VII
TWENTY-THREE MINUTES PAST TWELVE
The great hall that ran from Rue Raynouard to the upper terrace of thegarden was filled to half its extent by a wide staircase and divided theEssares house into two parts communicating only by way of the hall.
On the left were the drawing-room and the library, which was followed byan independent block containing a private staircase. On the right were abilliard-room and the dining-room, both with lower ceilings. Above thesewere Essares Bey's bedroom, on the street side, and Coralie's,overlooking the garden. Beyond was the servants' wing, where old Simeonalso used to sleep.
Patrice was asked to wait in the billiard-room, with the Senegalese. Hehad been there about a quarter of an hour when Simeon and the maid wereshown in.
The old secretary seemed quite paralyzed by the death of his employerand was holding forth under his breath, making queer gestures as hespoke. Patrice asked him how things were going; and the old fellowwhispered in his ear:
"It's not over yet . . . There's something to fear . . . to fear! . . .To-day . . . presently."
"Presently?" asked Patrice.
"Yes . . . yes," said the old man, trembling.
He said nothing more. As for the housemaid, she readily told her storyin reply to Patrice' questions:
"The first surprise, sir, this morning was that there was no butler, nofootman, no porter. All the three were gone. Then, at half-past six, M.Simeon came and told us from the master that the master had lockedhimself in his library and that he wasn't to be disturbed even forbreakfast. The mistress was not very well. She had her chocolate at nineo'clock. . . . At ten o'clock she went out with M. Simeon. Then, afterwe had done the bedrooms, we never left the kitchen. Eleven o'clockcame, twelve . . . and, just as the hour was striking, we heard a loudring at the front-door. I looked out of the window. There was a motor,with four gentlemen inside. I went to the door. The commissary of policeexplained who he was and wanted to see the master. I showed them theway. The library-door was locked. We knocked: no answer. We shook it: noanswer. In the end, one of the gentlemen, who knew how, picked the lock.. . . Then . . . then . . . you can imagine what we saw. . . . But youcan't, it was much worse, because the poor master at that moment had hishead almost under the grate. . . . Oh, what scoundrels they must havebeen! . . . For they did kill him, didn't they? I know one of thegentlemen said at once that the master had died of a stroke and falleninto the fire. Only my firm belief is . . ."
Old Simeon had listened without speaking, with his head still halfwrapped up, showing only his bristly gray beard and his eyes hiddenbehind their yellow spectacles. But at this point of the story he gavea little chuckle, came up to Patrice and said in his ear:
"There's something to fear . . . to fear! . . . Mme. Coralie. . . . Makeher go away at once . . . make her go away. . . . If not, it'll be theworse for her. . . ."
Patrice shuddered and tried to question him, but could learn nothingmore. Besides, the old man did not remain. A policeman came to fetch himand took him to the library.
His evidence lasted a long time. It was followed by the depositions ofthe cook and the housemaid. Next, Coralie's evidence was taken, in herown room. At four o'clock another car arrived. Patrice saw two gentlemenpass into the hall, with everybody bowing very low before them. Herecognized the minister of justice and the minister of the interior.They conferred in the library for half an hour and went away again.
At last, shortly before five o'clock, a policeman came for Patrice andshowed him up to the first floor. The man tapped at a door and stoodaside. Patrice entered a small boudoir, lit up by a wood fire by whichtwo persons were seated: Coralie, to whom he bowed, and, opposite her,the gentleman who had spoken to him on his arrival and who seemed to bedirecting the whole enquiry.
He was a man of about fifty, with a thickset body and a heavy face, slowof movement, but with bright, intelligent eyes.
"The examining-magistrate, I presume, sir?" asked Patrice.
"No," he replied, "I am M. Masseron, a retired magistrate, speciallyappointed to clear up this affair . . . not to examine it, as youthink, for it does not seem to me that there is anything to examine."
"What?" cried Patrice, in great surprise. "Nothing to examine?"
He looked at Coralie, who kept her eyes fixed upon him attentively. Thenshe turned them on M. Masseron, who resumed:
"I have no doubt, Captain Belval, that, when we have said what we haveto say, we shall be agreed at all points . . . just as madame and I arealready agreed."
"I don't doubt it either," said Patrice. "All the same, I am afraid thatmany of those points remain unexplained."
"Certainly, but we shall find an explanation, we shall find it together.Will you please tell me what you know?"
Patrice waited for a moment and then said:
"I will not disguise my astonishment, sir. The story which I have totell is of some importance; and yet there is no one here to take itdown. Is it not to count as evidence given on oath, as a depositionwhich I shall have to sign?"
"You yourself, captain, shall determine the value of your words and theinnuendo which you wish them to bear. For the moment, we will look onthis as a preliminary conversation, as an exchange of views relating tofacts . . . touching which Mme. Essares has given me, I believe, thesame information that you will be able to give me."
Patrice did not reply at once. He had a vague impression that there wasa private understanding between Coralie and the magistrate and that, inface of that understanding, he, both by his presence and by his zeal,was playing the part of an intruder whom they would gladly havedismissed. He resolved therefore to maintain an attitude of reserveuntil the magistrate had shown his hand.
"Of course," he said, "I daresay madame has told you. So you know of theconversation which I overheard yesterday at the restaurant?"
"Yes."
"And the attempt to kidnap Mme. Essares?"
"Yes."
"And the murder? . . ."
"Yes."
"Mme. Essares has described to you the blackmailing scene that tookplace last night, with M. Essares for a victim, the details of thetorture, the death of the colonel, the handing over of the fourmillions, the conversation on the telephone between M. Essares and acertain Gregoire and, lastly, the threats uttered against madame by herhusband?"
"Yes, Captain Belval, I know all this, that is to say, all that youknow; and I know, in addition, all that I discovered through my owninvestigations."
"Of course, of course," Patrice repeated. "I see that my story becomessuperfluous and that you are in possession of all the necessary factorsto enable you to draw your conclusions." And, continuing to put ratherthan answer questions, he added, "May I ask what inference you havearrived at?"
"To tell you the truth, captain, my inferences are not definite.However, until I receive some proof to the contrary, I propose to remainsatisfied with the actual words of a letter which M. Essares wrote tohis wife at about twelve o'clock this morning and which we found lyingon his desk, unfinished. Mme. Essares asked me to read it and, ifnecessary, to communicate the contents to you. Listen."
M. Masseron proceeded to read the letter aloud:
"_Coralie_,
"You were wrong yesterday to attribute my departure to reasons which I dared not acknowledge; and perhaps I also was wrong not to defend myself more convincingly against your accusation. The only motive for my departure is the hatred with which I am surrounded. You have seen how fierce it is. In the face of these enemies who are seeking to despoil me by every possible means, my only hope of salvation lies in flight. That is why I am going away.
"But let me remind you, Coralie, of my clearly expressed wish. You are to join me at the first summons. If you do not leave Paris then, nothing shall protect you against my lawful resentment: nothing, not even my death. I have made all my arrangements so that, even in the contingency . . ."
"The letter e
nds there," said M. Masseron, handing it back to Coralie,"and we know by an unimpeachable sign that the last lines were writtenimmediately before M. Essares' death, because, in falling, he upset alittle clock which stood on his desk and which marked twenty-threeminutes past twelve. I assume that he felt unwell and that, on trying torise, he was seized with a fit of giddiness and fell to the floor.Unfortunately, the fireplace was near, with a fierce fire blazing in it;his head struck the grate; and the wound that resulted was so deep--thesurgeon testified to this--that he fainted. Then the fire close at handdid its work . . . with the effects which you have seen. . . ."
Patrice had listened in amazement to this unexpected explanation:
"Then in your opinion," he asked, "M. Essares died of an accident? Hewas not murdered?"
"Murdered? Certainly not! We have no clue to support any such theory."
"Still . . ."
"Captain Belval, you are the victim of an association of ideas which, Iadmit, is perfectly justifiable. Ever since yesterday you have beenwitnessing a series of tragic incidents; and your imagination naturallyleads you to the most tragic solution, that of murder.Only--reflect--why should a murder have been committed? And by whom? ByBournef and his friends? With what object? They were crammed full withbank-notes; and, even admitting that the man called Gregoire recoveredthose millions from them, they would certainly not have got them back bykilling M. Essares. Then again, how would they have entered the house?And how can they have gone out? . . . No, captain, you must excuse me,but M. Essares died an accidental death. The facts are undeniable; andthis is the opinion of the divisional surgeon, who will draw up hisreport in that sense."
Patrice turned to Coralie:
"Is it Mme. Essares' opinion also?"
She reddened slightly and answered:
"Yes."
"And old Simeon's?"
"Oh," replied the magistrate, "old Simeon is wandering in his mind! Tolisten to him, you would think that everything was about to happen allover again, that Mme. Essares is threatened with danger and that sheought to take to flight at once. That is all that I have been able toget out of him. However, he took me to an old disused door that opensout of the garden on a lane running at right angles with the RueRaynouard; and here he showed me first the watch-dog's dead body andnext some footprints between the door and the flight of steps near thelibrary. But you know those foot-prints, do you not? They belong to youand your Senegalese. As for the death of the watch-dog, I can put thatdown to your Senegalese, can't I?"
Patrice was beginning to understand. The magistrate's reticence, hisexplanation, his agreement with Coralie: all this was gradually becomingplain. He put the question frankly:
"So there was no murder?"
"No."
"Then there will be no magistrate's examination?"
"No."
"And no talk about the matter; it will all be kept quiet, in short, andforgotten?"
"Just so."
Captain Belval began to walk up and down, as was his habit. He nowremembered Essares' prophecy:
"I sha'n't be arrested. . . . If I am, I shall be let go. . . . Thematter will be hushed up. . . ."
Essares was right. The hand of justice was arrested; and there was noway for Coralie to escape silent complicity.
Patrice was intensely annoyed by the manner in which the case was beinghandled. It was certain that a compact had been concluded betweenCoralie and M. Masseron. He suspected the magistrate of circumventingCoralie and inducing her to sacrifice her own interests to otherconsiderations. To effect this, the first thing was to get rid of him,Patrice.
"Ugh!" said Patrice to himself. "I'm fairly sick of this sportsman, withhis cool ironical ways. It looks as if he were doing a considerablepiece of thimblerigging at my expense."
He restrained himself, however, and, with a pretense of wanting to keepon good terms with the magistrate, came and sat down beside him:
"You must forgive me, sir," he said, "for insisting in what may appearto you an indiscreet fashion. But my conduct is explained not only bysuch sympathy or feeling as I entertain for Mme. Essares at a moment inher life when she is more lonely than ever, a sympathy and feeling whichshe seems to repulse even more firmly than she did before. It is alsoexplained by certain mysterious links which unite us to each other andwhich go back to a period too remote for our eyes to focus. Has Mme.Essares told you those details? In my opinion, they are most important;and I cannot help associating them with the events that interest us."
M. Masseron glanced at Coralie, who nodded. He answered:
"Yes, Mme. Essares has informed me and even . . ."
He hesitated once more and again consulted Coralie, who flushed andseemed put out of countenance. M. Masseron, however, waited for a replywhich would enable him to proceed. She ended by saying, in a low voice:
"Captain Belval is entitled to know what we have discovered. The truthbelongs as much to him as to me; and I have no right to keep it fromhim. Pray speak, monsieur."
"I doubt if it is even necessary to speak," said the magistrate. "Itwill be enough, I think, to show the captain this photograph-album whichI have found. Here you are, Captain Belval."
And he handed Patrice a very slender album, covered in gray canvas andfastened with an india-rubber band.
Patrice took it with a certain anxiety. But what he saw on opening itwas so utterly unexpected that he gave an exclamation:
"It's incredible!"
On the first page, held in place by their four corners, were twophotographs: one, on the right, representing a small boy in an Etonjacket; the other, on the left, representing a very little girl. Therewas an inscription under each. On the right: "Patrice, at ten." On theleft: "Coralie, at three."
Moved beyond expression, Patrice turned the leaf. On the second pagethey appeared again, he at the age of fifteen, she at the age of eight.And he saw himself at nineteen and at twenty-three and at twenty-eight,always accompanied by Coralie, first as a little girl, then as a younggirl, next as a woman.
"This is incredible!" he cried. "How is it possible? Here are portraitsof myself which I had never seen, amateur photographs obviously, whichtrace my whole life. Here's one when I was doing my military training.. . . Here I am on horseback . . . Who can have ordered thesephotographs? And who can have collected them together with yours,madame?"
He fixed his eyes on Coralie, who evaded their questioning gaze andlowered her head as though the close connection between their two lives,to which those pages bore witness, had shaken her to the very depths ofher being.
"Who can have brought them together?" he repeated. "Do you know? Andwhere does the album come from?"
M. Masseron supplied the answer:
"It was the surgeon who found it. M. Essares wore a vest under hisshirt; and the album was in an inner pocket, a pocket sewn inside thevest. The surgeon felt the boards through it when he was undressing M.Essares' body."
This time, Patrice's and Coralie's eyes met. The thought that M. Essareshad been collecting both their photographs during the past twenty yearsand that he wore them next to his breast and that he had lived and diedwith them upon him, this thought amazed them so much that they did noteven try to fathom its strange significance.
"Are you sure of what you are saying, sir?" asked Patrice.
"I was there," said M. Masseron. "I was present at the discovery.Besides, I myself made another which confirms this one and completes itin a really surprising fashion. I found a pendant, cut out of a solidblock of amethyst and held in a setting of filigree-work."
"What's that?" cried Captain Belval. "What's that? A pendant? Anamethyst pendant?"
"Look for yourself, sir," suggested the magistrate, after once moreconsulting Mme. Essares with a glance.
And he handed Captain Belval an amethyst pendant, larger than the ballformed by joining the two halves which Coralie and Patrice possessed,she on her rosary and he on his bunch of seals; and this new ball wasencircled with a specimen of gold filigree-work exactly like t
hat on therosary and on the seal.
The setting served as a clasp.
"Am I to open it?" he asked.
Coralie nodded. He opened the pendant. The inside was divided by amovable glass disk, which separated two miniature photographs, one ofCoralie as a nurse, the other of himself, wounded, in an officer'suniform.
Patrice reflected, with pale cheeks. Presently he asked:
"And where does this pendant come from? Did you find it, sir?"
"Yes, Captain Belval."
"Where?"
The magistrate seemed to hesitate. Coralie's attitude gave Patrice theimpression that she was unaware of this detail. M. Masseron at lastsaid:
"I found it in the dead man's hand."
"In the dead man's hand? In M. Essares' hand?"
Patrice had given a start, as though under an unexpected blow, and wasnow leaning over the magistrate, greedily awaiting a reply which hewanted to hear for the second time before accepting it as certain.
"Yes, in his hand. I had to force back the clasped fingers in order torelease it."
Belval stood up and, striking the table with his fist, exclaimed:
"Well, sir, I will tell you one thing which I was keeping back as a lastargument to prove to you that my collaboration is of use; and this thingbecomes of great importance after what we have just learnt. Sir, thismorning some one asked to speak to me on the telephone; and I had hardlyanswered the call when this person, who seemed greatly excited, was thevictim of a murderous assault, committed in my hearing. And, amid thesound of the scuffle and the cries of agony, I caught the followingwords, which the unhappy man insisted on trying to get to me as so manylast instructions: 'Patrice! . . . Coralie! . . . The amethyst pendant.. . . Yes, I have it on me. . . . The pendant. . . . Ah, it's too late!. . . I should so much have liked. . . . Patrice. . . . Coralie. . . .'There's what I heard, sir, and here are the two facts which we cannotescape. This morning, at nineteen minutes past seven, a man was murderedhaving upon him an amethyst pendant. This is the first undeniable fact.A few hours later, at twenty-three minutes past twelve, this sameamethyst pendant is discovered clutched in the hand of another man. Thisis the second undeniable fact. Place these facts side by side and youare bound to come to the conclusion that the first murder, the one ofwhich I caught the distant echo, was committed here, in this house, inthe same library which, since yesterday evening, witnessed the end ofevery scene in the tragedy which we are contemplating."
This revelation, which in reality amounted to a fresh accusation againstEssares, seemed to affect the magistrate profoundly. Patrice had flunghimself into the discussion with a passionate vehemence and a logicalreasoning which it was impossible to disregard without evidentinsincerity.
Coralie had turned aside slightly and Patrice could not see her face;but he suspected her dismay in the presence of all this infamy andshame.
M. Masseron raised an objection:
"Two undeniable facts, you say, Captain Belval? As to the first point,let me remark that we have not found the body of the man who is supposedto have been murdered at nineteen minutes past seven this morning."
"It will be found in due course."
"Very well. Second point: as regards the amethyst pendant discovered inEssares' hand, how can we tell that Essares Bey found it in the murderedman's hand and not somewhere else? For, after all, we do not know if hewas at home at that time and still less if he was in his library."
"But I do know."
"How?"
"I telephoned to him a few minutes later and he answered. More thanthat, to sweep away any trace of doubt, he told me that he had rung meup but that he had been cut off."
M. Masseron thought for a moment and then said:
"Did he go out this morning?"
"Ask Mme. Essares."
Without turning round, manifestly wishing to avoid Belval's eyes,Coralie answered:
"I don't think that he went out. The suit he was wearing at the time ofhis death was an indoor suit."
"Did you see him after last night?"
"He came and knocked at my room three times this morning, between sevenand nine o'clock. I did not open the door. At about eleven o'clock Istarted off alone; I heard him call old Simeon and tell him to go withme. Simeon caught me up in the street. That is all I know."
A prolonged silence ensued. Each of the three was meditating upon thisstrange series of adventures. In the end, M. Masseron, who had realizedthat a man of Captain Belval's stamp was not the sort to be easilythrust aside, spoke in the tone of one who, before coming to terms,wishes to know exactly what his adversary's last word is likely to be:
"Let us come to the point, captain. You are building up a theory whichstrikes me as very vague. What is it precisely? And what are youproposing to do if I decline to accept it? I have asked you two veryplain questions. Do you mind answering them?"
"I will answer them, sir, as plainly as you put them."
He went up to the magistrate and said:
"Here, sir, is the field of battle and of attack--yes, of attack, ifneed be--which I select. A man who used to know me, who knew Mme.Essares as a child and who was interested in both of us, a man who usedto collect our portraits at different ages, who had reasons for lovingus unknown to me, who sent me the key of that garden and who was makingarrangements to bring us together for a purpose which he would have toldus, this man was murdered at the moment when he was about to executehis plan. Now everything tells me that he was murdered by M. Essares. Iam therefore resolved to lodge an information, whatever the results ofmy action may be. And believe me, sir, my charge will not be hushed up.There are always means of making one's self heard . . . even if I amreduced to shouting the truth from the house-tops."
M. Masseron burst out laughing:
"By Jove, captain, but you're letting yourself go!"
"I'm behaving according to my conscience; and Mme. Essares, I feel sure,will forgive me. She knows that I am acting for her good. She knows thatall will be over with her if this case is hushed up and if theauthorities do not assist her. She knows that the enemies who threatenher are implacable. They will stop at nothing to attain their object andto do away with her, for she stands in their way. And the terrible thingabout it is that the most clear-seeing eyes are unable to make out whatthat object is. We are playing the most formidable game against theseenemies; and we do not even know what the stakes are. Only the policecan discover those stakes."
M. Masseron waited for a second or two and then, laying his hand onPatrice's shoulder, said, calmly:
"And, suppose the authorities knew what the stakes were?"
Patrice looked at him in surprise:
"What? Do you mean to say you know?"
"Perhaps."
"And can you tell me?"
"Oh, well, if you force me to!"
"What are they?"
"Not much! A trifle!"
"But what sort of trifle?"
"A thousand million francs."
"A thousand millions?"
"Just that. A thousand millions, of which two-thirds, I regret to say,if not three-quarters, had already left France before the war. But theremaining two hundred and fifty or three hundred millions are worth morethan a thousand millions all the same, for a very good reason."
"What reason?"
"They happen to be in gold."