Devil's Score: A Tale of decadent omen….

by Edouard Jourdan

  The instinct of self-preservation, victorious with courage, pushed her out, knocked her out of the door. But before she had sketched her retreat, a terrible grip had snatched her; a formidable hand fell on her mouth, while another pulled her forward in the bedroom.

  In less than a second, she was knocked down, gagged, shackled and bound, in short, canceled.

  Canceled? No! She could not move, a gag was pressing her lips, the darkness was putting a blindfold on her eyes, it's true! But if the dark Hercules did not stun him with a blow of stun, if he left her the sensibility, she would hear him go well, this malefactor who did not know how to cross the solid substance, this being who had not been able to faint noiselessly through the house, that human who had just touched her and could be touched, who possessed a tangible, voluminous, heavy body! Katarina's ears did not have a headband! Nothing impeded his hearing!

  Whatever the case may be, all his nerves waited for the bad punch that would stun him. It was his only fear, for if his aggressor had wanted to kill, he would not have tied and gagged him; his frightful pincers would have strangled him without giving him time to breathe a sigh.

  The brave woman was not even trying to scream. Who would have heard it? Johan, no one else. And what could Johan do against the unknown athlete? Nothing. He must know it; yet he had gagged Katarina, it was safer; for David had killed Goliath with a browning bullet like a sling's pebble!

  The dreaded punch did not arrive ...

  She could hear rubbing against the cupboard, confused clanging ... The other was doing his job; he had not wanted to leave without having completed it. Nothing proved that he would go out the door. Katarina had embarrassed him, that's all. He got rid of it. It was not to escape that he had immobilized her. However, he could not allow himself to remain trapped in this room.

  And Katarina listened as her eyes widened, convinced that if she saw the mystery of this departure, she would have taken a big step towards the truth.

  The being who was foraging in the darkness would not scape away as "Demonoplasm", of which he had neither the appearance (since "Demonoplasm" was crimped with light) nor silence. It may have been "Demonoplasm", but in another form; and, unless he resumed his spectral state in order to leave the chamber by infiltration, it was impossible for him to succeed without some noise revealing the prodigy or betraying the artifice.

  The quarter-seconds seemed minutes. Katarina, deceived over time, blanched with fright at the thought that Johan was perhaps about to finish his electrification, and that he would arrive without suspecting anything, without weapon, without precaution! ...

  Fortunately, the machine was still snoring.

  Nothing was heard on the side of the closet. The dark being was moving. Katarina was warned by a slight repercussion that the rug spread.

  Now he fumbled on the dresser, hitting the cassette and the mirror. Listen, listen, Katarina!

  He is getting closer. His foot touches the elbow of his victim ... Something is happening, there, nearby, on the ground. (Is it through the floor that he will escape?) Ah! ah! Katarina knew she would learn something new! There is not far, against the carpet, a mechanical purr, the sneaky rumor of a device, the rounded murmur of wheels that turn ...

  A convulsive jolt agitates him. Thundery, formidable and sudden, an infernal music bursts in his ear. And that's Fantasia, played by Johan once. She hears it as if she were in the piano ...

  Strangeness of science and industry! By performing at “Tape Brothers” the work of the late Hungarian, Johan Bansberg would have known that he was deafening Katarina through the future!

  All hopes vanished. The accursed phonograph gagged the unfortunate's ears. The furious piano and the delirious orchestra tended their din, like a flashy screen, between his attention and the flight of the intruder. She will not know anything! "Demonoplasm" - or someone from his band had properly ousted him. It was, so to speak, the phonograph of Fualdès!

  Forced hearing did not last long. Katarina suddenly saw the electric chandelier light up. Johan, running up, was leaning over her, after having stopped the phonograph.

  - What's going on? he repeated.

  So, saying, he untied the gag, which was nothing but a batiste shirt rounded up in the closet, and undid the ties, where we recognized the cords of the curtains.

  The room was perfectly empty.

  - Did not you see anyone? Katarina still sits on the rug.

  - Do not you have trouble? Johan said.

  - No. But did not you see anyone come out of here, walk down the hall, open the front door or run through the kitchen?

  - No one!

  - Did you give the light here?

  - Not at all. I heard the phonograph; it surprised me; I opened my door; the bedroom was lit up, I saw you lying on the floor; I only jumped! There was no one.

  "The hall was dark," said Katarina; the thief was hiding there. As the electric meter is near the front door, he had to restore power before fleeing.

  - The flow? But, Katarina, my lamp, to me, did not stop lighting up and then, I did not hear anything!

  Katarina frowned. She did not understand anymore. The facts, once again, were shrouded in mystery.

  "We have to look," said Johan.

  The young woman shook her head. They went around the apartment, went downstairs and climbed the grand staircase and the service staircase. They rummaged through all possible caches, revolver in hand. In vain. Everything was resting; and if things took on a sort of enigmatic physiognomy, it was because their imagination lent them to them.

  They returned to the bedroom.

  - Have we been stolen? Johan said. Do you think we had time to rob the closet? We must see ... In any case, the chests are intact; it's a good sign.

  Sad situation for the loving Katarina! From what soul was Johan going to welcome ruin? Would he triumph over despondency? ... On the other hand, he would file a complaint; it was fatal. And then, how to explain in justice that the jewels had been stolen prior to the values; that she had known this first flight, and that she had said nothing about it? Would Johan forgive him for pushing love to cover up? ...

  The keys were in their place, in the secret depths of the cabinet office. The thief had not used it, or - more doubtful hypothesis - he had reinstated them.

  "You are trembling," said Johan. Let me do. He took the keys.

  And it's true she was shaking. The reaction occurred, and Katarina, so brave in danger, so brave in the face of present and indisputable hostility, was without resistance to possible misfortunes, vaguely foreseen perils, the assaults of the elusive. A ranger, with his knife pulled, would have found it in cold blood; but for a threat, a sign, a ghost, his forces abandoned him and his eyes "saw black".

  "Have I been foolish not to keep the titles with me! She thought, leaning against the bed.

  - Good! exclaimed Johan. The titles are there! It was moreover probable, since the lock is not fractured.

  The titles were there!

  Katarina's joy, mingled with surprise, increased with the hope that she could hide Johan's subtraction from the jewels:

  "It was certain," she said. Do not bother opening the other chest, go, it's the same thing. You see that we did not touch either ...

  The end of his sentence expired ...

  She stared at something, with a hypnotized eye ...

  His wandering eyes had met a small mahogany frame on the dresser, between the mirror and the cassette. This frame usually contained Mother Doret's photograph. But that night, what we saw there was not much like the brave music dealer. It was the portrait of a long thin figure, dressed in white, straight ...

  She dragged herself to the desk, grabbed the object, and put it in her bosom.

  Johan had not seen the movement. From the chest to the jewelry he came out, one by one, the necklace of pearls, the brilliant earrings, brooches, fibulae ...

  "I think nothing is missing," he said. Do you want to make sure? … Well! what have you?

  What she
had! How would she describe it? Emotions were falling on her like the stones of an avalanche. Was it a dream? Was she living a tale of the Arabian Nights? ... "Demonoplasm" had brought back the jewels! ...

  - Here! my rings! Johan said. I thought they had disappeared in the wake of the disaster!

  He passed them on his fingers.

  Katarina was then taken with a superstitious fear. These jewels stolen and returned, what had been done in the interval of theft and restitution? It feels like some kind of witchcraft was on going…

  - Why are you putting off your rings? she said as naturally as she could. Will not it bothers you for your massages and your exercises?

  - Bah! I will remove them when it is necessary. Too happy to find my alliance!

  He watched the symbolic ring shine, and, taking his wife in his arms, he pressed her tenderly against him. Katarina felt the frame become embedded in her flesh.

  To insist that Johan take off his rings would have been clumsy. Moreover, the apprehensions of the young woman, touching this alliance and this signet ring, did not fail to be romantic; she confessed to him, and felt ashamed at not being able to drive them away.

  She broke free, and said:

  - We did not close the safety lock at the service door. I go.

  - I come with you. We do not know what can happen.

  The kitchen, clean and tidy, offered the image of safety. Katarina, pretending to inspect the cupboard, slid the prodigious frame behind the chocolate cups.

  When she returned, she had the idea of​​examining the electric meter.

  The warranty leads were intact. Katarina played the system, which turned off and on all the lights in the corridor and the bedrooms, including the bedroom. The counter worked perfectly.

  Johan, then, unscrewed the switch from the bedroom, and found nothing suspicious about it.

  - I would like to know what we came here to do! he said.

  "Me too," Katarina added, her voice uncertain.

  - I'll notify the police tomorrow morning.

  That's what she feared. We were going to make an inquiry, and he would still have to lie - lie under oath, make false testimony - to hide the theft of jewels ... And if the investigation led to the discovery of this theft! And if this theft, if the restitution of the jewels would put the police on the trail of the scarlet banner and its inexplicable leader! ... Was not it dangerous to call attention to Johan's persecutors? Was not it attracting him to Johan himself? ... He did not seem to notice ... But the calm he showed could be played out. He was perhaps trembling behind this facade. Perhaps he was terrified at this demonstration in which the power of his enemies suddenly came to manifest itself. Ignorant of theft and restitution, he saw only a sample of the antagonistic power, a threat, a sign; but that might be enough for him to be filled with anxiety!

  Katarina, without looking at him, said with relative ease:

  - Do you really think it's necessary to warn the police? In short, what would we complain about? A home invasion. Well! and prove it? ... mingling the police to our business, I think it's not worth it.

  "We'll see you tomorrow," Johan said after a pause.

  As she spoke, Katarina replaced the jewels in the trunk. She carefully touched the bottom and the metal walls ...

  A card was pressed against one of them.

  Shuddering at the thought that Johan might have found her, Katarina had time to read:

  THE SCARLET BANNER and rejected the card in the middle of the jewels.

  However, Johan slept badly. Katarina could see it because she did not sleep. The supernatural was in a sense indigestible to him.

  But why would it be so strong that these things were supernatural-or rather, that they were extraordinary, since the supernatural word implies non-existence in the realm of reality? Why not look for an ordinary explanation at all costs? ...

  She sought it, and did not find it, and constantly returned to the acceptance of scientific phenomena still foreign to most men.

  She resolved to make Regina sleep in the apartment. This girl had decision and understanding. Present, she might have surprised the escape of the unknown.

  Despite the collective card, Katarina had quite understood that the scarlet banner had been represented by only one bandit. Only one, and who could leave only by making noise. The phonograph was the proof. Although ... but no! The phonograph proved nothing! The man might have used it to make it look as though his exit would not be silent, when it had been! Stratagem of the stratagems! ...

  One cannot say all the conjectures that infuriated Katarina Bansberg's insomnia.

  Regina interrupted this vain agitation.

  The morning was shining. The maid brought the chocolate. And on the set, Katarina saw the frame she had hidden behind the cups.

  She jumped out of bed when Regina, who had found the object in the kitchen cabinet, simply put it back on the dresser.

  Johan was still slumbering. It was a chance!

  But in the context of mahogany there was more than the smiling image of Mom Doret.

  Katarina dressed in a singular state of mind. This time, despite the big day, despite the morning limpidity of her thought, the supernatural - or the extraordinary - subjugated her. A being, in favor of the darkness, had entered his room. In the light, she had found no other trace of it than a reduced form, the appearance of which was that of a photograph. She had carried the simulacrum herself out of the room. And now nothing remained of the mysterious passage: neither photography, nor anything ...

  "Demonoplasm"! A formidable riddle!

  The carpet, lifted, showed the carpet background, unscathed, unbroken, without burning, weaving an impenetrable obstacle from one end to the other of the room.

  When Johan had left the place, Katarina took the jewels, destroyed the map of the scarlet banner, and went straight to the jeweler she knew.

  A doubt had come to him during the night.

  - Are these pearls true? she asked the specialist.

  "How, Madam! These are the ones I sold to Mr. Bansberg almost two years ago.

  - And those brilliants?

  - All that is most true.

  With the relaxation of her nerves, she felt how tense they had been since the day before.

  "Out of curiosity," she said, "how much would you give to all this?

  - Beuh ... The pearl has fallen these days, and the diamond is not asked. Thirty thousand francs, because it's you.

  She expected it. "Never two without three," she had thought. One, the values; two, works of art; three, jewels. Thirty thousand instead of sixty-five thousand! The jinx was complete.

  The same day, she shows off her jewels, wanting to experiment with their possible influence. Bravery was hidden beneath coquetry. She carried them all at once, by a kind of intrepidity.

  She was expecting the necklace to choke him a little. The bracelets would they not break his wrists, and the rings grind his knuckles? She thought she felt the bite of the pins and the sting of the pins. The brilliants seemed two sparks ready to burn the lobe of his ears ...

  But the jewels were not enchanted, and evening came without her having suffered the slightest torture.

  Johan, on the other hand, was so whimsical and so dark that all suppositions were permitted.

  12 – THE CONSPIRACY

  Johan no longer spoke of making a complaint to the police. The sadness that fell on him, in the aftermath of this inconceivable adventure, seemed to amaze him, erasing from his memory until the memory of the nocturnal intrusion. In a few hours he had resumed his hard, closed face, the uneasy and wild expression of the first days of his convalescence.

  A thinning, however, went through those dark days. It was when he left this apartment in the Rue Lesueur where, for two years, the future had been pleased to smile as if by mystification.

  Katarina had apprehended for Johan the moment of departure, the last tour in the empty rooms, the echo of footsteps on the resounding floors, the farewell to the walls that we will
not see again ...

  But there was the crack in the door. And one would have thought, looking at Johan, that the whole departure was to leave this slit of misfortune. He only had eyes for her. While Katarina went from room to room and gave each one a melancholy memory, he was waiting for her on the landing. He smoked a cigarette and stared at the crack with an air of triumph and mockery.

  A bloody sign had marked the door of his house. He had returned under the most ominous augury. But the omen had lied. The blood had not flowed under his roof. Victory, in short, remained to him!

  When Katarina had rejoined him, when the door slammed on the empty apartment, echoing in the vaults of the past, Johan's smile was a flash of joy. This door closed in its existence a gallery full of pitfalls, fortunately traveled.