"Good! I am here first! Ah, we shall see our men presently! Which, and how many?"
Fandor seated himself and let his imagination work. He tried to picture the faces of the mysterious individuals he was determined to track down--but, so far, in vain!... Then with strange, uncanny persistence, one face rose again and again before his mental vision, clear, vital--the face of the enigmatic Thomery, with his silver white hair, his red face, his light blue eyes, that Yankee head of his, well set on his robust torso....
"Thomery!" cried Fandor almost aloud. "The fact is, everything leads me to think ... but don"t let us antic.i.p.ate! Concealment is the next item on the programme!"
Fandor realised that to hide under the bed was impossible: he would be discovered immediately.... The screen was no better!... There was Elizabeth"s trunk!... Why, it was a kind of monument in wicker work! The very thing! It was quite big enough to hold him--it was one of those enormous trunks beloved of women!... To hide in it would be an excellent trick--a real joke! Let me burrow in there, and see the stupefaction of these estimable characters when they open it to rummage about among Elizabeth"s belongings and find themselves face to face with me! They will see besides my sympathetic countenance the stern mouth of my revolver!... Let us see whether it is a possible hiding place!
Fandor raised the cover and lifted out a top compartment, in which were scattered, among objects of feminine apparel, papers, books, and all sorts of things which had evidently belonged to the unfortunate painter.
The distracted Elizabeth, in the hurry of departure from rue Norvins, must have thrust them in pell-mell. The lower division of the trunk was empty.
"Another bit of luck!" thought Fandor. "Now to sample my little hide-hole!"
Fandor found he could get into a fairly comfortable position. Then he calculated, that with the compartment back in its place and the cover open, all he had to do to close it was to shake the trunk transversely.
He could certainly remain inside for several hours without intolerable discomfort.
Raising the cover, Fandor slipped out.
The interminable hours crawled by. To smoke was out of the question.
Fandor"s pride in his exploit was sinking to zero: was he pa.s.sing a wretched night to no purpose? A violent ring sounded. Someone was ringing at the garden gate--ringing loudly, insistently--an imperative summons!
Instantly Fandor was on the alert. Useless to slip to the window and peer cautiously out, for Elizabeth"s window did not face the gate: even by leaning out he could not catch any glimpse of any visitors, either coming to the house or pa.s.sing along towards Madame Bourrat"s apartments in the annex.... Besides, Fandor feared to make a noise, and the polished boards of the floor cracked and creaked at the least movement!
"The one thing for me to do," thought he, "is to creep back into my retreat and wait. Now who can it be at this time of night?"
Fandor"s curiosity was rapidly satisfied--after a fashion! The call of the bell had been answered by noises and hurried footsteps, whisperings, an outburst of voices, then silence.... A few minutes after, Fandor clearly heard some persons entering the ground floor of the house.
He listened intently: he could hear his own heartbeats.
Then a voice said:
"In Heaven"s name! Is it possible? Why do you come to upset people at this time of night? As if we had not had enough to put up with during the day! It is a dreadful business! There"s no doubt about it! Are we never to be left in peace?"
"Why, it"s Madame Bourrat"s voice!" said Fandor. "Poor woman! What"s up?" He listened. Someone said:
"The law is the law, madame, and we are it"s humble executors. As the examining judge has ordered me to make an investigating distraint, we are compelled to carry out his instructions to the letter. Be good enough to tell your servant to lead us to the actual spot where the crime was attempted."
"Now what is all this?" asked Fandor. "And from whence comes this police inspector? It only wanted that! He won"t know what to make of it when I tell him who I am--and how am I to explain my presence here? Anyhow, wait, and see what happens!"
"Someone was coming upstairs--more than one!"
"This way, messieurs!" said a hoa.r.s.e voice. "The room the young lady occupied is at the end of this pa.s.sage!"
"This time I recognise my fine fellow!" thought Fandor. "It is that imbecile of a Jules. But what a triumphant tone! And how different his voice sounds to what it did, this afternoon, at the examination!"
Then Fandor all but jumped from his hiding place.
"Oh! What an egregious fool I am! Why, there is not a police inspector in France who would come at this hour to carry out an investigation--and a distraint to boot! What the devil does it mean? Can they be the fine fellows I am lying in wait to meet?"
The dubious individuals who had roused the house at such an unholy hour entered the room. Someone turned on the electric light.
Though Fandor could obtain a sufficient supply of air through the openings in the wickerwork, he could not see what was going on: he could only listen with all his ears.
Madame Bourrat accompanied her strange visitors.
"It is here," she exclaimed, "that the journalist, Jerome Fandor, found my boarder stretched out on the floor.... You see, in this corner, is the gas stove with its tubing! They have forgotten to refix it to the pipe; but there is no danger, the tap is turned off and so is the meter."
The personage who had given out that he was a police inspector, whose voice was probably an a.s.sumed one, replied only by monosyllables. Fandor did not recognise his voice. But there was another speaker, who also had very little to say for himself; and Fandor thought he recognised certain tones as belonging to a man who had been much in his thoughts of late.
"Thomery!" thought he. "Is it Thomery?"
But he only knew the sugar refiner by sight, and had heard him speak but once or twice at the ball: that was not enough to go on, for Fandor had not paid special attention to the distinguishing tone and quality of his host"s voice. Nevertheless, he could not get out of his head the idea that the celebrated sugar refiner, honoured by all Paris, esteemed by everybody, was standing only a step or two away from him now in this house of strange happenings, and under very peculiar circ.u.mstances. "Was he a burglar--an a.s.sa.s.sin? One of a nefarious band?"
For Fandor was now convinced that these were not police emissaries bearing a legal mandate to search and distrain: no, they were robbers, criminals! He was preparing to rise from his hiding place and appear before the bandits: he would fire a few shots and make the deuce of a row and rouse the neighbourhood. He would also save poor Madame Bourrat, who was certainly not their accomplice. Just then he heard the pretended police inspector say:
"Will you provide us with writing materials, madame? We must write an official report."
"Why, certainly, monsieur," replied Madame Bourrat. "I will go downstairs and get what you require."
Fandor heard her leave the room. No sooner had she gone than a hurried conversation began in low tones. Clearly Jules was guilty, for the pretended police inspector asked:
"No one this evening? Nothing happened?"
"No," replied Jules in a servile tone. "The journalist brought the mistress back and then went off at nine o"clock...."
"No news of Alfred?" asked the voice.
The third person answered:
"Why, no. You know very well he is always at the Depot."
"Let us set to work!" said voice number one.
Fandor felt that the decisive moment had arrived: someone opened the cover of the trunk and feverish hands were turning over the confused ma.s.s of objects in the top compartment.
"Didn"t you find anything?" asked the voice of Jules.
"No, no, monsieur! I searched everywhere; but as I do not read easily, it"s difficult for me...."
"Imbecile!" murmured the voice.
"Ah!" said Fandor to himself. "This fellow pleases me! He has the same opinion of this dolt of a Jules as I have!"
Revolver in hand, Fandor was on the alert. The moment they lifted up the compartment out he would jump. Just then, Madame Bourrat could be heard approaching.
"Confound it! We shall not have time to go through everything!"
muttered a voice. The trunk cover was hastily closed.
Fandor heard Madame Bourrat enter the room with slow, heavy step.