CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE EXPLOSION
The fourth mysterious letter! The fourth of those letters "posted by thedevil and delivered by the devil," as one of the newspapers expressed it!
We all of us remember the really extraordinary agitation of the public asthe night of the twenty-fifth of May drew near. And fresh news increasedthis interest to a yet higher degree.
People heard in quick succession of the arrest of Sauverand, the flightof his accomplice, Florence Levasseur, Don Luis Perenna's secretary, andthe inexplicable disappearance of Perenna himself, whom they insisted,for the best of reasons, on identifying with Arsene Lupin.
The police, assured from this moment of victory and having nearly all theactors in the tragedy in their power, had gradually given way toindiscretion; and, thanks to the particulars revealed to this or thatjournalist, the public knew of Don Luis's change of attitude, suspectedhis passion for Florence Levasseur and the real cause of hisright-about-face, and thrilled with excitement as they saw thatastonishing figure enter upon a fresh struggle.
What was he going to do? If he wanted to save the woman he loved fromprosecution and to release Marie and Sauverand from prison, he would haveto intervene some time that night, to take part, somehow or other, in theevent at hand, and to prove the innocence of the three accomplices,either by arresting the invisible bearer of the fourth letter or bysuggesting some plausible explanation. In short, he would have to bethere; and that was interesting indeed!
And then the news of Marie Fauville was not good. With unwaveringobstinacy she persisted in her suicidal plans. She had to be artificiallyfed; and the doctors in the infirmary at Saint-Lazare did not concealtheir anxiety. Would Don Luis Perenna arrive in time?
Lastly, there was that one other thing, the threat of an explosion whichwas to blow up Hippolyte Fauville's house ten days after the delivery ofthe fourth letter, a really impressive threat when it was remembered thatthe enemy had never announced anything that did not take place at thestated hour. And, although it was still ten days--at least, so peoplethought--from the date fixed for the catastrophe, the threat made thewhole business look more and more sinister.
That evening, therefore, a great crowd made its way, through La Muetteand Auteuil, to the Boulevard Suchet, a crowd coming not only from Paris,but also from the suburbs and the provinces. The spectacle was exciting,and people wanted to see.
They saw only from a distance, for the police had barred the approachesa hundred yards from either side of the house and were driving into theditches of the fortifications all those who managed to climb theopposite slope.
The sky was stormy, with heavy clouds revealed at intervals by the lightof a silver moon. There were lightning-flashes and peals of distantthunder. Men sang. Street-boys imitated the noises of animals. Peopleformed themselves into groups on the benches and pavements and ate anddrank while discussing the matter.
A part of the night was spent in this way and nothing happened to rewardthe patience of the crowd, who began to wonder, somewhat wearily, if theywould not do better to go home, seeing that Sauverand was in prison andthat there was every chance that the fourth letter would not appear inthe same mysterious way as the others.
And yet they did not go: Don Luis Perenna was due to come!
From ten o'clock in the evening the Prefect of Police and his secretarygeneral, the chief detective and Weber, his deputy, Sergeant Mazeroux,and two detectives were gathered in the large room in which Fauville hadbeen murdered. Fifteen more detectives occupied the remaining rooms,while some twenty others watched the roofs, the outside of the house, andthe garden.
Once again a thorough search had been made during the afternoon, with nobetter results than before. But it was decided that all the men shouldkeep awake. If the letter was delivered anywhere in the big room, theywanted to know and they meant to know who brought it. The police do notrecognize miracles.
At twelve o'clock M. Desmalions had coffee served to his subordinates. Hehimself took two cups and never ceased walking from one end to the otherof the room, or climbing the staircase that led to the attic, or goingthrough the passage and hall. Preferring that the watch should bemaintained under the most favourable conditions, he left all the doorsopened and all the electric lights on.
Mazeroux objected:
"It has to be dark for the letter to come. You will remember, Monsieur lePrefet, that the other experiment was tried before and the letter was notdelivered."
"We will try it again," replied M. Desmalions, who, in spite ofeverything, was really afraid of Don Luis's interference, and increasedhis measures to make it impossible.
Meanwhile, as the night wore on, the minds of all those present becameimpatient. Prepared for the angry struggle as they were, they longed forthe opportunity to show their strength. They made desperate use of theirears and eyes.
At one o'clock there was an alarm that showed the pitch which the nervoustension had reached. A shot was fired on the first floor, followed byshouts. On inquiry, it was found that two detectives, meeting in thecourse of a round, had not recognized each other, and one of them haddischarged his revolver in the air to inform his comrades.
In the meantime the crowd outside had diminished, as M. Desmalionsperceived on opening the garden gate. The orders had been relaxed andsightseers were allowed to come nearer, though they were still kept at adistance from the pavement.
Mazeroux said:
"It is a good thing that the explosion is due in ten days' time and notto-night, Monsieur le Prefet; otherwise, all those good people would bein danger as well as ourselves."
"There will be no explosion in ten days' time, any more than there willbe a letter to-night," said M. Desmalions, shrugging his shoulders. Andhe added, "Besides, on that day, the orders will be strict."
It was now ten minutes past two.
At twenty-five minutes past, as the Prefect was lighting a cigar, thechief detective ventured to joke:
"That's something you will have to do without, next time, Monsieur lePrefet. It would be too risky."
"Next time," said M. Desmalions, "I shall not waste time in keepingwatch. For I really begin to think that all this business with theletters is over."
"You can never tell," suggested Mazeroux.
A few minutes more passed. M. Desmalions had sat down. The others alsowere seated. No one spoke.
And suddenly they all sprang up, with one movement, and the sameexpression of surprise.
A bell had rung.
They at once heard where the sound came from.
"The telephone," M. Desmalions muttered.
He took down the receiver.
"Hullo! Who are you?"
A voice answered, but so distant and so faint that he could only catch anincoherent noise and exclaimed:
"Speak louder! What is it? Who are you?"
The voice spluttered out a few syllables that seemed to astound him.
"Hullo!" he said. "I don't understand. Please repeat what you said. Whois it speaking?"
"Don Luis Perenna," was the answer, more distinctly this time.
The Prefect made as though to hang up the receiver; and he growled:
"It's a hoax. Some rotter amusing himself at our expense."
Nevertheless, in spite of himself, he went on in a gruff voice:
"Look here, what is it? You say you're Don Luis Perenna?"
"Yes."
"What do you want?"
"What's the time?"
"What's the time!"
The Prefect made an angry gesture, not so much because of theridiculous question as because he had really recognized Don Luis'svoice beyond mistake.
"Well?" he said, controlling himself. "What's all this about?Where are you?"
"At my house, above the iron curtain, in the ceiling of my study."
"In the ceiling!" repeated the Prefect, not knowing what to think.
"Yes; and more or less done for, I confess."
"We'll send and help you out," said M
. Desmalions, who was beginning toenjoy himself.
"Later on, Monsieur le Prefet. First answer me. Quickly! If not, I don'tknow that I shall have the strength. What's the time?"
"Oh, look here!"
"I beg of you--"
"It's twenty minutes to three."
"Twenty minutes to three!"
It was as though Don Luis found renewed strength in a sudden fit of fear.His weak voice recovered its emphasis, and, by turns imperious,despairing, and beseeching, full of a conviction which he did his utmostto impart to M. Desmalions, he said:
"Go away, Monsieur le Prefet! Go, all of you; leave the house. The housewill be blown up at three o'clock. Yes, yes, I swear it will. Ten daysafter the fourth letter means now, because there has been a ten days'delay in the delivery of the letters. It means now, at three o'clock inthe morning. Remember what was written on the sheet which Deputy ChiefWeber handed you this morning: 'The explosion is independent of theletters. It will take place at three o'clock in the morning.' At threeo'clock in the morning, to-day, Monsieur le Prefet!" The voice falteredand then continued:
"Go away, please. Let no one remain in the house. You must believe me. Iknow everything about the business. And nothing can prevent the threatfrom being executed. Go, go, go! This is horrible; I feel that you do notbelieve me--and I have no strength left. Go away, every one of you!"
He said a few more words which M. Desmalions could not make out. Then thevoice ceased; and, though the Prefect still heard cries, it seemed to himthat those cries were distant, as though the instrument were no longerwithin the reach of the mouth that uttered them.
He hung up the receiver.
"Gentlemen," he said, with a smile, "it is seventeen to three. Inseventeen minutes we shall all be blown up together. At least, that iswhat our good friend Don Luis Perenna declares."
In spite of the jokes with which this threat was met, there was a generalfeeling of uneasiness. Weber asked:
"Was it really Don Luis, Monsieur le Prefet?"
"Don Luis in person. He has gone to earth in some hiding-hole in hishouse, above the study; and his fatigue and privations seem to haveunsettled him a little. Mazeroux, go and ferret him out--unless this isjust some fresh trick on his part. You have your warrant."
Sergeant Mazeroux went up to M. Desmalions. His face was pallid.
"Monsieur le Prefet, did _he_ tell you that we were going to beblown up?"
"He did. He relies on the note which M. Weber found in a volume ofShakespeare. The explosion is to take place to-night."
"At three o'clock in the morning?"
"At three o'clock in the morning--that is to say, in less than a quarterof an hour."
"And do you propose to remain, Monsieur le Prefet?"
"What next, Sergeant? Do you imagine that we are going to obey thatgentleman's fancies?"
Mazeroux staggered, hesitated, and then, despite all his naturaldeference, unable to contain himself, exclaimed:
"Monsieur le Prefet, it's not a fancy. I have worked with Don Luis. Iknow the man. If he tells you that something is going to happen, it'sbecause he has his reasons."
"Absurd reasons."
"No, no, Monsieur le Prefet," Mazeroux pleaded, growing more and moreexcited. "I swear that you must listen to him. The house will be blownup--he said so--at three o'clock. We have a few minutes left. Let us go.I entreat you, Monsieur le Prefet."
"In other words, you want us to run away."
"But it's not running away, Monsieur le Prefet. It's a simple precaution.After all, we can't risk--You, yourself, Monsieur le Prefet--"
"That will do."
"But, Monsieur le Prefet, as Don Luis said--"
"That will do, I say!" repeated the Prefect harshly. "If you're afraid,you can take advantage of the order which I gave you and go off afterDon Luis."
Mazeroux clicked his heels together and, old soldier that he was,saluted:
"I shall stay here, Monsieur le Prefet."
And he turned and went back to his place at a distance.
* * * * *
Silence followed. M. Desmalions began to walk up and down the room, withhis hands behind his back. Then, addressing the chief detective and thesecretary general:
"You are of my opinion, I hope?" he said.
"Why, yes, Monsieur le Prefet."
"Well, of course! To begin with, that supposition is based on nothingserious. And, besides, we are guarded, aren't we? Bombs don't cometumbling on one's head like that. It takes some one to throw them. Well,how are they to come? By what way?"
"Same way as the letters," the secretary general ventured to suggest.
"What's that? Then you admit--?"
The secretary general did not reply and M. Desmalions did not completehis sentence. He himself, like the others, experienced that same feelingof uneasiness which gradually, as the seconds sped past, was becomingalmost intolerably painful.
Three o'clock in the morning! ... The words kept on recurring to hismind. Twice he looked at his watch. There was twelve minutes left. Therewas ten minutes. Was the house really going to be blown up, by the mereeffect of an infernal and all-powerful will?
"It's senseless, absolutely senseless!" he cried, stamping his foot.
But, on looking at his companions, he was amazed to see how drawn theirfaces were; and he felt his courage sink in a strange way. He wascertainly not afraid; and the others were no more afraid than he. But allof them, from the chiefs to the simple detectives, were under theinfluence of that Don Luis Perenna whom they had seen accomplishing suchextraordinary feats, and who had shown such wonderful ability throughoutthis mysterious adventure.
Consciously or unconsciously, whether they wished it or no, they lookedupon him as an exceptional being endowed with special faculties, abeing of whom they could not think without conjuring up the image ofthe amazing Arsene Lupin, with his legend of daring, genius, andsuperhuman insight.
And Lupin was telling them to fly. Pursued and hunted as he was, hevoluntarily gave himself up to warn them of their danger. And the dangerwas immediate. Seven minutes more, six minutes more--and the house wouldbe blown up.
With great simplicity, Mazeroux went on his knees, made the sign of thecross, and said his prayers in a low voice. The action was so impressivethat the secretary general and the chief detective made a movement asthough to go toward the Prefect of Police.
M. Desmalions turned away his head and continued his walk up and down theroom. But his anguish increased; and the words which he had heard overthe telephone rang in his ears; and all Perenna's authority, his ardententreaties, his frenzied conviction--all this upset him. He had seenPerenna at work. He felt it borne in upon him that he had no right, inthe present circumstances, to neglect the man's warning.
"Let's go," he said.
The words were spoken in the calmest manner; and it really seemed as ifthose who heard them regarded them merely as the sensible conclusion ofa very ordinary state of affairs. They went away without hurry ordisorder, not as fugitives, but as men deliberately obeying the dictatesof prudence.
They stood back at the door to let the Prefect go first.
"No," he said, "go on; I'll follow you."
He was the last out, leaving the electric light full on.
In the hall he asked the chief detective to blow his whistle. When allthe plain-clothesmen had assembled, he sent them out of the housetogether with the porter, and shut the door behind him. Then, calling thedetectives who were watching the boulevard, he said:
"Let everybody stand a good distance away; push the crowd as far backas you can; and be quick about it. We shall enter the house again inhalf an hour."
"And you, Monsieur le Prefet?" whispered Mazeroux, "You won't remainhere, I hope?"
"No, that I shan't!" he said, laughing. "If I take our friend Perenna'sadvice at all, I may as well take it thoroughly!"
"There is only two minutes left."
"Our friend Perenna spoke of three o'clock, not of
two minutes tothree. So--"
He crossed the boulevard, accompanied by his secretary general, the chiefdetective, and Mazeroux, and clambered up the slope of the fortificationsopposite the house.
"Perhaps we ought to stoop down," suggested Mazeroux.
"Let's stoop, by all means," said the Prefect, still in a good humour."But, honestly, if there's no explosion, I shall send a bullet through myhead. I could not go on living after making myself look so ridiculous."
"There will be an explosion, Monsieur le Prefet," declared Mazeroux.
"What confidence you must have in our friend Don Luis!"
"You have just the same confidence, Monsieur le Prefet."
They were silent, irritated by the wait, and struggling with the absurdanxiety that oppressed them. They counted the seconds singly, by thebeating of their hearts. It was interminable.
Three o'clock sounded from somewhere.
"You see," grinned M. Desmalions, in an altered voice, "you see! There'snothing, thank goodness!"
And he growled:
"It's idiotic, perfectly idiotic! How could any one imagine suchnonsense!"
Another clock struck, farther away. Then the hour also rang from the roofof a neighbouring building.
Before the third stroke had sounded they heard a kind of cracking, and,the next moment, came the terrible blast, complete, but so brief thatthey had only, so to speak, a vision of an immense sheaf of flames andsmoke shooting forth enormous stones and pieces of wall, something likethe grand finale of a fireworks display. And it was all over. The volcanohad erupted.
"Look sharp!" shouted the Prefect of Police, darting forward. "Telephonefor the engines, quick, in case of fire!"
He caught Mazeroux by the arm:
"Run to my motor; you'll see her a hundred yards down the boulevard. Tellthe man to drive you to Don Luis, and, if you find him, release him andbring him here."
"Under arrest, Monsieur le Prefet?"
"Under arrest? You're mad!"
"But, if the deputy chief--"
"The deputy chief will keep his mouth shut. I'll see to that. Be off!"
Mazeroux fulfilled his mission, not with greater speed than if he hadbeen sent to arrest Don Luis, for Mazeroux was a conscientious man, butwith extraordinary pleasure. The fight which he had been obliged to wageagainst the man whom he still called "the chief" had often distressed himto the point of tears. This time he was coming to help him, perhaps tosave his life.
That afternoon the deputy chief had ceased his search of the house, by M.Desmalions's orders, as Don Luis's escape seemed certain, and left onlythree men on duty. Mazeroux found them in a room on the ground floor,where they were sitting up in turns. In reply to his questions, theydeclared that they had not heard a sound.
He went upstairs alone, so as to have no witnesses to his interview withthe governor, passed through the drawing-room and entered the study.
Here he was overcome with anxiety, for, after turning on the light, thefirst glance revealed nothing to his eyes.
"Chief!" he cried, repeatedly. "Where are you, Chief?"
No answer.
"And yet," thought Mazeroux, "as he telephoned, he can't be far away."
In fact, he saw from where he stood that the receiver was hanging fromits cord; and, going on to the telephone box, he stumbled over bits ofbrick and plaster that strewed the carpet. He then switched on thelight in the box as well and saw a hand and arm hanging from theceiling above him. The ceiling was broken up all around that arm. Butthe shoulder had not been able to pass through; and Mazeroux could notsee the captive's head.
He sprang on to a chair and reached the hand. He felt it and wasreassured by the warmth of its touch.
"Is that you, Mazeroux?" asked a voice that seemed to the sergeant tocome from very far away.
"Yes, it's I. You're not wounded, are you? Nothing serious?"
"No, only stunned--and a bit faint--from hunger.... Listen to me."
"I'm listening."
"Open the second drawer on the left in my writing-desk.... You'll find--"
"Yes, Chief?"
"An old stick of chocolate."
"But--"
"Do as I tell you, Alexandre; I'm famished."
Indeed, Don Luis recovered after a moment or two and said, in agayer voice:
"That's better. I can wait now. Go to the kitchen and fetch me some breadand some water."
"I'll be back at once, Chief."
"Not this way. Come back by Florence Levasseur's room and the secretpassage to the ladder which leads to the trapdoor at the top."
And he told him how to make the stone swing out and how to enter thehollow in which he had expected to meet with such a tragic end.
The thing was done in ten minutes. Mazeroux cleared the opening, caughthold of Don Luis by the legs and pulled him out of his hole.
"Oh, dear, oh dear!" he moaned, in a voice full of pity. "What aposition, Chief! How did you manage it all? Yes, I see: you must have dugdown, where you lay, and gone on digging--for more than a yard! And ittook some pluck, I expect, on an empty stomach!"
When Don Luis was seated in his bedroom and had swallowed a few bits ofbread and drunk what he wanted, he told his story:
"Yes, it took the devil's own pluck, old man. By Jingo! when a chap'sideas are whirling in his head and he can't use his brain, upon my word,all he asks is to die? And then there was no air, you see. I couldn'tbreathe. I went on digging, however, as you saw, went on digging while Iwas half asleep, in a sort of nightmare. Just look: my fingers are in ajelly. But there, I was thinking of that confounded business of theexplosion and I wanted to warn you at all costs, and I dug away at mytunnel. What a job! And then, oof! I felt space at last!
"I got my hand through and next my arm. Where was I? Why, over thetelephone, of course! I knew that at once by feeling the wall and findingthe wires. Then it took me quite half an hour to get hold of theinstrument. I couldn't reach it with my arm.
"I managed at last with a piece of string and a slip-knot to fish up thereceiver and hold it near my mouth, or, say, at ten inches from my mouth.And then I shouted and roared to make my voice carry; and, all the time,I was in pain. And then, at last, my string broke.... And then--andthen--I hadn't an ounce of strength left in my body. Besides, you fellowshad been warned; and it was for you to get yourselves out of the mess."
He looked at Mazeroux and asked him, as though certain of the reply:
"The explosion took place, didn't it?"
"Yes, Chief."
"At three o'clock exactly?"
"Yes."
"And of course M. Desmalions had the house cleared?"
"Yes."
"At the last minute?"
"At the last minute."
Don Luis laughed and said:
"I knew he would wait about and not give way until the crucial moment.You must have had a bad time of it, my poor Mazeroux, for of course youagreed with me from the start."
He kept on eating while he talked; and each mouthful seemed to bring backa little of his usual animation.
"Funny thing, hunger!" he said. "Makes you feel so light-headed. I mustpractise getting used to it, however."
"At any rate, Chief, no one would believe that you have been fasting fornearly forty-eight hours."
"Ah, that comes of having a sound constitution, with something to fallback upon! I shall be a different man in half an hour. Just give me timeto shave and have a bath."
When he had finished dressing, he sat down to the breakfast of eggsand cold meat which Mazeroux had prepared for him; and then,getting up, said:
"Now, let's be off."
"But there's no hurry, Chief. Why don't you lie down for a few hours? ThePrefect can wait."
"You're mad! What about Marie Fauville?"
"Marie Fauville?"
"Why, of course! Do you think I'm going to leave her in prison, orSauverand, either? There's not a second to lose, old chap."
Mazeroux thought to himself that the chief had
not quite recovered hiswits yet. What? Release Marie Fauville and Sauverand, one, two, three,just like that! No, no, it was going a bit too far.
However, he took down to the Prefect's car a new Perenna, merry, brisk,and as fresh as though he had just got out of bed.
"Very flattering to my pride," said Don Luis to Mazeroux, "mostflattering, that hesitation of the Prefect's, after I had warned him overthe telephone, followed by his submission at the decisive moment. What ahold I must have on all those jokers, to make them sit up at a sign fromlittle me! 'Beware, gentlemen!' I telephone to them from the bottomlesspit. 'Beware! At three o'clock, a bomb!' 'Nonsense!' say they. 'Not a bitof it!' say I. 'How do you know?' 'Because I do.' 'But what proof haveyou?' 'What proof? That I say so.' 'Oh, well, of course, if you say so!'And, at five minutes to three, out they march. Ah, if I wasn't built upof modesty--"
They came to the Boulevard Suchet, where the crowd was so dense that theyhad to alight from the car. Mazeroux passed through the cordon of policeprotecting the approaches to the house and took Don Luis to the slopeacross the road.
"Wait for me here, Chief. I'll tell the Prefect of Police."
On the other side of the boulevard, under the pale morning sky in which afew black clouds still lingered, Don Luis saw the havoc wrought by theexplosion. It was apparently not so great as he had expected. Some of theceilings had fallen in and their rubbish showed through the yawningcavities of the windows; but the house remained standing. Even Fauville'sbuilt-out annex had not suffered overmuch, and, strange to say, theelectric light, which the Prefect had left burning on his departure, hadnot gone out. The garden and the road were covered with stacks offurniture, over which a number of soldiers and police kept watch.
"Come with me, Chief," said Mazeroux, as he fetched Don Luis and led himtoward the engineer's workroom.
A part of the floor was demolished. The outer walls on the left, near thepassage, were cracked; and two workmen were fixing up beams, brought fromthe nearest timber yard, to support the ceiling. But, on the whole, theexplosion had not had the results which the man who prepared it must haveanticipated.
M. Desmalions was there, together with all the men who had spent thenight in the room and several important persons from the publicprosecutor's office. Weber, the deputy chief detective, alone had gone,refusing to meet his enemy.
Don Luis's arrival caused great excitement. The Prefect at once came upto him and said:
"All our thanks, Monsieur. Your insight is above praise. You havesaved our lives; and these gentlemen and I wish to tell you so mostemphatically. In my case, it is the second time that I have tothank you."
"There is a very simple way of thanking me, Monsieur le Prefet," said DonLuis, "and that is to allow me to carry out my task to the end."
"Your task?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Prefet. My action of last night is only the beginning.The conclusion is the release of Marie Fauville and Gaston Sauverand."
M. Desmalions smiled.
"Oh!"
"Am I asking too much, Monsieur le Prefet?"
"One can always ask, but the request should be reasonable. And theinnocence of those people does not depend on me."
"No; but it depends on you, Monsieur le Prefet, to let them know if Iprove their innocence to you."
"Yes, I agree, if you prove it beyond dispute."
"Just so."
Don Luis's calm assurance impressed M. Desmalions in spite of everythingand even more than on the former occasions; and he suggested:
"The results of the hasty inspection which we have made will perhaps helpyou. For instance, we are certain that the bomb was placed by theentrance to the passage and probably under the boards of the floor."
"Please do not trouble, Monsieur le Prefet. These are only secondarydetails. The great thing now is that you should know the whole truth, andthat not only through words."
The Prefect had come closer. The magistrate and detectives were standinground Don Luis, watching his lips and movements with feverish impatience.Was it possible that that truth, as yet so remote and vague, in spite ofall the importance which they attached to the arrests already effected,was known at last?
It was a solemn moment. Every one was on tenterhooks. The manner in whichDon Luis had foretold the explosion lent the value of an accomplishedfact to his predictions; and the men whom he had saved from the terriblecatastrophe were almost ready to accept as certainties the mostimprobable statements which a man of his stamp might make.
"Monsieur le Prefet," he said, "you waited in vain last night for thefourth letter to make its appearance. We shall now be able, by anunexpected miracle of chance, to be present at the delivery of theletter. You will then know that it was the same hand that committed allthe crimes--and you will know whose hand that was."
And, turning to Mazeroux:
"Sergeant, will you please make the room as dark as you can? Theshutters are gone; but you might draw the curtains across the windowsand close the doors. Monsieur le Prefet, is it by accident that theelectric light is on?"
"Yes, by accident. We will have it turned out."
"One moment. Have any of you gentlemen a pocket lantern about you? Or,no, it doesn't matter. This will do."
There was a candle in a sconce. He took it and lit it.
Then he switched off the electric light.
There was a half darkness, amid which the flame of the candle flickeredin the draught from the windows. Don Luis protected the flame with hishand and moved to the table.
"I do not think that we shall be kept waiting long," he said. "As Iforesee it, there will be only a few seconds before the facts speak forthemselves and better than I could do."
Those few seconds, during which no one broke the silence, wereunforgettable. M. Desmalions has since declared, in an interview in whichhe ridicules himself very cleverly, that his brain, over-stimulated bythe fatigues of the night and by the whole scene before him, imagined themost unlikely events, such as an invasion of the house by armedassailants, or the apparition of ghosts and spirits.
He had the curiosity, however, he said, to watch Don Luis. Sitting onthe edge of the table, with his head thrown a little back and hiseyes roaming over the ceiling, Don Luis was eating a piece of breadand nibbling at a cake of chocolate. He seemed very hungry, but quiteat his ease.
The others maintained that tense attitude which we put on at moments ofgreat physical effort. Their faces were distorted with a sort ofgrimace. They were haunted by the memory of the explosion as well asobsessed by what was going to happen. The flame of the candle castshadows on the wall.
More seconds elapsed than Don Luis Perenna had said, thirty or fortyseconds, perhaps, that seemed endless. Then Perenna lifted the candle alittle and said:
"There you are."
They had all seen what they now saw almost as soon as he spoke. A letterwas descending from the ceiling. It spun round slowly, like a leaffalling from a tree without being driven by the wind. It just touched DonLuis and alighted on the floor between two legs of the table.
Picking up the paper and handing it to M. Desmalions, Don Luis said:
"There you are, Monsieur le Prefet. This is the fourth letter, duelast night."