's what I think!"
The keeper paused, then went on:
"That's all I have to tell you, Monsieur Fandor ... it might serve forone of your articles some time or other ... only you mustn't say that Itold you. I might get into trouble with my chiefs about it!"
Elizabeth D
ollon was no longer listening. She had turned to Fandor, andwith shining eyes murmured:
"He lives!... He lives!..."
Fandor thanked the keeper, and got rid of him. Directly the door closedon him he darted to Elizabeth:
"Poor child!" he cried, full of pity for her.
"Ah! Don't pity me! I don't need your pity now!... My brother isalive!... That man has seen him!"
Fandor had to undeceive her:
"Your brother is certainly dead," he declared. "If he were theindividual in question, it would not have been yesterday morning,but the morning before that, when the keeper saw him; and I doassure you ..."
"But this good fellow is telling the truth then?"
"I assure you that I have good reasons, the best of reasons, forbelieving, for being certain, that the swimmer who crossed the Seine wasnot your brother!"
"Great Heaven! Who was it then?"
Fandor hesitated a moment.... Should he divulge his secret? All he saidwas:
"It was not your brother--I know that!"
So decisive was his tone, so great the sympathy vibrating through hiswords, that Elizabeth Dollon, once more convinced that Fandor was notspeaking at random, bent her head and shed tears of deepest grief andbitter disappointment.
Fandor allowed the sorrow-stricken girl to give way to her grief for afew minutes; then he gently asked her:
"Mademoiselle Elizabeth, shall we have a little talk?... You see Isimply cannot tell you everything, yet I would gladly help you!... Butfirst and foremost, I beg of you to put quite out of your mind this hopethat your brother is still alive!..."
Sadly Elizabeth wiped away her tears, and in a voice which she tried tosteady, said:
"Oh, what is to become of me! I thought I had found in you a support, ahelp, and now you abandon me! And I had put my faith in your goodness ofheart!... There are your articles on the one hand, and your attitude onthe other--what am I to make of it? It is driving me to despair! And ifyou only knew how much I need to be supported, encouraged; I feel as ifI should go out of my senses--out of my mind ... and I am alone, soterribly alone!"
The poor girl's voice was broken by sobs, her whole body was shaken bythem. Fandor went up to her, and spoke to her in a low toneaffectionately: he felt great sympathy and an immense pity for thisunhappy young creature, who charmed and attracted him. He tried toconsole her, and to change the current of her thoughts:
"Come now, Mademoiselle, do try to control yourself a little! I havepromised to help you, and I certainly shall--you may be sure of it. Butconsider now--if I am to be of real use to you, I must know a littleabout you: you, yourself, your family, your brother; who your friendsare, and who are your enemies! I must enter into your existence, not asa judge, but as a comrade who is interested in all that concerns you.Will you not confide in me? Once I know what there is to know we mightthen unite our efforts to some purpose, and find out what really hashappened, since the mystery remains inexplicable."
Elizabeth Dollon felt the young man was sincere, and that what he saidin such a gentle voice was true.
This poor human waif asked no more than to be allowed to cling towhoever would take pity on her and be kind. She now spoke to JeromeFandor of her childhood without suspecting in the least that the sameJerome Fandor--Charles Rambert--used to play with her in those days.[7]
[Footnote 7: See _Fantomas_.]
She mentioned the assassination of the Marquise de Langrune--the firsttragic episode of her life; then had come the horrible death of herfather, old Steward Dollon, who had passed from the service of theMarquise to that of the Baroness de Vibray, and then perished, thevictim of a criminal.
She explained how Jacques Dollon and she had come to settle in Paris,feeling themselves rich on the savings they had inherited from theirparents. Elizabeth had become a dressmaker, and Jacques had become anartist-craftsman. Gradually the young man's talent and industry hadenabled his sister to leave her workroom and come to live with him. Hisreputation was a growing one, and the two young people looked forward toan existence of honest comfort in the near future. They got to know somepeople, one or two of whom were rich, and had shown their interest inthe brother and sister.
Jerome Fandor interrupted her:
"You always remained on good terms with the Baroness de Vibray?"
At this question the girl's eyes flashed:
"They have put into print shameful things about this poor dear Baroness,and about my brother also. The papers have represented her as eccentric,as mad; they have said worse things than that, you know that, don'tyou?... They have declared that there was a very intimate relationbetween her and my brother--I cannot say more--it is too hateful! It isall false--as false as false can be! The Baroness was particularlyinterested in Jacques, but assuredly that was owing to the long standingrelations between her family and ours.... The suicide of the Baronesshas been a sad addition to my grief, for I was very fond of her!..."
Fandor had been listening attentively to Elizabeth's story. He now said:
"You have used the word 'suicide,' mademoiselle: do you then reallythink, as everyone seems to do, that your patroness killed herself ofher own free will?"
Elizabeth reflected a minute before replying:
"That was what she wrote--and one must believe that, nevertheless ..."
"Nevertheless?"
Elizabeth hesitated, passed her hand over her forehead, then said:
"Nevertheless, Monsieur Fandor, the more I think over this death, themore remarkable it seems. The Baroness de Vibray was not the kind ofperson to commit suicide, even if she were unhappy, even if she wereruined. I have often heard her speak of her money affairs; she even usedto joke about the expostulations of her bankers, MessieursBarbey-Nanteuil, because she was too fond of gambling. That was our poorfriend's weakness: she was a dreadful gambler: she was always betting onhorses and gambling on the Bourse."[8]
[Footnote 8: Stock Exchange.]
"Do you know the Barbey-Nanteuils at all, mademoiselle?"
"A little. I have met them once or twice at Madame de Vibray's--when shehad one of her little evenings. Once or twice my brother has asked theiradvice about investments--very modest investments I can assure you--andthey got one of their friends, a Monsieur Thomery, to buy some of mybrother's art pottery."
"Have you many acquaintances in Paris, mademoiselle?"
"Besides the Baroness we hardly saw anyone except Madame Bourrat, a verynice, kind woman, widow of an inspector of the City of Paris; she keepsa boarding-house at Auteuil, rue Raffet. In fact, I am staying with hernow, for I had not the courage to go back to my brother's place: toomany dreadful memories are connected with his studio there. I am luckyto find such a sympathetic friend in Madame Bourrat, and such a warmwelcome.... I am alone now, and life is sad."
Fandor went on with his cross-examination:
"Nevertheless, mademoiselle, I must ask you to return in thought to thattragic home of yours. Please tell me what people you knew in yourimmediate neighbourhood? Acquaintances?"
Elizabeth considered:
"Acquaintances is the word, because we were not on really intimate termswith our neighbours in the Cite; for the most part they are either artstudents or work-people. However, we saw fairly often a nice man, astranger, a Dutchman I think he was, called Monsieur Van Hoeren; hemanufactures accordions; and lives in a little house opposite ours, withsix children; he has been a widower for years! Also there was a MonsieurLouis, an engraver, who used to take tea with us in the eveningsometimes, his wife also: he is employed in the Posts and Telegraphs. Wehad practically no other acquaintances."
Elizabeth stopped. There was a silence. Fandor asked another question:
"Tell me, mademoiselle, when you entered the studio for the first timeafter the tragedy, did you notice anything abnormal?"
The poor girl shuddered at the appalling picture before her mind's eye:
"Good Heavens, monsieur," she cried, "I did not examine the studiominutely! I had only one thought--to be with my bro
ther, who had been sounjustly accused, so ..."
Fandor interrupted to ask:
"Do you not know that at his preliminary examination your brotherdeclared that he had not received a single visitor during the eveningpreceding the tragedy? How then do you explain the fact that theBaroness de Vibray was found dead in his studio, and at his side, whenno one had seen her enter it? Did your brother make a mistake? Pleasetell me what you think about it!"
Elizabeth gazed anxiously at the young journalist, then fixed her eyeson the floor. Her hands twitched; she began to twist her fingersfeverishly:
"Do trust me!" begged Jerome Fandor. "Please tell me what you think!"
Elizabeth rose, took several steps, and placed herself in front of thejournalist:
"Ah, monsieur, there is something mysterious, which I cannot explain! Asa matter of fact, someone must have come to see my brother that evening:I cannot assert it as a fact beyond dispute certainly: but in my ownmind I feel quite sure about it."
"But you must have more proof of it than that?" cried Fandor.
"But--there is more!" cried Elizabeth, as if enlightened by a suddendiscovery: "There is a fact!..."
"Tell me, do!" cried Fandor, intensely interested.
"Well, just imagine, then! Among the papers scattered over his table,and close to his book, which was open, I noticed a sort of list of namesand addresses, written on our own note-paper, and in the kind of greenink we use--so--well ..."
"So," interrupted the journalist, "you came to the conclusion that thislist had been written at your brother's house?"
"Yes, and it was not my brother's handwriting."
"Nor that of the Baroness de Vibray?"
"Nor that of the Baroness de Vibray!"
"And what did this list contain?"
"Names, addresses, I tell you, of persons we knew. There were also twoor three dates...."
"And is that all?"
"That is all, monsieur: I saw nothing else!"
"Little enough," murmured Fandor, disappointed. "Still no detail,however slight, must be ignored!... What have you done with that list,mademoiselle?"
"I must have taken it with me when I collected all the papers I couldfind the day before yesterday, before going to the boarding-house atAuteuil."
"When you have an opportunity, will you bring me that list?" requestedFandor.
* * * * *
The conversation was interrupted. A boy came to tell Fandor that he waswanted on the telephone by someone in the Public Prosecutor's Office.
* * * * *
Later on in the day Jerome Fandor sent the following express message toElizabeth Dollon:
_"Do not believe a word of the Police Headquarters' version which you will read in this evening's 'La Capitale.'"_
This despatched, our journalist commenced his article entitled:
STILL THE AFFAIR OF THE RUE NORVINS
_Police Headquarters takes a view of this affair which is the very reverse of that taken by our contributor, Jerome Fandor._
_By the Seine sewer, the roofs of the Palace, and the chimney of Marie Antoinette, an inspector has succeeded in reaching the Depot._
_Police Headquarters is convinced that Jacques Dollon escaped alive!_