CHAPTER V
HUSBAND AND WIFE
The accomplices started, as though they had received an electric shock.Bournef darted forward:
"What did you say?"
"I said four millions, which means a million for each of you."
"Look here! . . . Do you mean it? . . . Four millions? . . ."
"Four millions is what I said."
The figure was so gigantic and the proposal so utterly unexpected thatthe accomplices had the same feeling which Patrice Belval on his sideunderwent. They suspected a trap; and Bournef could not help saying:
"The offer is more than we expected. . . . And I am wondering whatinduced you to make it."
"Would you have been satisfied with less?"
"Yes," said Bournef, candidly.
"Unfortunately, I can't make it less. I have only one means of escapingdeath; and that is to open my safe for you. And my safe contains fourbundles of a thousand bank-notes each."
Bournef could not get over his astonishment and became more and moresuspicious.
"How do you know that, after taking the four millions, we shall notinsist on more?"
"Insist on what? The secret of the site?"
"Yes."
"Because you know that I would as soon die as tell it you. The fourmillions are the maximum. Do you want them or don't you? I ask for nopromise in return, no oath of any kind, for I am convinced that, whenyou have filled your pockets, you will have but one thought, to clearoff, without handicapping yourselves with a murder which might proveyour undoing."
The argument was so unanswerable that Bournef ceased discussing andasked:
"Is the safe in this room?"
"Yes, between the first and second windows, behind my portrait."
Bournef took down the picture and said:
"I see nothing."
"It's all right. The lines of the safe are marked by the moldings of thecentral panel. In the middle you will see what looks like a rose, not ofwood but of iron; and there are four others at the four corners of thepanel. These four turn to the right, by successive notches, forming aword which is the key to the lock, the word Cora."
"The first four letters of Coralie?" asked Bournef, following Essares'instructions as he spoke.
"No," said Essares Bey, "the first four letters of the Coran. Have youdone that?"
After a moment, Bournef answered:
"Yes, I've finished. And the key?"
"There's no key. The fifth letter of the word, the letter N, is theletter of the central rose."
Bournef turned this fifth rose; and presently a click was heard.
"Now pull," said Essares. "That's it. The safe is not deep: it's dug inone of the stones of the front wall. Put in your hand. You'll find fourpocket-books."
It must be admitted that Patrice Belval expected to see somethingstartling interrupt Bournef's quest and hurl him into some pit suddenlyopened by Essares' trickery. And the three confederates seemed to sharethis unpleasant apprehension, for they were gray in the face, whileBournef himself appeared to be working very cautiously and suspiciously.
At last he turned round and came and sat beside Essares. In his hands heheld a bundle of four pocket-books, short but extremely bulky and boundtogether with a canvas strap. He unfastened the buckle of the strap andopened one of the pocket-books.
His knees shook under their precious burden, and, when he had taken ahuge sheaf of notes from one of the compartments, his hands were likethe hands of a very old man trembling with fever.
"Thousand-franc notes," he murmured. "Ten packets of thousand-francnotes."
Brutally, like men prepared to fight one another, each of the otherthree laid hold of a pocket-book, felt inside and mumbled:
"Ten packets . . . they're all there. . . . Thousand-franc notes . . ."
And one of them forthwith cried, in a choking voice:
"Let's clear out! . . . Let's go!"
A sudden fear was sending them off their heads. They could not imaginethat Essares would hand over such a fortune to them unless he had someplan which would enable him to recover it before they had left the room.That was a certainty. The ceiling would come down on their heads. Thewalls would close up and crush them to death, while sparing theirunfathomable adversary.
Nor had Patrice Belval any doubt of it. The disaster was preparing.Essares' revenge was inevitably at hand. A man like him, a fighter asable as he appeared to be, does not so easily surrender four millionfrancs if he has not some scheme at the back of his head. Patrice felthimself breathing heavily. His present excitement was more violent thanany with which he had thrilled since the very beginning of the tragicscenes which he had been witnessing; and he saw that Coralie's face wasas anxious as his own.
Meanwhile Bournef partially recovered his composure and, holding backhis companions, said:
"Don't be such fools! He would be capable, with old Simeon, of releasinghimself and running after us."
Using only one hand, for the other was clutching a pocket-book, all fourfastened Essares' arm to the chair, while he protested angrily:
"You idiots! You came here to rob me of a secret of immense importance,as you well knew, and you lose your heads over a trifle of fourmillions. Say what you like, the colonel had more backbone than that!"
They gagged him once more and Bournef gave him a smashing blow with hisfist which laid him unconscious.
"That makes our retreat safe," said Bournef.
"What about the colonel?" asked one of the others. "Are we to leave himhere?"
"Why not?"
But apparently he thought this unwise; for he added:
"On second thoughts, no. It's not to our interest to compromise Essaresany further. What we must do, Essares as well as ourselves, is to makeourselves scarce as fast as we can, before that damned letter of thecolonel's is delivered at headquarters, say before twelve o'clock in theday."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"We'll take the colonel with us in the motor and drop him anywhere. Thepolice must make what they can of it."
"And his papers?"
"We'll look through his pockets as we go. Lend me a hand."
They bandaged the wound to stop the flow of blood, took up the body,each holding it by an arm or leg, and walked out without any one of themletting go his pocket-book for a second.
Patrice Belval heard them pass through another room and then trampheavily over the echoing flags of a hall.
"This is the moment," he said. "Essares or Simeon will press a buttonand the rogues will be nabbed."
Essares did not budge.
Simeon did not budge.
Patrice heard all the sounds accompanying their departure: the slammingof the carriage-gate, the starting-up of the engine and the drone of thecar as it moved away. And that was all. Nothing had happened. Theconfederates were getting off with their four millions.
A long silence followed, during which Patrice remained on tenterhooks.He did not believe that the drama had reached its last phase; and he wasso much afraid of the unexpected which might still occur that hedetermined to make Coralie aware of his presence.
A fresh incident prevented him. Coralie had risen to her feet.
Her face no longer wore its expression of horror and affright, butPatrice was perhaps more scared at seeing her suddenly animated with asinister energy that gave an unwonted sparkle to her eyes and set hereyebrows and her lips twitching. He realized that Coralie was preparingto act.
In what way? Was this the end of the tragedy?
She walked to the corner on her side of the gallery where one of the twospiral staircases stood and went down slowly, without, however, tryingto deaden the sound of her feet. Her husband could not help hearing her.Patrice, moreover, saw in the mirror that he had lifted his head and wasfollowing her with his eyes.
She stopped at the foot of the stairs. But there was no indecision inher attitude. Her plan was obviously quite clear; and she was onlythinking out the best method of putting it into execut
ion.
"Ah!" whispered Patrice to himself, quivering all over. "What are youdoing, Little Mother Coralie?"
He gave a start. The direction in which Coralie's eyes were turned,together with the strange manner in which they stared, revealed hersecret resolve to him. She had caught sight of the dagger, lying on thefloor where it had slipped from the colonel's grasp.
Not for a second did Patrice believe that she meant to pick up thatdagger with any other thought than to stab her husband. The intention ofmurder was so plainly written on her livid features that, even beforeshe stirred a limb, Essares was seized with a fit of terror and strainedevery muscle to break the bonds that hampered his movements.
She came forward, stopped once more and, suddenly bending, seized thedagger. Without waiting, she took two more steps. These brought her tothe right of the chair in which Essares lay. He had only to turn hishead a little way to see her. And an awful minute passed, during whichthe husband and wife looked into each other's eyes.
The whirl of thoughts, of fear, of hatred, of vagrant and conflictingpassions that passed through the brains of her who was about to kill andhim who was about to die, was reproduced in Patrice Belval's mind anddeep down in his inner consciousness. What was he to do? What part oughthe to play in the tragedy that was being enacted before his eyes? Shouldhe intervene? Was it his duty to prevent Coralie from committing theirreparable deed? Or should he commit it himself by breaking the man'shead with a bullet from his revolver?
Yet, from the beginning, Patrice had really been swayed by a feelingwhich, mingling with all the others, gradually paralyzed him andrendered any inward struggle illusory: a feeling of curiosity driven toits utmost pitch. It was not the everyday curiosity of unearthing asqualid secret, but the higher curiosity of penetrating the mysterioussoul of a woman whom he loved, who was carried away by the rush ofevents and who suddenly, becoming once more mistress of herself, was ofher own accord and with impressive calmness taking the most fearfulresolution. Thereupon other questions forced themselves upon him. Whatprompted her to take this resolution? Was it revenge? Was it punishment?Was it the gratification of hatred?
Patrice Belval remained where he was.
Coralie raised her arm. Her husband, in front of her, no longer evenattempted to make those movements of despair which indicate a lasteffort. There was neither entreaty nor menace in his eyes. He waited inresignation.
Not far from them, old Simeon, still bound, half-lifted himself on hiselbows and stared at them in dismay.
Coralie raised her arm again. Her whole frame seemed to grow larger andtaller. An invisible force appeared to strengthen and stiffen her wholebeing, summoning all her energies to the service of her will. She was onthe point of striking. Her eyes sought the place at which she shouldstrike.
Yet her eyes became less hard and less dark. It even seemed to Patricethat there was a certain hesitation in her gaze and that she wasrecovering not her usual gentleness, but a little of her womanly grace.
"Ah, Little Mother Coralie," murmured Patrice, "you are yourself again!You are the woman I know. Whatever right you may think you have to killthat man, you will not kill him . . . and I prefer it so."
Slowly Coralie's arm dropped to her side. Her features relaxed. Patricecould guess the immense relief which she felt at escaping from theobsessing purpose that was driving her to murder. She looked at herdagger with astonishment, as though she were waking from a hideousnightmare. And, bending over her husband she began to cut his bonds.
She did so with visible repugnance, avoiding his touch, as it were, andshunning his eyes. The cords were severed one by one. Essares was free.
What happened next was in the highest measure unexpected. With not aword of thanks to his wife, with not a word of anger either, this manwho had just undergone the most cruel torture and whose body stillthrobbed with pain hurriedly tottered barefoot to a telephone standingon a table. He was like a hungry man who suddenly sees a piece of breadand snatches at it greedily as the means of saving himself and returningto life. Panting for breath, Essares took down the receiver and calledout:
"Central 40.39."
Then he turned abruptly to his wife:
"Go away," he said.
She seemed not to hear. She had knelt down beside old Simeon and wassetting him free also.
Essares at the telephone began to lose patience:
"Are you there? . . . Are you there? . . . I want that number to-day,please, not next week! It's urgent. . . . 40.39. . . . It's urgent, Itell you!"
And, turning to Coralie, he repeated, in an imperious tone:
"Go away!"
She made a sign that she would not go away and that, on the contrary,she meant to listen. He shook his fist at her and again said:
"Go away, go away! . . . I won't have you stay in the room. You go awaytoo, Simeon."
Old Simeon got up and moved towards Essares. It looked as though hewished to speak, no doubt to protest. But his action was undecided; and,after a moment's reflection, he turned to the door and went withoututtering a word.
"Go away, will you, go away!" Essares repeated, his whole bodyexpressing menace.
But Coralie came nearer to him and crossed her arms obstinately anddefiantly. At that moment, Essares appeared to get his call, for heasked:
"Is that 40.39? Ah, yes . . ."
He hesitated. Coralie's presence obviously displeased him greatly, andhe was about to say things which he did not wish her to know. But time,no doubt, was pressing. He suddenly made up his mind and, with bothreceivers glued to his ears, said, in English:
"Is that you, Gregoire? . . . Essares speaking. . . . Hullo! . . . Yes,I'm speaking from the Rue Raynouard. . . . There's no time to lose.. . . Listen. . . ."
He sat down and went on:
"Look here. Mustapha's dead. So is the colonel. . . . Damn it, don'tinterrupt, or we're done for! . . . Yes, done for; and you too. . . .Listen, they all came, the colonel, Bournef, the whole gang, and robbedme by means of violence and threats. . . . I finished the colonel, onlyhe had written to the police, giving us all away. The letter will bedelivered soon. So you understand, Bournef and his three ruffians aregoing to disappear. They'll just run home and pack up their papers; andI reckon they'll be with you in an hour, or two hours at most. It's therefuge they're sure to make for. They prepared it themselves, withoutsuspecting that you and I know each other. So there's no doubt about it.They're sure to come. . . ."
Essares stopped. He thought for a moment and resumed:
"You still have a second key to each of the rooms which they use asbedrooms? Is that so? . . . Good. And you have duplicates of the keysthat open the cupboards in the walls of those rooms, haven't you? . . .Capital. Well, as soon as they get to sleep, or rather as soon as youare certain that they are sound asleep, go in and search the cupboards.Each of them is bound to hide his share of the booty there. You'll findit quite easily. It's the four pocket-books which you know of. Put themin your bag, clear out as fast as you can and join me."
There was another pause. This time it was Essares listening. He replied:
"What's that you say? Rue Raynouard? Here? Join me here? Why, you mustbe mad! Do you imagine that I can stay now, after the colonel's given meaway? No, go and wait for me at the hotel, near the station. I shall bethere by twelve o'clock or one in the afternoon, perhaps a little later.Don't be uneasy. Have your lunch quietly and we'll talk things over. . . Hullo! Did you hear? . . . Very well, I'll see that everything'sall right. Good-by for the present."
The conversation was finished; and it looked as if Essares, having takenall his measures to recover possession of the four million francs, hadno further cause for anxiety. He hung up the receiver, went back to thelounge-chair in which he had been tortured, wheeled it round with itsback to the fire, sat down, turned down the bottoms of his trousers andpulled on his socks and shoes, all a little painfully and accompanied bya few grimaces, but calmly, in the manner of a man who has no need tohurry.
Coralie kept her
eyes fixed on his face.
"I really ought to go," thought Captain Belval, who felt a trifleembarrassed at the thought of overhearing what the husband and wife wereabout to say.
Nevertheless he stayed. He was not comfortable in his mind on Coralie'saccount.
Essares fired the first shot:
"Well," he asked, "what are you looking at me like that for?"
"So it's true?" she murmured, maintaining her attitude of defiance. "Youleave me no possibility of doubt?"
"Why should I lie?" he snarled. "I should not have telephoned in yourhearing if I hadn't been sure that you were here all the time."
"I was up there."
"Then you heard everything?"
"Yes."
"And saw everything?"
"Yes."
"And, seeing the torture which they inflicted on me and hearing mycries, you did nothing to defend me, to defend me against torture,against death!"
"No, for I knew the truth."
"What truth?"
"The truth which I suspected without daring to admit it."
"What truth?" he repeated, in a louder voice.
"The truth about your treason."
"You're mad. I've committed no treason."
"Oh, don't juggle with words! I confess that I don't know the wholetruth: I did not understand all that those men said or what they weredemanding of you. But the secret which they tried to force from you wasa treasonable secret."
"A man can only commit treason against his country," he said, shrugginghis shoulders. "I'm not a Frenchman."
"You were a Frenchman!" she cried. "You asked to be one and you becameone. You married me, a Frenchwoman, and you live in France and you'vemade your fortune in France. It's France that you're betraying."
"Don't talk nonsense! And for whose benefit?"
"I don't know that, either. For months, for years indeed, the colonel,Bournef, all your former accomplices and yourself have been engaged onan enormous work--yes, enormous, it's their own word--and now it appearsthat you are fighting over the profits of the common enterprise and theothers accuse you of pocketing those profits for yourself alone and ofkeeping a secret that doesn't belong to you. So that I seem to seesomething dirtier and more hateful even than treachery, somethingworthy of a common pickpocket. . . ."
The man struck the arm of his chair with his fist:
"Enough!" he cried.
Coralie seemed in no way alarmed:
"Enough," she echoed, "you are right. Enough words between us. Besides,there is one fact that stands out above everything: your flight. Thatamounts to a confession. You're afraid of the police."
He shrugged his shoulders a second time:
"I'm afraid of nobody."
"Very well, but you're going."
"Yes."
"Then let's have it out. When are you going?"
"Presently, at twelve o'clock."
"And if you're arrested?"
"I sha'n't be arrested."
"If you are arrested, however?"
"I shall be let go."
"At least there will be an inquiry, a trial?"
"No, the matter will be hushed up."
"You hope so."
"I'm sure of it."
"God grant it! And you will leave France, of course?"
"As soon as I can."
"When will that be?"
"In a fortnight or three weeks."
"Send me word of the day, so that I may know when I can breathe again."
"I shall send you word, Coralie, but for another reason."
"What reason?"
"So that you may join me."
"Join you!"
He gave a cruel smile:
"You are my wife," he said. "Where the husband goes the wife goes; andyou know that, in my religion, the husband has every right over hiswife, including that of life and death. Well, you're my wife."
Coralie shook her head, and, in a tone of indescribable contempt,answered:
"I am not your wife. I feel nothing for you but loathing and horror. Idon't wish to see you again, and, whatever happens, whatever you maythreaten, I shall not see you again."
He rose, and, walking to her, bent in two, all trembling on his legs, heshouted, while again he shook his clenched fists at her:
"What's that you say? What's that you dare to say? I, I, your lord andmaster, order you to join me the moment that I send for you."
"I shall not join you. I swear it before God! I swear it as I hope to besaved."
He stamped his feet with rage. His face underwent a hideous contortion;and he roared:
"That means that you want to stay! Yes, you have reasons which I don'tknow, but which are easy to guess! An affair of the heart, I suppose.There's some one in your life, no doubt. . . . Hold your tongue, willyou? . . . Haven't you always detested me? . . . Your hatred does notdate from to-day. It dates back to the first time you saw me, to a timeeven before our marriage. . . . We have always lived like mortalenemies. I loved you. I worshipped you. A word from you would havebrought me to your feet. The mere sound of your steps thrilled me to themarrow. . . . But your feeling for me is one of horror. And you imaginethat you are going to start a new life, without me? Why, I'd sooner killyou, my beauty!"
He had unclenched his fists; and his open hands were clutching on eitherside of Coralie, close to her head, as though around a prey which theyseemed on the point of throttling. A nervous shiver made his jaws clashtogether. Beads of perspiration gleamed on his bald head.
In front of him, Coralie stood impassive, looking very small and frail.Patrice Belval, in an agony of suspense and ready at any moment to act,could read nothing on her calm features but aversion and contempt.
Mastering himself at last, Essares said:
"You shall join me, Coralie. Whether you like it or not, I am yourhusband. You felt it just now, when the lust to murder me made you takeup a weapon and left you without the courage to carry out yourintention. It will always be like that. Your independent fit will passaway and you will join the man who is your master."
"I shall remain behind to fight against you," she replied, "here, inthis house. The work of treason which you have accomplished I shalldestroy. I shall do it without hatred, for I am no longer capable ofhatred, but I shall do it without intermission, to repair the evil whichyou have wrought."
He answered, in a low voice:
"I _am_ capable of hatred. Beware, Coralie. The very moment when youbelieve that you have nothing more to fear will perhaps be the momentwhen I shall call you to account. Take care."
He pushed an electric bell. Old Simeon appeared.
"So the two men-servants have decamped?" asked Essares. And, withoutwaiting for the answer, he went on, "A good riddance. The housemaid andthe cook can do all I want. They heard nothing, did they? No, theirbedroom is too far away. No matter, Simeon: you must keep a watch onthem after I am gone."
He looked at his wife, surprised to see her still there, and said to hissecretary:
"I must be up at six to get everything ready; and I am dead tired. Takeme to my room. You can come back and put out the lights afterwards."
He went out, supported by Simeon. Patrice Belval at once perceived thatCoralie had done her best to show no weakness in her husband's presence,but that she had come to the end of her strength and was unable to walk.Seized with faintness, she fell on her knees, making the sign of thecross.
When she was able to rise, a few minutes later, she saw on the carpet,between her and the door, a sheet of note-paper with her name on it. Shepicked it up and read:
"Little Mother Coralie, the struggle is too much for you. Why not appeal to me, your friend? Give a signal and I am with you."
She staggered, dazed by the discovery of the letter and dismayed byBelval's daring. But, making a last effort to summon up her power ofwill, she left the room, without giving the signal for which Patrice waslonging.