Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  “As soon as I’m gone and they’ve brought your supper, place this stool on your mattress, and you’ll find it easy to file through the one little bar which prevents you from slipping out of this sky-light.”

  “What with?”

  “With this file.”

  She fished out a file from the lining of her coat and handed it to Callista.

  “It’s a job that won’t take you more than an hour at most.”

  “But it won’t be a bit of good,” objected Callista, throwing her cigarette away. “Is that the only way you’ve found of helping me? Suppose I got out of this yard, I should have to pass through a railed archway, and suppose I got over the railings, I should find myself in the patrol-path, and to leave the patrol-path I should have to go past the record office. I say nothing of the warders that I should meet on the way. I’ve made a thorough examination of this prison every time I’ve come into it. There’s nothing to be done by a prisoner here.”

  “That’s true, but what about a person who is free?”

  “I am not free.”

  “Yes, you are. Listen to me, my dear but impatient Callista. When you’ve filed through the bar, you must go to bed and sleep peacefully as though you hadn’t a care. Next morning they’ll bring you your breakfast, and afterwards bolt the door. Make yourself quite at home. Nobody will disturb you. You can slip off your rags and put on the bricklayer’s things that I’ve brought you. Pull your cap well over your eyes, and you’ll be transformed into a bricklayer’s apprentice. You know, or you don’t know, that just now workmen are repairing the building in yard C where Andréa’s cell is. Work starts at eight o’clock. At half-past eight a truck of rubbish will leave this yard C dragged by a workman. He will pass through your yard and stop for a few seconds under your skylight. He won’t stop unless he considers that you can clear your skylight without running the risk of being caught; otherwise he will stop a little farther away and not come up to your skylight until the danger is over.... So don’t hesitate, I tell you, but slide down and place yourself behind the truck to push it while the man in front pulls it. In this way you will get out of the prison safe and sound — you, the truck, the workman — I’ll vouch for it. Once you are outside the rest is easy. A motor-car will be waiting for you at the corner of the street, and by the time they’ve discovered that you’ve flown, you’ll have covered a good distance.”

  “Can you depend upon the workman?” asked Callista, whose heart was pounding wildly at the picture which the Octopus had drawn of her chances of escape, “I can depend upon him as I can upon you. The workman is Andréa.”

  “Well, I never!” sighed Callista.

  “Would you have preferred to run away alone?” questioned the Octopus, with a knowing smile.

  “I... I hardly know.”

  “I know that you’ll need this man. That’s why I didn’t hesitate to have a file and an outfit, similar to yours, passed through his window by the man in charge of the truck. Besides, Andréa is a necessary part of the scheme. Who would have pulled the truck? Neither the workman whom I bought over nor anyone else would have had anything to do with the matter.”

  “You think I shall still need this man?”

  “Yes, because you have not yet done with Odette.”

  “Oh, you don’t say so.”

  “Rouletabille and Jean are by this time on her trail, not to mention de Lauriac, who is hurrying after-her like a madman, prepared to break down every obstacle, and if you want to keep her, you will both have your work cut out, believe me.”

  “Our entire nation will guard her,” said Callista in a strained voice.

  “That’s more than is necessary,” returned the Octopus, frowning. “More than is necessary — and yet possibly not enough to get the better of Rouletabille.”

  An hour later the Octopus came out of the prison and walked towards the market square.

  A dark form which never let her out of sight was creeping in her shadow. That dark form was Jean.

  He watched Madame de Meyrens enter the Hôtel du Forum. For a few moments he stood gazing at the front of the hotel. Lights appeared in two windows on the first floor.

  A little later he perceived through the glass Madame de Meyrens meet Rouletabille and enter into an excited conversation with him, which seemed to end in a “scene.”

  Then Jean de Santîerne made up his mind to act. He left the market square to visit Monsieur Crousillat, the examining magistrate.

  CHAPTER XXII

  JEAN CONTINUES HIS FIGHT WITH THE OCTOPUS

  GILLIATT, THE FISHERMAN, struggling in the eight arms of the octopus which was dragging him down into the depths, as depicted in Victor Hugo’s “Toilers of the Sea,” seemed, to Jean de Santierne, less to be pitied than Rouletabille, held fast in the mysterious coils which bound him to the terrible Madame de Meyrens.

  After what had occurred some days previously at Les Saintes Maries, after what Jean had seen of the underhand trickery of this dangerous and scheming woman, after what Rouletabille himself had told him of the relations which existed between her and Callista, how was it that Rouletabille failed to sever once and for all a connection which, unfortunately for him and the peace of mind of his friends, had lasted only too long? It was the everlasting weakness of human nature, of that poor fatuous thing a man’s heart, smitten or at least attracted by the graces of a woman who happened to pass by. She, with her low forehead, her incomprehensible smile, had only to appear again and there was no such thing as the “right end of his judgment.” Though he prided himself on his intellect, Rouletabille was in truth at the mercy of his far too sensitive heart. Therefore he was bound to come to grief, thought Jean.

  He seemed never to meet the Octopus without an altercation with her, but these were only lover’s quarrels. And in the meantime the wretched woman, pursuing an aim which Jean could not contemplate without bitterness, was stealthily working against them, against every measure which they were taking. The fact that Odette was still held a prisoner was entirely due, Jean was convinced, to the Octopus.

  Thus he was unable to repress a gesture of aversion when he suddenly caught sight of her hateful form at a corner of a street in Arles. What was she doing in Arles? What was her object in stealing furtively through the narrow streets already darkened by the falling night? He followed her to the prison. He waited nearly two hours before she came out again. What was she doing in the prison in which Andréa and Callista were confined? She must have entered it to see them. What new piece of treachery was she planning?

  It occurred to him to tell Rouletabille of the incident, and then when she came out he followed her almost involuntarily to the hotel in which she had an appointment with the journalist. Jean realized that this woman held so great a sway over his friend’s mind that he could never convince him of her double-dealing. She would infallibly find some excuse which Rouletabille, in his infatuation, would end by accepting.

  Jean made up his mind, therefore, to strike a decisive blow and without letting Rouletabille know to save him in spite of himself.

  He was aware that Monsieur Crousillat, who was a bachelor, was accustomed to dine in a small inn, which bore a reputation for the manner in which it served certain special dishes.

  He found the examining magistrate about to begin his meal and little inclined to give ear to a case which had brought him nothing but annoyance. His ill-humour was increased by the fact that the police-spy sent down by the Criminal Investigation Department had effected nothing; and when young de Santierne told him that he had a serious communication to make to him, he would willingly have sent him to the devil.

  “Let me at least finish my dinner, my good fellow,” he grunted. “What with you and Rouletabille I haven’t a moment to myself.”

  “You will be able to dine later, monsieur,” returned Jean, “for I believe that what I have to tell you will not brook delay.”

  And he revealed to the examining magistrate without further ado the story of the ties which bound Roulet
abille to a certain Madame de Meyrens, who was a friend of Callista’s. This was enough to suspend for the time being Monsieur Crousillat’s formidable appetite.

  “This Madame de Meyrens, who is well-known in certain circles by the name of the Octopus, is our worst enemy in this affair and humbugs Rouletabille himself, clever as he is.”

  Monsieur Crousillat blinked his eyes in a manner which seemed to suggest that he agreed with Jean’s not unwelcome idea that Rouletabille could be deceived like any other man. But his satisfaction, pardonable in a man not devoid of self-conceit — a sentiment which as a rule is highly-developed in examining magistrates — soon gave way entirely to professional considerations when Jean still further explained matters.

  “Rouletabille caused Callista to be arrested. I’m certain that nothing would suit Madame de Meyrens better than to bring about her escape. I saw her not long ago go into the prison and she stayed there a couple of hours.”

  “Good heavens,” gasped Monsieur Crousillat, throwing down his napkin, “and we put her in this Callista’s very cell! Wait for me here, young man. I’ll run over to the prison and be back presently.” So saying the ponderous Monsieur Crousillat took himself off with an agility which no one would have expected from him.

  Jean waited much longer than the examining magistrate had led him to expect, and as he felt hungry and was pretty well satisfied with himself for having taken the initiative, he ended by eating Monsieur Crousillat’s dinner. The latter appeared about an hour later. He dropped into a seat with a deep sigh.

  “Well?” inquired Jean.

  “Well, young man, I was none too soon,” he made reply, mopping his streaming forehead.

  “I was right, wasn’t I?”

  “Were you right?... Oh, my friend, just fancy.

  But where’s my dinner?”

  “I have eaten it, monsieur.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Was it pretty good?”

  “First rate. I hope you will allow me to offer you another.”

  “Not at all. It’s for me to pay to-night. I am greatly indebted to you. You can pride yourself on getting us out of a serious difficulty. What do you suppose we found in those two ruffians’ cells? Files and bricklayers’ clothing. The whole thing was prepared in advance — there’s no doubt about that. Callista was filing through the bars of her cage when we took her by surprise. She fought like a wild cat. She refused to give up her file. She was like a woman possessed. After threatening the warders with it she tried to use it on herself.”

  “Poor girl!” said Jean under his breath.

  “What’s that?... Now you’re pitying her.”

  “She was my friend, as you are well aware. Allow me to feel sorry for her, though when I had to choose between her and my future wife, I did not hesitate. We must keep a tight hold on her. She is sure to let her secret out in the long run. What do you say?”

  “I say nothing and I have no wish to say anything. It’s no longer any business of mine.”

  “What do you mean? What about Madame de Meyrens, who tried to effect their escape? What are you going to do?”

  “Personally, nothing at all. She has too many friends in high places, and the matter now rests with the prison governor, who will act.”

  “What will he do?”

  “Write a report.”

  “Good morning, monsieur,” said Jean, rising from the table.

  Jean at once returned to the Hôtel du Forum, where he would have liked to encounter Rouletabille. But neither Rouletabille nor the Octopus were to be seen. They occupied adjoining rooms, while Jean’s room was on the floor above.

  He threw himself, dressed as he was, on the bed, and was called at daybreak. Thus early he began to keep a look-out from his window on persons entering or leaving the hotel. At seven o’clock he observed Madame de Meyrens leave the hotel and cross the square. He followed in her footsteps.

  Madame de Meyrens was wearing a dust-cloak over her costume and a small toque which Jean had not seen the night before. From all appearances she was about to start on a journey by motor-car, and he was in no way surprised to see her enter a garage. She was evidently expected, for the man in charge placed himself at her disposal.

  A few minutes later she came out of the garage driving a small racing car, which started at a slow pace down the narrow streets. Jean had no difficulty in keeping up with her. The car picked its way not only carefully but silently and did not sound its hooter. Madame de Meyrens steered for the part of the town in which the prison stood.

  When she came within a hundred yards of it, she pulled up at the corner of the street. Jean then saw her “slip the gear into neutral position,” consult her wrist-watch, and then stand up and alight from the car with an air of unconcern which was not devoid of a certain charm.

  He foresaw that an event of some importance was about to happen, and, taking a roundabout way, went down a back lane leading to the prison.

  On the way he met Monsieur Bartholasse, who was proceeding to the Law Courts, and asked him to inform Monsieur Crousillat that Madame de Meyrens was near the prison with a motor-car and that her movements seemed in the highest degree suspicious. Monsieur Bartholasse answered with a disagreeable smile that his chief had left for a day’s fishing in the country and that he, a simple clerk, could not take upon himself the risk of disturbing an examining magistrate when he was engaged in so serious a pursuit.

  Thereupon Jean determined to interview the governor of the prison. He was told at the record office that the governor had gone for a day’s fishing with Monsieur Crousillat. They had set out at an early hour and were not expected back until the evening. These interviews and movements occupied some time and it was now eight o’clock. When Jean left the prison the first thing that met his eyes was the figure of Madame de Meyrens disappearing round the corner of the street in which she had left her car. From where she stood, she seemed to have been keeping watch on the prison. Whom was she waiting for?

  Jean reached this point in his reflections when he was forced to swerve aside to avoid a truck of builders’ rubbish which came out of the archway, dragged by a workman in front and pushed by another behind. The figure of Madame de Meyrens came into view once more at the far end of the street and she seemed to expect the truck to pass her.

  Jean clearly saw her speak to the workman, who answered her without stopping. Then the truck turned down the street and Madame de Meyrens followed it.

  When she was out of sight, Jean rushed back to the prison and asked to see the official who was deputizing for the governor in his absence.

  “Tell him that it has to do with very serious matters.”

  He was convinced that all that he had seen was connected with the preparation for Andréa and Callista’s escape, and he was by no means sure that Monsieur Crousillat and the governor had done their utmost, before they departed on their little fishing expedition, to avoid such a contingency. In view of their discovery the night before they had, to his mind, shown great carelessness in starting off for a day’s amusement and leaving behind them Madame de Meyrens free to act as she pleased, for doubtless she had more than one trick up her sleeve.

  A quarter of an hour later he left the prison and hastened to the Hôtel du Forum, where he asked to see Rouletabille. The latter soon appeared, looking somewhat annoyed.

  “Hullo, there you are. Who told you I was here?”

  “I met Madame de Meyrens last night on her way to this hotel, and as you didn’t come back to Lavardens I...”

  “Quite right, I understand.... Anything fresh?”

  “Let’s leave the hotel.”

  “As you please. But you go first and I’ll follow later.

  “No, come with me now. Madame de Meyrens left the hotel this morning. Can you tell me if she has returned?”

  “Yes, just this moment.”

  Well, I want to talk to you before you see her again. What I have to say is very serious.”

  “As usual.”

  “No, much mor
e serious than usual.”

  Though Rouletabille affected to attach no importance to what he called “Jean’s fancies,” he was somewhat interested and accompanied him to the square. Jean made him hug the hotel in such a way that they could not be seen from the windows.

  “What an excess of caution!” said Rouletabille, shrugging his shoulders.

  “You’ll understand me presently.”

  Jean took him to the café in which the night before he had eaten Monsieur Crousillat’s dinner. They were alone at the back of the room and Jean kept silence until the waiter had brought the horse-shoe rolls and coffee which he ordered. Rouletabille began to display an ever-increasing impatience.

  “I will first tell you, old man, what your Madame de Meyrens did last night.”

  “So this is why you are making so much fuss,” said Rouletabille with a start. “Why, I myself can tell you what she did last night. She called at the prison and asked to see the governor.”

  “What then?”

  “Then she presented a letter containing an official authorization from police-headquarters to visit, as an anthropologist, the prisons in the Rhone valley.”

  “Did she tell you so?”

  “There was no need to tell me so, seeing that it was I who sent her and gave her the letter.”

  “In that case I don’t know what your object was, but you are certainly unaware of the fact that as soon as she saw the governor, in the presence of the examining magistrate and his clerk, she disclosed the trick which you suggested to her. She told them that she was no anthropologist, but sent down by the detective service to ‘ pump’ the prisoners. You appear to be unaware that she was admitted to Callista’s cell and left behind a file and a bricklayer’s overalls.”

  “Anything else?” asked Rouletabille, fixing him with a curious expression.