CHAPTER IV
BEFORE THE FLAMES
Little Mother Coralie! Coralie concealed in this house into which herassailants had forced their way and in which she herself was hiding,through force of circumstances which were incapable of explanation.
His first idea, which would at least have solved one of the riddles, wasthat she also had entered from the lane, gone into the house by thesteps and in this way opened a passage for him. But, in that case, howhad she procured the means of carrying out this enterprise? And, aboveall, what brought her here?
All these questions occurred to Captain Belval's mind without his tryingto reply to them. He was far too much impressed by the absorbedexpression on Coralie's face. Moreover, a second cry, even wilder thanthe first, came from below; and he saw the victim's face writhing beforethe red curtain of fire from the hearth.
But, this time, Patrice, held back by Coralie's presence, had noinclination to go to the sufferer's assistance. He decided to modelhimself entirely upon her and not to move or do anything to attract herattention.
"Easy!" the leader commanded. "Pull him back. I expect he's hadenough."
He went up to the victim:
"Well, my dear Essares," he asked, "what do you think of it? Are youhappy? And, you know, we're only beginning. If you don't speak, we shallgo on to the end, as the real _chauffeurs_ used to do in the days of theRevolution. So it's settled, I presume: you're going to speak?"
There was no answer. The leader rapped out an oath and went on:
"What do you mean? Do you refuse? But, you obstinate brute, don't youunderstand the situation? Or have you a glimmer of hope? Hope, indeed!You're mad. Who would rescue you? Your servants? The porter, the footmanand the butler are in my pay. I gave them a week's notice. They're goneby now. The housemaid? The cook? They sleep at the other end of thehouse; and you yourself have told me, time after time, that one can'thear anything over there. Who else? Your wife? Her room also is faraway; and she hasn't heard anything either? Simeon, your old secretary?We made him fast when he opened the front door to us just now. Besides,we may as well finish the job here. Bournef!"
The man with the big mustache, who was still holding the chair, drewhimself up.
"Bournef, where did you lock up the secretary?"
"In the porter's lodge."
"You know where to find Mme. Essares' bedroom?"
"Yes, you told me the way."
"Go, all four of you, and bring the lady and the secretary here!"
The four men went out by a door below the spot where Coralie wasstanding. They were hardly out of sight when the leader stooped eagerlyover his victim and said:
"We're alone, Essares. It's what I intended. Let's make the most of it."
He bent still lower and whispered so that Patrice found it difficult tohear what he said:
"Those men are fools. I twist them round my finger and tell them no moreof my plans than I can help. You and I, on the other hand, Essares, arethe men to come to terms. That is what you refused to admit; and you seewhere it has landed you. Come, Essares, don't be obstinate and don'tshuffle. You are caught in a trap, you are helpless, you are absolutelyin my power. Well, rather than allow yourself to be broken down bytortures which would certainly end by overcoming your resistance, strikea bargain with me. We'll go halves, shall we? Let's make peace and treatupon that basis. I'll give you a hand in my game and you'll give me onein yours. As allies, we are bound to win. As enemies, who knows whetherthe victor will surmount all the obstacles that will still stand in hispath? That's why I say again, halves! Answer me. Yes or no."
He loosened the gag and listened. This time, Patrice did not hear thefew words which the victim uttered. But the other, the leader, almostimmediately burst into a rage:
"Eh? What's that you're proposing? Upon my word, but you're a cool hand!An offer of this kind to me! That's all very well for Bournef or hisfellows. They'll understand, they will. But it won't do for me, it won'tdo for Colonel Fakhi. No, no, my friend, I open my mouth wider! I'llconsent to go halves, but accept an alms, never!"
Patrice listened eagerly and, at the same time, kept his eyes onCoralie, whose face still contorted with anguish, wore an expression ofthe same rapt attention. And he looked back at the victim, part of whosebody was reflected in the glass above the mantelpiece. The man wasdressed in a braided brown-velvet smoking-suit and appeared to be aboutfifty years of age, quite bald, with a fleshy face, a large hooked nose,eyes deep set under a pair of thick eyebrows and puffy cheeks coveredwith a thick grizzled beard. Patrice was also able to examine hisfeatures more closely in a portrait of him which hung to the left of thefireplace, between the first and second windows, and which represented astrong, powerful countenance with an almost fierce expression.
"It's an Eastern face," said Patrice to himself. "I've seen heads likethat in Egypt and Turkey."
The names of all these men too--Colonel Fakhi, Mustapha, Bournef,Essares--their accent in talking, their way of holding themselves, theirfeatures, their figures, all recalled impressions which he had gatheredin the Near East, in the hotels at Alexandria or on the banks of theBosphorus, in the bazaars of Adrianople or in the Greek boats that plowthe AEgean Sea. They were Levantine types, but of Levantines who hadtaken root in Paris. Essares Bey was a name which Patrice recognized aswell-known in the financial world, even as he knew that of ColonelFakhi, whose speech and intonation marked him for a seasoned Parisian.
But a sound of voices came from outside the door. It was flung openviolently and the four men appeared, dragging in a bound man, whom theydropped to the floor as they entered.
"Here's old Simeon," cried the one whom Fakhi had addressed as Bournef.
"And the wife?" asked the leader. "I hope you've got her too!"
"Well, no."
"What is that? Has she escaped?"
"Yes, through her window."
"But you must run after her. She can only be in the garden. Remember,the watch-dog was barking just now."
"And suppose she's got away?"
"How?"
"By the door on the lane?"
"Impossible!"
"Why?"
"The door hasn't been used for years. There's not even a key to it."
"That's as may be," Bournef rejoined. "All the same, we're surely notgoing to organize a battue with lanterns and rouse the whole districtfor the sake of finding a woman . . ."
"Yes, but that woman . . ."
Colonel Fakhi seemed exasperated. He turned to the prisoner:
"You're in luck, you old rascal! This is the second time to-day thatminx of yours has slipped through my fingers! Did she tell you whathappened this afternoon? Oh, if it hadn't been for an infernal officerwho happened to be passing! . . . But I'll get hold of him yet and heshall pay dearly for his interference. . . ."
Patrice clenched his fists with fury. He understood: Coralie was hidingin her own house. Surprised by the sudden arrival of the five men, shehad managed to climb out of her window and, making her way along theterrace to the steps, had gone to the part of the house opposite therooms that were in use and taken refuge in the gallery of the library,where she was able to witness the terrible assault levied at herhusband.
"Her husband!" thought Patrice, with a shudder. "Her husband!"
And, if he still entertained any doubts on the subject, the hurriedcourse of events soon removed them, for the leader began to chuckle:
"Yes, Essares, old man, I confess that she attracts me more than I cantell you; and, as I failed to catch her earlier in the day, I did hopethis evening, as soon as I had settled my business with you, to settlesomething infinitely more agreeable with your wife. Not to mention that,once in my power, the little woman would be serving me as a hostage andthat I would only have restored her to you--oh, safe and sound, believeme!--after specific performance of our agreement. And you would have runstraight, Essares! For you love your Coralie passionately! And quiteright too!"
He went to the right-hand side of the fireplace
and, touching a switch,lit an electric lamp under a reflector between the third and fourthwindows. There was a companion picture here to Essares' portrait, but itwas covered over. The leader drew the curtain, and Coralie appeared inthe full light.
"The monarch of all she surveys! The idol! The witch! The pearl ofpearls! The imperial diamond of Essares Bey, banker! Isn't shebeautiful? I ask you. Admire the delicate outline of her face, thepurity of that oval; and the pretty neck; and those graceful shoulders.Essares, there's not a favorite in the country we come from who can holda candle to your Coralie! My Coralie, soon! For I shall know how to findher. Ah, Coralie, Coralie! . . ."
Patrice looked across at her, and it seemed to him that her face wasreddened with a blush of shame. He himself was shaken by indignation andanger at each insulting word. It was a violent enough sorrow to him toknow that Coralie was the wife of another; and added to this sorrow washis rage at seeing her thus exposed to these men's gaze and promised asa helpless prey to whosoever should prove himself the strongest.
At the same time, he wondered why Coralie remained in the room.Supposing that she could not leave the garden, nevertheless she was freeto move about in that part of the house and might well have opened awindow and called for help. What prevented her from doing so? Of courseshe did not love her husband. If she had loved him, she would have facedevery danger to defend him. But how was it possible for her to allowthat man to be tortured, worse still, to be present at his sufferings,to contemplate that most hideous of sights and to listen to his yells ofpain?
"Enough of this nonsense!" cried the leader, pulling the curtain backinto its place. "Coralie, you shall be my final reward; but I must firstwin you. Comrades, to work; let's finish our friend's job. First of all,twenty inches nearer, no more. Good! Does it burn, Essares? All thesame, it's not more than you can stand. Bear up, old fellow."
He unfastened the prisoner's right arm, put a little table by his side,laid a pencil and paper on it and continued:
"There's writing-materials for you. As your gag prevents you fromspeaking, write. You know what's wanted of you, don't you? Scribble afew letters, and you're free. Do you consent? No? Comrades, three inchesnearer."
He moved away and stooped over the secretary, whom Patrice, by thebrighter light, had recognized as the old fellow who sometimes escortedCoralie to the hospital.
"As for you, Simeon," he said, "you shall come to no harm. I know thatyou are devoted to your master, but I also know that he tells you noneof his private affairs. On the other hand, I am certain that you willkeep silent as to all this, because a single word of betrayal wouldinvolve your master's ruin even more than ours. That's understoodbetween us, isn't it? Well, why don't you answer? Have they squeezedyour throat a bit too tight with their cords? Wait, I'll give you someair. . . ."
Meanwhile the ugly work at the fireplace pursued its course. The twofeet were reddened by the heat until it seemed almost as though thebright flames of the fire were glowing through them. The suffererexerted all his strength in trying to bend his legs and to draw back;and a dull, continuous moan came through his gag.
"Oh, hang it all!" thought Patrice. "Are we going to let him roast likethis, like a chicken on a spit?"
He looked at Coralie. She did not stir. Her face was distorted beyondrecognition, and her eyes seemed fascinated by the terrifying sight.
"Couple of inches nearer!" cried the leader, from the other end of theroom, as he unfastened Simeon's bonds.
The order was executed. The victim gave such a yell that Patrice's bloodfroze in his veins. But, at the same moment, he became aware ofsomething that had not struck him so far, or at least he had attached nosignificance to it. The prisoner's hand, as the result of a sequence oflittle movements apparently due to nervous twitches, had seized theopposite edge of the table, while his arm rested on the marble top. Andgradually, unseen by the torturers, all whose efforts were directed tokeeping his legs in position, or by the leader, who was still engagedwith Simeon, this hand opened a drawer which swung on a hinge, dippedinto the drawer, took out a revolver and, resuming its original positionwith a jerk, hid the weapon in the chair.
The act, or rather the intention which it indicated, was foolhardy inthe extreme, for, when all was said, reduced to his present state ofhelplessness, the man could not hope for victory against fiveadversaries, all free and all armed. Nevertheless, as Patrice looked atthe glass in which he beheld him, he saw a fierce determination picturedin the man's face.
"Another two inches," said Colonel Fakhi, as he walked back to thefireplace.
He examined the condition of the flesh and said, with a laugh:
"The skin is blistering in places; the veins are ready to burst.Essares Bey, you can't be enjoying yourself, and it strikes me that youmean to do the right thing at last. Have you started scribbling yet? No?And don't you mean to? Are you still hoping? Counting on your wife,perhaps? Come, come, you must see that, even if she has succeeded inescaping, she won't say anything! Well, then, are you humbugging me, orwhat? . . ."
He was seized with a sudden burst of rage and shouted:
"Shove his feet into the fire! And let's have a good smell of burningfor once! Ah, you would defy me, would you? Well, wait a bit, old chap,and let me have a go at you! I'll cut you off an ear or two: you know,the way we have in our country!"
He drew from his waistcoat a dagger that gleamed in the firelight. Hisface was hideous with animal cruelty. He gave a fierce cry, raised hisarm and stood over the other relentlessly.
But, swift as his movement was, Essares was before him. The revolver,quickly aimed, was discharged with a loud report. The dagger droppedfrom the colonel's hand. For two or three seconds he maintained histhreatening attitude, with one arm lifted on high and a haggard look inhis eyes, as though he did not quite understand what had happened tohim. And then, suddenly, he fell upon his victim in a huddled heap,paralyzing his arm with the full weight of his body, at the moment whenEssares was taking aim at one of the other confederates.
He was still breathing:
"Oh, the brute, the brute!" he panted. "He's killed me! . . . Butyou'll lose by it, Essares. . . . I was prepared for this. If I don'tcome home to-night, the prefect of police will receive a letter. . . .They'll know about your treason, Essares . . . all your story . . . yourplans. . . . Oh, you devil! . . . And what a fool! . . . We could soeasily have come to terms. . . ."
He muttered a few inaudible words and rolled down to the floor. It wasall over.
A moment of stupefaction was produced not so much by this unexpectedtragedy as by the revelation which the leader had made before dying andby the thought of that letter, which no doubt implicated the aggressorsas well as their victim. Bournef had disarmed Essares. The latter, nowthat the chair was no longer held in position, had succeeded in bendinghis legs. No one moved.
Meanwhile, the sense of terror which the whole scene had produced seemedrather to increase with the silence. On the ground was the corpse, withthe blood flowing on the carpet. Not far away lay Simeon's motionlessform. Then there was the prisoner, still bound in front of the flameswaiting to devour his flesh. And standing near him were the fourbutchers, hesitating perhaps what to do next, but showing in everyfeature an implacable resolution to defeat the enemy by all and everymeans.
His companions glanced at Bournef, who seemed the kind of man to go anylength. He was a short, stout, powerfully-built man; his upper lipbristled with the mustache which had attracted Patrice Belval'sattention. He was less cruel in appearance than his chief, less elegantin his manner and less masterful, but displayed far greater coolnessand self-command. As for the colonel, his accomplices seemed not totrouble about him. The part which they were playing dispensed them fromshowing any empty compassion.
At last Bournef appeared to have made up his mind how to act. He went tohis hat, the gray-felt hat lying near the door, turned back the liningand took from it a tiny coil the sight of which made Patrice start. Itwas a slender red cord, exactly like that which he had
found round theneck of Mustapha Rovalaiof, the first accomplice captured by Ya-Bon.
Bournef unrolled the cord, took it by the two buckles, tested itsstrength across his knee and then, going back to Essares, slipped itover his neck after first removing his gag.
"Essares," he said, with a calmness which was more impressive than thecolonel's violence and sneers, "Essares, I shall not put you to anypain. Torture is a revolting process; and I shall not have recourse toit. You know what to do; I know what to do. A word on your side, anaction on my side; and the thing is done. The word is the yes or nowhich you will now speak. The action which I shall accomplish in replyto your yes or no will mean either your release or else . . ."
He stopped for a second or two. Then he declared:
"Or else your death."
The brief phrase was uttered very simply but with a firmness that gaveit the full significance of an irrevocable sentence. It was clear thatEssares was faced with a catastrophe which he could no longer avoidsave by submitting absolutely. In less than a minute, he would havespoken or he would be dead.
Once again Patrice fixed his eyes on Coralie, ready to interfere shouldhe perceive in her any other feeling than one of passive terror. But herattitude did not change. She was therefore accepting the worst, itappeared, even though this meant her husband's death; and Patrice heldhis hand accordingly.
"Are we all agreed?" Bournef asked, turning to his accomplices.
"Quite," said one of them.
"Do you take your share of the responsibility?"
"We do."
Bournef brought his hands together and crossed them, which had theresult of knotting the cord round Essares' neck. Then he pulledslightly, so as to make the pressure felt, and asked, unemotionally:
"Yes or no?"
"Yes."
There was a murmur of satisfaction. The accomplices heaved a breath; andBournef nodded his head with an air of approval:
"Ah, so you accept! It was high time: I doubt if any one was ever nearerdeath than you were, Essares." Retaining his hold of the cord, hecontinued, "Very well. You will speak. But I know you; and your answersurprises me, for I told the colonel that not even the certainty ofdeath would make you confess your secret. Am I wrong?"
"No," replied Essares. "Neither death nor torture."
"Then you have something different to propose?"
"Yes."
"Something worth our while?"
"Yes. I suggested it to the colonel just now, when you were out of theroom. But, though he was willing to betray you and go halves with me inthe secret, he refused the other thing."
"Why should I accept it?"
"Because you must take it or leave it and because you will understandwhat he did not."
"It's a compromise, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"Money?"
"Yes."
Bournef shrugged his shoulders:
"A few thousand-franc notes, I expect. And you imagine that Bournef andhis friends will be such fools? . . . Come, Essares, why do you want usto compromise? We know your secret almost entirely. . . ."
"You know what it is, but not how to use it. You don't know how to getat it; and that's just the point."
"We shall discover it."
"Never."
"Yes, your death will make it easier for us."
"My death? Thanks to the information lodged by the colonel, in a fewhours you will be tracked down and most likely caught: in any case, youwill be unable to pursue your search. Therefore you have hardly anychoice. It's the money which I'm offering you, or else . . . prison."
"And, if we accept," asked Bournef, to whom the argument seemed toappeal, "when shall we be paid?"
"At once."
"Then the money is here?"
"Yes."
"A contemptible sum, as I said before?"
"No, a much larger sum than you hope for; infinitely larger."
"How much?"
"Four millions."