Without apparent effort, the man in the hooded mask seized Elizabeth Dollon in his muscular arms.
"Come, mademoiselle," he said in a jeering tone. "Come to bye-bye! Sleep better than on this sofa! You will sleep a longer sleep, that"s certain!" An evil smile punctuated these sinister remarks.
He laid the poor girl"s body on the floor in the middle of the room; then, approaching a little gas stove, he detached the india-rubber tube and slipped the end of it between his victim"s teeth.
He turned the gas tap....
"Perfect!" he said, as he straightened himself.
"To-morrow morning, early, at eight o"clock, or at nine, the excellent Madame Bourrat will open the meter. The narcotic this child has taken will prevent her from waking, so that, without suffering, without cries, quite gently--pfuit!... sweet Elizabeth will pa.s.s from life to death!...
But it will not do to linger here ... let us find Jules and give him the necessary instructions!"
The stranger went out into the corridor closing the door. The thing had been well managed; the screws keeping the bolt case in position were put back in their holes--the key remained inside--no one would suspect that only a slight push was necessary to get into the room.
With a chuckle, the stranger bent down and pushed a ta.s.sel under the door.
The servant must not discover the trick when she is sweeping the pa.s.sage: now with this wedge, the door cannot be opened without a violent push.
With a last glance up and down the pa.s.sage, illuminated for a moment by his electric torch, the stranger made sure that there was no one about to see him; then, with silent tread, he began to go downstairs....
Half-way down, his accomplice awaited him.
"Well, master?" questioned Jules in a low, trembling voice.
In a calm, quiet voice, the man in the hood mask replied:
"It is done--is successful.... I have wedged the door to. You will be careful when you are sweeping to-morrow."
Jules lowered his head.
"Yes ... yes.... Have you?..."
The stranger put his hand on the servant"s shoulder.
"Listen," whispered the stranger, "I do not repeat my orders twenty times over,... have I not already told you that I do not allow myself to be questioned?... try to remember that!... You wish to know whether I have killed her?... Well, I will tell you this: I have not killed her.
But I have so managed things that she will kill herself!... A suicide, you understand.... One piece of advice: to-morrow, keep anyone from going to her room as long as you can ... if Madame Bourrat, or anyone else asks for her, you must say that you saw her leave the house--that she has gone out...."
"But," protested Jules, "it is impossible, what you tell me to say, master! It just happens that she is expecting visitors to-morrow!... She told me that, on this account, she meant to stay indoors all day!"
The man with the hood mask ground his teeth.
"You idiot! What does that matter?... You are to say: Mademoiselle Elizabeth has just gone out, but she told me that she was not going far, and that she would return in about twenty minutes.... If anyone should ask for her again, you are to answer that she has not come in yet!..."
"But ... master ... when they find out what"s happened really?..."
"Ho! When it is discovered, it will seem quite natural that a person who means to commit suicide--for she will have committed suicide, you understand--should have taken precautions not to be disturbed ... you grasp this?"
"Yes, master ... yes!..."
They had returned to the garden: the man in the hooded mask was preparing to get over the gate....
"Farewell! Be faithful! Be intelligent!... You know what you have to gain?... You also know what risks you run?... Eh!... Now go!"
"You will return to-morrow, master?"
The man with the hooded mask looked his accomplice up and down.
"I shall return when it pleases me to do so."
Then, with marvellous agility, without making a spring for it, with a quite extraordinary muscular flexibility and power, the stranger leaped on to the little wall, cleared the gate, and disappeared into the night....
Jules, with bent head, much moved, terribly anxious, slowly walked back to the house....
XIII
RUE RAFFET
Maray, second reporter of _La Capitale_, shook hands with Fandor.
"Are you in a good humour, dear boy?"
"So--so...."
"Ah! Well, here is something which will cheer you up, I"m sure!...
Here"s a letter from a lady for you.... I found it in my pigeon-hole by mistake!"
Fandor smiled.
"From a lady?... You must be mistaken!... How do you know it is?"
"By the handwriting, the paper, and so on--I"m not mistaken--am I ever?..." Laughing, Maray threw down on Fandor"s table a small envelope with a deep black border.
"Yes, it is a letter from a woman," said Fandor, as he picked it up: "from whom?... Ah,... why yes!..."
With a hasty finger, he tore open the envelope whilst his colleague withdrew making a joking remark.
"Dear boy, I leave you to this tender missive: I should be annoyed with myself were I to interrupt your reflections!"
Fandor"s friend would have been surprised, if he could have seen the gloomy expression which the perusal of this so-called love-letter produced. Jerome had turned to the signature--_Elizabeth Dollon_.
"What does she want with me?" he asked himself. "After the extraordinary affair of rue du Quatre Septembre, one must suppose that she has arrived at some conclusion regarding the possible guilt of her brother ... so long as she does not let her imagination run away with her, and, like the police, fancy that Jacques Dollon is still in the land of the living? The position the poor thing is in is a very cruel one!"
Fandor had met Jacques Dollon"s young sister repeatedly; and, every time, he had been more and more troubled by the poor girl"s touching grief, as well as by her pathetic beauty, which had made a great impression on him.... He began to read her letter.
_"Dear Sir,_