CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WEBER TAKES HIS REVENGE
Don Luis was for one moment amazed. Florence Levasseur here! Florence,whom he had left in the train under Mazeroux's supervision and for whomit was physically impossible to be back in Paris before eight o'clock inthe evening!
Then, despite his bewilderment, he at once understood. Florence, knowingthat she was being followed, had drawn them after her to the GareSaint-Lazare and simply walked through the railway carriage, getting outon the other platform, while the worthy Mazeroux went on in the train tokeep his eye on the traveller who was not there.
But suddenly the full horror of the situation struck him. Florence washere to claim the inheritance; and her claim, as he himself had said, wasa proof of the most terrible guilt.
Acting on an irresistible impulse, Don Luis leaped to the girl's side,seized her by the arm and said, with almost malevolent force:
"What are you doing here? What have you come for? Why did you notlet me know?"
M. Desmalions stepped between them. But Don Luis, without letting go ofthe girl's arm, exclaimed:
"Oh, Monsieur le Prefet, don't you see that this is all a mistake? Theperson whom we are expecting, about whom I told you, is not this one. Theother is keeping in the background, as usual. Why it's impossible thatFlorence Levasseur--"
"I have no preconceived opinion on the subject of this young lady," saidthe Prefect of Police, in an authoritative voice. "But it is my duty toquestion her about the circumstances that brought her here; and I shallcertainly do so."
He released the girl from Don Luis's grasp and made her take a seat. Hehimself sat down at his desk; and it was easy to see how great animpression the girl's presence made upon him. It afforded so to speak anillustration of Don Luis's argument.
The appearance on the scene of a new person, laying claim to theinheritance, was undeniably, to any logical mind, the appearance on thescene of a criminal who herself brought with her the proofs of hercrimes. Don Luis felt this clearly and, from that moment, did not takehis eyes off the Prefect of Police.
Florence looked at them by turns as though the whole thing was the mostinsoluble mystery to her. Her beautiful dark eyes retained theircustomary serenity. She no longer wore her nurse's uniform; and her graygown, very simply cut and devoid of ornaments, showed her gracefulfigure. She was grave and unemotional as usual.
M. Desmalions said:
"Explain yourself, Mademoiselle."
She answered:
"I have nothing to explain, Monsieur le Prefet. I have come to you on anerrand which I am fulfilling without knowing exactly what it is about."
"What do you mean? Without knowing what it is about?"
"I will tell you, Monsieur le Prefet. Some one in whom I have everyconfidence and for whom I entertain the greatest respect asked me to handyou certain papers. They appear to concern the question which is theobject of your meeting to-day."
"The question of awarding the Mornington inheritance?"
"Yes."
"You know that, if this claim had not been made in the course of thepresent sitting, it would have had no effect?"
"I came as soon as the papers were handed to me."
"Why were they not handed to you an hour or two earlier?"
"I was not there. I had to leave the house where I am staying, in ahurry."
Perenna did not doubt that it was his intervention that upset the enemy'splans by causing Florence to take to flight.
The Prefect continued:
"So you are ignorant of the reasons why you received the papers?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Prefet."
"And evidently you are also ignorant of how far they concern you?"
"They do not concern me, Monsieur le Prefet."
M. Desmalions smiled and, looking into Florence's eyes, said, plainly:
"According to the letter that accompanies them, they concern youintimately. It seems that they prove, in the most positive manner, thatyou are descended from the Roussel family and that you consequently haveevery right to the Mornington inheritance."
"I?"
The cry was a spontaneous exclamation of astonishment and protest.
And she at once went on, insistently:
"I, a right to the inheritance? I have none at all, Monsieur le Prefet,none at all. I never knew Mr. Mornington. What is this story? There issome mistake."
She spoke with great animation and with an apparent frankness that wouldhave impressed any other man than the Prefect of Police. But how could heforget Don Luis's arguments and the accusation made beforehand againstthe person who would arrive at the meeting?
"Give me the papers," he said.
She took from her handbag a blue envelope which was not fastened down andwhich he found to contain a number of faded documents, damaged at thefolds and torn in different places.
He examined them amid perfect silence, read them through, studied themthoroughly, inspected the signatures and the seals through a magnifyingglass, and said:
"They bear every sign of being genuine. The seals are official."
"Then, Monsieur le Prefet--?" said Florence, in a trembling voice.
"Then, Mademoiselle, let me tell you that your ignorance strikes me asmost incredible."
And, turning to the solicitor, he said:
"Listen briefly to what these documents contain and prove. GastonSauverand, Cosmo Mornington's heir in the fourth line, had, as you know,an elder brother, called Raoul, who lived in the Argentine Republic. Thisbrother, before his death, sent to Europe, in the charge of an old nurse,a child of five who was none other than his daughter, a natural butlegally recognized daughter whom he had had by Mlle. Levasseur, a Frenchteacher at Buenos Ayres.
"Here is the birth certificate. Here is the signed declaration writtenentirely in the father's hand. Here is the affidavit signed by the oldnurse. Here are the depositions of three friends, merchants orsolicitors at Buenos Ayres. And here are the death certificates of thefather and mother.
"All these documents have been legalized and bear the seals of the Frenchconsulate. For the present, I have no reason to doubt them; and I ambound to look upon Florence Levasseur as Raoul Sauverand's daughter andGaston Sauverand's niece."
"Gaston Sauvarand's niece? ... His niece?" stammered Florence.
The mention of a father whom she had, so to speak, never known, left herunmoved. But she began to weep at the recollection of Gaston Sauverand,whom she loved so fondly and to whom she found herself linked by such aclose relationship.
Were her tears sincere? Or were they the tears of an actress able to playher part down to the slightest details? Were those facts really revealedto her for the first time? Or was she acting the emotions which therevelation of those facts would produce in her under natural conditions?
Don Luis observed M. Desmalions even more narrowly than he did the girl,and tried to read the secret thoughts of the man with whom the decisionlay. And suddenly he became certain that Florence's arrest was a matterresolved upon as definitely as the arrest of the most monstrous criminal.Then he went up to her and said:
"Florence."
She looked at him with her tear-dimmed eyes and made no reply.
Slowly, he said:
"To defend yourself, Florence--for, though I am sure you do not know it,you are under that obligation--you must understand the terrible positionin which events have placed you.
"Florence, the Prefect of Police has been led by the logical outcome ofthose events to come to the final conclusion that the person enteringthis room with an evident claim to the inheritance is the person whokilled the Mornington heirs. You entered the room, Florence, and you areundoubtedly Cosmo Mornington's heir."
He saw her shake from head to foot and turn as pale as death.Nevertheless, she uttered no word and made no gesture of protest.
He went on:
"It is a formal accusation. Do you say nothing in reply?"
She waited some time and then declared:
"I have
nothing to say. The whole thing is a mystery. What would you haveme reply? I do not understand!"
Don Luis stood quivering with anguish in front of her. He stammered:
"Is that all? Do you accept?"
After a second, she said, in an undertone:
"Explain yourself, I beg of you. What you mean, I suppose, is that, if Ido not reply, I accept the accusation?"
"Yes."
"And then?"
"Arrest--prison--"
"Prison!"
She seemed to be suffering hideously. Her beautiful features weredistorted with fear. To her mind, prison evidently represented thetorments undergone by Marie and Sauverand. It must mean despair, shame,death, all those horrors which Marie and Sauverand had been unable toavoid and of which she in her turn would become the victim.
An awful sense of hopelessness overcame her, and she moaned:
"How tired I am! I feel that there is nothing to be done! I am stifled bythe mystery around me! Oh, if I could only see and understand!"
There was another long pause. Leaning over her, M. Desmalions studied herface with concentrated attention. Then, as she did not speak, he put hishand to the bell on his table and struck it three times.
Don Luis did not stir from where he stood, with his eyes despairinglyfixed on Florence. A battle was raging within him between his love andgenerosity, which led him to believe the girl, and his reason, whichobliged him to suspect her. Was she innocent or guilty? He did not know.Everything was against her. And yet why had he never ceased to love her?
Weber entered, followed by his men. M. Desmalions spoke to him andpointed to Florence. Weber went up to her.
"Florence!" said Don Luis.
She looked at him and looked at Weber and his men; and, suddenly,realizing what was coming, she retreated, staggered for a moment,bewildered and fainting, and fell back in Don Luis's arms:
"Oh, save me, save me! Do save me!"
The action was so natural and unconstrained, the cry of distress soclearly denoted the alarm which only the innocent can feel, that DonLuis was promptly convinced. A fervent belief in her lightened hisheart. His doubts, his caution, his hesitation, his anguish: all thesevanished before a certainty that dashed upon him like an irresistiblewave. And he cried:
"No, no, that must not be! Monsieur le Prefet, there are things thatcannot be permitted--"
He stooped over Florence, whom he was holding so firmly in his arms thatnobody could have taken her from him. Their eyes met. His face was closeto the girl's. He quivered with emotion at feeling her throbbing, soweak, so utterly helpless; and he said to her passionately, in a voicetoo low for any but her to hear:
"I love you, I love you.... Ah, Florence, if you only knew what I feel:how I suffer and how happy I am! Oh, Florence, I love you, I love you--"
Weber had stood aside, at a sign from the Prefect, who wanted to witnessthe unexpected conflict between those two mysterious beings, Don LuisPerenna and Florence Levasseur.
Don Luis unloosed his arms and placed the girl in a chair. Then, puttinghis two hands on her shoulders, face to face with her, he said:
"Though you do not understand, Florence, I am beginning to understand agood deal; and I can already almost see my way in the mystery thatterrifies you. Florence, listen to me. It is not you who are doing allthis, is it? There is somebody else behind you, above you--somebody whogives you your instructions, isn't there, while you yourself don't knowwhere he is leading you?"
"Nobody is instructing me. What do you mean? Explain."
"Yes, you are not alone in your life. There are many things which you dobecause you are told to do them and because you think them right andbecause you do not know their consequences or even that they can have anyconsequences. Answer my question: are you absolutely free? Are you notyielding to some influence?"
The girl seemed to have come to herself, and her face recovered some ofits usual calmness. Nevertheless, it seemed as if Don Luis's questionmade an impression on her.
"No," she said, "there is no influence--none at all--I'm sure of it."
He insisted, with growing eagerness:
"No, you are not sure; don't say that. Some one is dominating you withoutyour knowing it. Think for a moment. You are Cosmo Mornington's heir,heir to a fortune which you don't care about, I know, I swear! Well, ifyou don't want that fortune, to whom will it belong? Answer me. Is thereany one who is interested or believes himself interested in seeing yourich? The whole question lies in that. Is your life linked with that ofsome one else? Is he a friend of yours? Are you engaged to him?"
She gave a start of revolt.
"Oh, never! The man of whom you speak is incapable--"
"Ah," he cried, overcome with jealousy, "you confess it! So the man ofwhom I speak exists! I swear that the villain--"
He turned toward M. Desmalions, his face convulsed with hatred. He madeno further effort to contain himself:
"Monsieur le Prefet, we are in sight of the goal. I know the road thatwill lead us to it. The wild beast shall be hunted down to-night, orto-morrow at least. Monsieur le Prefet, the letter that accompanied thosedocuments, the unsigned letter which this young lady handed you, waswritten by the mother superior who manages a nursing-home in the Avenuedes Ternes.
"By making immediate inquiries at that nursing-home, by questioning thesuperior and confronting her with Mlle. Levasseur, we shall discover theidentity of the criminal himself. But we must not lose a minute, or weshall be too late and the wild beast will have fled."
His outburst was irresistible. There was no fighting against the violenceof his conviction. Still, M. Desmalions objected:
"Mlle. Levasseur could tell us--"
"She will not speak, or at least not till later, when the man has beenunmasked in her presence. Monsieur le Prefet, I entreat you to have thesame confidence in me as before. Have not all my promises been fulfilled?Have confidence, Monsieur le Prefet; cast aside your doubts. Remember howMarie Fauville and Gaston Sauverand were overwhelmed with charges, themost serious charges, and how they succumbed in spite of their innocence.
"Does the law wish to see Florence Levasseur sacrificed as the two otherswere? And, besides, what I ask for is not her release, but the means todefend her--that is to say, an hour or two's delay. Let Deputy ChiefWeber be responsible for her safe custody. Let your detectives go withus: these and more as well, for we cannot have too many to capture theloathsome brute in his lair."
M. Desmalions did not reply. After a brief moment he took Weberaside and talked to him for some minutes. M. Desmalions did not seemvery favourably disposed toward Don Luis's request. But Weber washeard to say:
"You need have no fear, Monsieur le Prefet. We run no risk."
And M. Desmalions yielded.
A few moments later Don Luis Perenna and Florence Levasseur took theirseats in a motor car with Weber and two inspectors. Another car, filledwith detectives, followed.
The hospital was literally invested by the police force and Weberneglected none of the precautions of a regular siege.
The Prefect of Police, who arrived in his own car, was shown by themanservant into the waiting-room and then into the parlour, where themother superior came to him at once. Without delay or preamble of anysort he put his questions to her, in the presence of Don Luis, Weber,and Florence:
"Reverend mother," he said, "I have a letter here which was brought tome at headquarters and which tells me of the existence of certaindocuments concerning a legacy. According to my information, this letter,which is unsigned and which is in a disguised hand, was written by you.Is that so?"
The mother superior, a woman with a powerful face and a determined air,replied, without embarrassment:
"That is so, Monsieur le Prefet. As I had the honour to tell you in myletter, I would have preferred, for obvious reasons, that my name shouldnot be mentioned. Besides, the delivery of the documents was all thatmattered. However, since you know that I am the writer, I am prepared toanswer your questions."
&nbs
p; M. Desmalions continued, with a glance at Florence:
"I will first ask you, Reverend Mother, if you know this young lady?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Prefet. Florence was with us for six months as a nurse,a few years ago. She gave such satisfaction that I was glad to take herback this day fortnight. As I had read her story in the papers, I simplyasked her to change her name. We had a new staff at the hospital, and itwas therefore a safe refuge for her."
"But, as you have read the papers, you must be aware of the accusationsagainst her?"
"Those accusations have no weight, Monsieur le Prefet, with any one whoknows Florence. She has one of the noblest characters and one of thestrictest consciences that I have ever met with."
The Prefect continued:
"Let us speak of the documents, Reverend Mother. Where do theycome from?"
"Yesterday, Monsieur le Prefet, I found in my room a communication inwhich the writer proposed to send me some papers that interested FlorenceLevasseur--"
"How did any one know that she was here?" asked M. Desmalions,interrupting her.
"I can't tell you. The letter simply said that the papers would be atVersailles, at the _poste restante_, in my name, on a certain day--thatis to say, this morning. I was also asked not to mention them to anybodyand to hand them at three o'clock this afternoon to Florence Levasseur,with instructions to take them to the Prefect of Police at once. I wasalso requested to have a letter conveyed to Sergeant Mazeroux."
"To Sergeant Mazeroux! That's odd."
"That letter appeared to have to do with the same business. Now, I amvery fond of Florence. So I sent the letter, and this morning went toVersailles and found the papers there, as stated. When I got back,Florence was out. I was not able to hand them to her until her return, atabout four o'clock."
"Where were the papers posted?"
"In Paris. The postmark on the envelope was that of the Avenue Niel,which happens to be the nearest office to this."
"And did not the fact of finding that letter in your room strike youas strange?"
"Certainly, Monsieur le Prefet, but no stranger than all the otherincidents in the matter."
"Nevertheless," continued M. Desmalions, who was watching Florence's paleface, "nevertheless, when you saw that the instructions which youreceived came from this house and that they concerned a person living inthis house, did you not entertain the idea that that person--"
"The idea that Florence had entered the room, unknown to me, for such apurpose?" cried the superior. "Oh, Monsieur le Prefet, Florence isincapable of doing such a thing!"
The girl was silent, but her drawn features betrayed the feelings ofalarm that upset her.
Don Luis went up to her and said:
"The mystery is clearing, Florence, isn't it? And you are suffering inconsequence. Who put the letter in Mother Superior's room? You know,don't you? And you know who is conducting all this plot?"
She did not answer. Then, turning to the deputy chief, the Prefect said:
"Weber, please go and search the room which Mlle. Levasseur occupied."
And, in reply to the nun's protest:
"It is indispensable," he declared, "that we should know the reasons whyMlle. Levasseur preserves such an obstinate silence."
Florence herself led the way. But, as Weber was leaving the room, DonLuis exclaimed:
"Take care, Deputy Chief!"
"Take care? Why?"
"I don't know," said Don Luis, who really could not have said whyFlorence's behaviour was making him uneasy. "I don't know. Still, Iwarn you--"
Weber shrugged his shoulders and, accompanied by the superior, movedaway. In the hall he took two men with him. Florence walked ahead. Shewent up a flight of stairs and turned down a long corridor, with rooms oneither side of it, which, after turning a corner, led to a short and verynarrow passage ending in a door.
This was her room. The door opened not inward, into the room, butoutward, into the passage. Florence therefore drew it to her, steppingback as she did so, which obliged Weber to do likewise. She tookadvantage of this to rush in and close the door behind her so quicklythat the deputy chief, when he tried to grasp the handle, merelystruck the air.
He made an angry gesture:
"The baggage! She means to burn some papers!"
And, turning to the superior:
"Is there another exit to the room?"
"No, Monsieur."
He tried to open the door, but she had locked and bolted it. Then hestood aside to make way for one of his men, a giant, who, with one blowof his fist, smashed a panel.
Weber pushed by him, put his arm through the opening, drew the bolt,turned the key, pulled open the door and entered.
Florence was no longer in her room. A little open window opposite showedthe way she had taken.
"Oh, curse my luck!" he shouted. "She's cut off!"
And, hurrying back to the staircase, he roared over the balusters:
"Watch all the doors! She's got away! Collar her!"
M. Desmalions came hurrying up. Meeting the deputy, he received hisexplanations and then went on to Florence's room. The open window lookedout on a small inner yard, a sort of well which served to ventilate apart of the house. Some rain-pipes ran down the wall. Florence must havelet herself down by them. But what coolness and what an indomitable willshe must have displayed to make her escape in this manner!
The detectives had already distributed themselves on every side to barthe fugitive's road. It soon became manifest that Florence, for whom theywere hunting on the ground floor and in the basement, had gone from theyard into the room underneath her own, which happened to be the mothersuperior's; that she had put on a nun's habit; and that, thus disguised,she had passed unnoticed through the very men who were pursuing her.
They rushed outside. But it was now dark; and every search was bound tobe vain in so populous a quarter.
The Prefect of Police made no effort to conceal his displeasure. Don Luiswas also greatly disappointed at this flight, which thwarted his plans,and enlarged openly upon Weber's lack of skill.
"I told you so, Deputy Chief! You should have taken your precautions.Mlle. Levasseur's attitude ought to have warned you. She evidently knowsthe criminal and wanted to go to him, ask him for explanations and, forall we can tell, save him, if he managed to convince her. And what willhappen between them? When the villain sees that he is discovered, he willbe capable of anything."
M. Desmalions again questioned the mother superior and soon learned thatFlorence, before taking refuge in the nursing-home, had spent forty-eighthours in some furnished apartments on the Ile Saint-Louis.
The clue was not worth much, but they could not neglect it. The Prefectof Police, who retained all his doubts with regard to Florence andattached extreme importance to the girl's capture, ordered Weber and hismen to follow up this trail without delay. Don Luis accompanied thedeputy chief.
Events at once showed that the Prefect of Police was right. Florence hadtaken refuge in the lodging-house on the Ile Saint-Louis, where she hadengaged a room under an assumed name. But she had no sooner arrived thana small boy called at the house, asked for her, and went away with her.
They went up to her room and found a parcel done up in a newspaper,containing a nun's habit. The thing was obvious.
Later, in the course of the evening, Weber succeeded in discovering thesmall boy. He was the son of the porter of one of the houses in theneighbourhood. Where could he have taken Florence? When questioned, hedefinitely refused to betray the lady who had trusted him and who hadcried when she kissed him. His mother entreated him. His father boxed hisears. He was inflexible.
In any case, it was not unreasonable to conclude that Florence had notleft the Ile Saint-Louis or its immediate vicinity. The detectivespersisted in their search all the evening. Weber established hisheadquarters in a tap room where every scrap of information wasbrought to him and where his men returned from time to time to receivehis orders. He also remained in constant communic
ation with thePrefect's office.
At half-past ten a squad of detectives, sent by the Prefect, placedthemselves at the deputy chief's disposal. Mazeroux, newly arrived fromRouen and furious with Florence, joined them.
The search continued. Don Luis had gradually assumed its management; andit was he who, so to speak, inspired Weber to ring at this or that doorand to question this or that person.
At eleven o'clock the hunt still remained fruitless; and Don Luis was thevictim of an increasing and irritating restlessness. But, shortly aftermidnight, a shrill whistle drew all the men to the eastern extremity ofthe island, at the end of the Quai d'Anjou.
Two detectives stood waiting for them, surrounded by a small crowd ofonlookers. They had just learned that, some distance farther away, on theQuai Henri IV, which does not form part of the island, a motor car hadpulled up outside a house, that there was the noise of a dispute, andthat the cab had subsequently driven off in the direction of Vincennes.
They hastened to the Quai Henri IV and at once found the house. There wasa door on the ground floor opening straight on the pavement. The taxi hadstopped for a few minutes in front of this door. Two persons, a woman anda man leading her along, had left the ground floor flat. When the door ofthe taxi was shut, a man's voice had shouted from the inside:
"Drive down the Boulevard Saint-Germain and along the quays. Then takethe Versailles Road."
But the porter's wife was able to furnish more precise particulars.Puzzled by the tenant of the ground floor, whom she had only seen once,in the evening, who paid his rent by checks signed in the name of Charlesand who but very seldom came to his apartment, she had taken advantage ofthe fact that her lodge was next to the flat to listen to the sound ofvoices. The man and the woman were arguing. At one moment the man cried,in a louder tone:
"Come with me, Florence. I insist upon it; and I will give you everyproof of my innocence to-morrow morning. And, if you neverthelessrefuse to become my wife, I shall leave the country. All mypreparations are made."
A little later he began to laugh and, again raising his voice, said:
"Afraid of what, Florence? That I shall kill you perhaps? No, no, haveno fear--"
The portress had heard nothing more. But was this not enough to justifyevery alarm?
Don Luis caught hold of the deputy chief:
"Come along! I knew it: the man is capable of anything. It's the tiger!He means to kill her!"
He rushed outside, dragging the deputy toward the two policemotors waiting five hundred yards down. Meanwhile, Mazeroux wastrying to protest:
"It would be better to search the house, to pick up some clues--"
"Oh," shouted Don Luis, increasing his pace, "the house and the clueswill keep! ... But he's gaining ground, the ruffian--and he has Florencewith him--and he's going to kill her! It's a trap! ... I'm sure of it--"
He was shouting in the dark, dragging the two men along withirresistible force.
They neared the motors.
"Get ready!" he ordered as soon as he was in sight. "I'll drive myself."
He tried to get into the driver's seat. But Weber objected and pushed himinside, saying:
"Don't trouble--the chauffeur knows his business. He'll drive faster thanyou would."
Don Luis, the deputy chief, and two detectives crowded into the cab;Mazeroux took his seat beside the chauffeur.
"Versailles Road!" roared Don Luis.
The car started; and he continued:
"We've got him! You see, it's a magnificent opportunity. He must be goingpretty fast, but without forcing the pace, because he doesn't think we'reafter him. Oh, the villain, we'll make him sit up! Quicker, driver! Butwhat the devil are we loaded up like this for? You and I, Deputy Chief,would have been enough. Hi, Mazeroux, get down and jump into the othercar! That'll be better, won't it, Deputy? It's absurd--"
He interrupted himself; and, as he was sitting on the back seat, betweenthe deputy chief and a detective, he rose toward the window and muttered:
"Why, look here, what's the idiot doing? That's not the road! I say, whatdoes this mean?"
A roar of laughter was the only answer. It came from Weber, who wasshaking with delight. Don Luis stifled an oath and, making a tremendouseffort, tried to leap from the car. Six hands fell upon him and held himmotionless. The deputy chief had him by the throat. The detectivesclutched his arms. There was no room for him to struggle within therestricted space of the small car; and he felt the cold iron of arevolver on his temple.
"None of your nonsense," growled Weber, "or I'll blow out your brains, myboy! Aha! you didn't expect this! It's Weber's revenge, eh?"
And, when Perenna continued to wriggle, he went on, in athreatening tone:
"You'll have only yourself to blame, mind!... I'm going to count three:one, two--"
"But what's it all about?" bellowed Don Luis.
"Prefect's orders, received just now."
"What orders?"
"To take you to the lockup if the Florence girl escaped us again."
"Have you a warrant?"
"I have."
"And what next?"
"What next? Nothing: the Sante--the examining magistrate--"
"But, hang it all, the tiger's making tracks meanwhile! Oh, rot! Is itpossible to be so dense? What mugs those fellows are! Oh, dash it!"
He was fuming with rage, and when he saw that they were driving intothe prison yard, he gathered all his strength, knocked the revolverout of the deputy's hand, and stunned one of the detectives with ablow of his fist.
But ten men came crowding round the doors. Resistance was useless. Heunderstood this, and his rage increased.
"The idiots!" he shouted, while they surrounded him and searched him atthe door of the office. "The rotters! The bunglers! To go mucking up ajob like that! They can lay hands on the villain if they want to, andthey lock up the honest man--while the villain makes himself scarce! Andhe'll do more murder yet! Florence! Florence ..."
Under the lamp light, in the midst of the detectives holding him, he wasmagnificent in his helpless violence.
They dragged him away. With an unparalleled display of strength, he drewhimself up, shook off the men who were hanging on to him like a pack ofhounds worrying some animal at bay, got rid of Weber, and accostedMazeroux in familiar tones. He was gloriously masterful, almost calm, sowholly did he appear to control his seething rage. He gave his orders inbreathless little sentences, curt as words of command.
"Mazeroux, run around to the Prefect's. Ask him to ring up Valenglay:yes, the Prime Minister. I want to see him. Have him informed. Ask thePrefect to say it's I: the man who made the German Emperor play his game.My name? He knows. Or, if he forgets, the Prefect can tell him my name."
He paused for a second or two; and then, calmer still, he declared:
"Arsene Lupin! Telephone those two words to him and just say this:'Arsene Lupin wishes to speak to the Prime Minister on very importantbusiness.' Get that through to him at once. The Prime Minister would bevery angry if he heard afterward that they had neglected to communicatemy request. Go, Mazeroux, and then find the villain's tracks again."
The governor of the prison had opened the jail book.
"You can enter my name, Monsieur le Directeur," said Don Luis. "Put down'Arsene Lupin.'"
The governor smiled and said:
"I should find a difficulty in putting down any other. It's on thewarrant: 'Arsene Lupin, alias Don Luis Perenna.'"
Don Luis felt a little shudder pass through him at the sound of thosewords. The fact that he was arrested under the name of Arsene Lupin madehis position doubly dangerous.
"Ah," he said, "so they've resolved--"
"I should think so!" said Weber, in a tone of triumph. "We've resolved totake the bull by the horns and to go straight for Lupin. Plucky of us,eh? Never fear, we'll show you something better than that!"
Don Luis did not flinch. Turning to Mazeroux again, he said:
"Don't forget my instructions, Mazeroux."
But there was a fresh blow in store for him. The sergeant did not answerhis remark. Don Luis watched him closely and once more gave a start. Hehad just perceived that Mazeroux also was surrounded by men who wereholding him tight. And the poor sergeant stood silently shedding tears.
Weber's liveliness increased.
"You'll have to excuse him, Lupin. Sergeant Mazeroux accompanies you toprison, though not in the same cell."
"Ah!" said Don Luis, drawing himself up. "Is Mazeroux put into jail?"
"Prefect's orders, warrant duly executed."
"And on what charge?"
"Accomplice of Arsene Lupin."
"Mazeroux my accomplice? Get out! Mazeroux? The most honest man thatever lived!"
"The most honest man that ever lived, as you say. That didn't preventpeople from going to him when they wanted to write to you or prevent himfrom bringing you the letters. Which proves that he knew where you werehanging out. And there's a good deal more which we'll explain to you,Lupin, in good time. You'll have plenty of fun, I assure you."
Don Luis murmured:
"My poor Mazeroux!"
Then, raising his voice, he said:
"Don't cry, old chap. It's just a matter of the remainder of the night.Yes, I'll share my cards with you and we'll turn the king and mark gamein a very few hours. Don't cry. I've got a much finer berth waiting foryou, a more honourable and above all a more lucrative position. I havejust what you want.
"You don't imagine, surely, that I wasn't prepared for this! Why, youknow me! Take it from me: I shall be at liberty to-morrow, and thegovernment, after setting you free, will pitch you into a colonelcy orsomething, with a marshal's pay attached to it. So don't cry, Mazeroux."
Then, addressing Weber, he said to him in the voice of a principal givingan order, and knowing that the order will be executed without discussion:
"Monsieur, I will ask you to fulfil the confidential mission which I wasentrusting to Mazeroux. First, inform the Prefect of Police that I have acommunication of the very highest importance to make to the PrimeMinister. Next, discover the tiger's tracks at Versailles before thenight is over. I know your merit, Monsieur, and I rely entirely upon yourdiligence and your zeal. Meet me at twelve o'clock to-morrow."
And, still maintaining his attitude of a principal who has given hisinstructions, he allowed himself to be taken to his cell.
It was ten to one. For the last fifty minutes the enemy had been bowlingalong the highroad, carrying off Florence like a prey which it now seemedimpossible to snatch from him.
The door was locked and bolted.
Don Luis reflected:
"Even presuming that Monsieur le Prefect consents to ring up Valenglay,he won't do so before the morning. So they've given the villain eighthours' start before I'm free. Eight hours! Curse it!"
He thought a little longer, then shrugged his shoulders with the air ofone who, for the moment, has nothing better to do than wait, and flunghimself on his mattress, murmuring:
"Hushaby, Lupin!"