“If I were rich enough” said the doctor, “I should buy the Villa on the Cliff, assuming that the Marquis would be willing to sell it. In the meantime, dear, if you don’t mind we’ll take our leave and return to “The Fronds.” I am expecting some letters.”
“Madame” said Cecily. “We shall be very pleased to see you whenever you care to come to the Villa on the Cliff.”
At the moment of departure Cecily and the doctor exchanged a few words about the Dowager Marchioness’s health, leaving the Countess and Chéri-Bibi alone for an instant. She bent forward and whispered quickly in his ear:
“I want to see if you are the Chéri-Bibi of old or an imitation Marquis. Little Buddha has the will. It’s in an old mahogany writing table on the first floor in the restaurant in the harbour. Take the will first and kill the Kanaka afterwards... and then we’ll have a talk.”
Cecily came towards her with outstretched hand.
“We shall meet again soon I hope, dear Madame.”
“We shall meet again soon Marchioness.”
CHAPTER XI
CHÉRI-BIBI SETS TO WORK AGAIN
IT WAS A stormy night, a night on which as the saying goes, no one would turn a dog out of the house. The wind and rain were tempestuous; the sea broke upon the rocky coast with resounding violence. On the storm-swept cliff darkness had fallen like a pall. Not even the outlines of the houses were visible ten paces away in the dense obscurity. No lights shone.
The church clock in the little valley struck two. The wind blowing from the sea seemed to gather increasing fury from moment to moment, and its sinister voice howled like the messenger of an inexorable catastrophe. Alas for the seafarers who had not returned to harbour, and the luckless landsmen driven from their homes by their occupations or their misery, and flung into the heart of the storm.
But was there a being so abandoned of God and man that he must needs remain in the open on such a night? Nature less rigorous than man offers a refuge against the fury of the elements to the most wretched. There are cavities, crevices, curves in the rock in which men can find shelter even as there are lairs and dens to which animals may retreat.
So what were those two shadows doing in the torrential rain and the icy blast, those two shadows bending under the weight of the storm, and creeping forward amidst the impenetrable darkness? What object — darker perhaps than the night itself — was before them? What was their destination? What force was urging them forward?
Fatalitas.
It was fate which was guiding those two suspicious shadows, the inevitable fate by which crime breeds crime, and never lets go of the man whom it has once marked down with its blood-red hand; and it was fate, perhaps, which had determined to envelope in the storm the two beings whom it had doomed to tragic deeds.
“Fatalitas!” muttered Chéri-Bibi, clutching the Dodger as he nearly slipped on the wet ground. “What a night my dear old Dodger.”
“Why complain monsieur le Marquis? It’s much better to have this sort of weather for the job we’ve got to do than a moonlight night.”
“I’m wet to the skin, and it’s a certainty that I shall catch a fine cold.”
“The Marchioness will look after you.”
“Dear Cecily! She thinks I’m asleep in a nice warm bed.”
“That’s as it should be” returned the Dodger in a tone of philosophy. “We couldn’t have asked her to come with us.”
“Oh! say, if it goes on like this we shall have to creep along on all fours.”
“All the better. We shan’t risk running up against Costaud.”
“I’m surprised to see you in such good spirits, Dodger.”
“That’s because I said to myself that we’ve got to go through a rough time, but afterwards we shall feel safe again.”
“Let’s stop a moment under cover of the semaphore.”
“It’ll be a mistake if we do.”
“I’m out of breath.”
“We’ve got over worse nights than this.”
“Exactly, but I’ve lost the knack of it... Wait a bit... Besides you’re not going to tell me that it isn’t a good thing to get one’s breath back again. In truth you are wonderful. Doesn’t it worry you to have to set to work again?”
“Perhaps more than it does you monsieur le Marquis, because I haven’t so much to lose. But my devotion to you impels me to endeavour to keep you from losing courage. I am still only a poor devil, but I realise the effort that a man like you must make to put on an old castoff coat, to dress up in patched-up rags and to wear that dirty cap.
“You’re right Dodger. When I looked at myself in the glass before I slipped out of the window, I admit that a shudder passed through me. I frightened even myself. And then when I recognised myself under it all, I couldn’t help shedding tears. The fact is Dodger that I’ve got out of the way of doing it. And then I really thought that all that sort of work was a thing of the past.”
“Oh please, monsieur le Marquis, this is not the moment to give way to weakness. You must show the stuff you’re made of.”
“I will show it. But let me tell you that I’m ashamed to be out of doors in such weather as this and dressed like a dock labourer. If Cecily were to see me now.”
“Of course we don’t look ladies men! I admit myself that if Virginie saw me, her affianced husband, in this rig-out it’s very likely we shouldn’t go to the altar...
“Have you got all the tools?”
“Yes, in the bag.”
“The keys? The picklocks? The jemmy and the dark lantern? Where did you get the jemmy?”
“I stole it... of course. It’s I who was the first, as you see, to begin work again. Well, I would never have believed that it was so hard to appropriate other people’s property when once, as you say yourself, we’ve got out of the way of doing it. I trembled all over and felt like nothing on earth... I ran away like a child.”
“That shows your naturally good disposition.”
“Yes, but listen to me. We mustn’t be too childish either. If you are weaker than I am we shan’t do good business. That’s why I carried it high and tried to buck you up just now.”
“That’s true. We’ve got to get it over and done with. Come, lets be off.”
They sallied forth once more in the rain and storm and murky darkness.
“The best of it now is” gasped the Dodger attempting to be consolatory, “that the wind is in our favour, for it’s behind us and is blowing us towards the restaurant in the harbour.”
They soon caught sight of the first street lamps on the hill and rapidly made their way down to Dieppe. They crossed the bridge and the wharves without encountering a living soul. The Customs House officers were buried inside their wooden huts.
They halted for a moment a couple of steps from the fish market and took a long look at Little Buddha’s windows.
It was a house of two storeys and stood at the corner of the quay. No fight penetrated through the shutters on the ground floor; nor was there the faintest glimmer from the first and second floors. The place seemed to sleep like the houses in the vicinity. They went down a narrow street and quickly reached the Square in which loomed the sombre mass of Duquesne’s statue.
They leant against the pedestal and their forms became merged in the shadow of the great sailor; and they stood scanning for a few minutes the surroundings before entering upon their adventure, availing themselves of the respite to put the finishing touches to their plan of operations.
One entrance to the restaurant was in the small courtyard of an old building the front part of which overlooked the Square. The entrance to this courtyard was through a large oak door embossed with iron bars and nails, and in this door was fitted a smaller one of which the Dodger held the key.
Virginie had given him the key at the time when that comely daughter of the Caux country was a waitress at the restaurant and lived under its roof. Consequently the Dodger knew the way. He could not refrain from observing:
“Monsieur
le Marquis, you have on more than one occasion reproached me for my love affairs which you considered unworthy of the position that I held under you, but don’t you think to-night that we were, in some way, being assisted by Providence which made me fall in love with a girl whom I could only visit in a particular way, the knowledge of which is of great use to us now?”
“Not so many words, Dodger, let’s be up and doing. And be careful to drop calling me marquis in this business. My name must not be mentioned. I told you so before. Don’t let me have to repeat it.”
“Very good monsieur le Marquis.”
“There you are again!”
“Would you rather I called you Chéri-Bibi?”
“Don’t call me anything at all, unless you want to feel the weight of my boot... Tell me, are you sure that there’s only one room on the first floor?”
“Yes, and the article of furniture in question stands in that room. The room was used as an office by the governor, and sometimes as a private room by sundry customers who didn’t want to mix with the crowd below.”
“You say it is impossible to get in by the servants’ door which opens on to the courtyard?”
“Impossible, because it is fastened by an iron bar which is padlocked, and the woman cook who keeps the key is in the habit of sleeping quite near it. We must get direct to the first floor through the window in the courtyard, by using the ladder.”
“Is the ladder there?”
“Yes monsieur le Mar... It has always been there. It won’t take long I repeat. Little Buddha sleeps on the second floor just as the old proprietor used to do. I made sure of that only yesterday by carefully getting the cook to chatter when I met her doing her shopping.”
“So there’s no danger?”
“I believe I can assure you there’s none at all, monsieur le Mar...”
The sentence did not end without a slight exclamation from Hilaire, who received a sudden kick from the Marquis. He had already been warned, and it would teach him to be less polite.
“Can the people living in the house in the courtyard hear us?” asked Chéri-Bibi roughly.
“Well, we must go to work as discreetly as if we were keeping an appointment in a love affair. They have never disturbed me” returned the secretary, rubbing the spot where the Marquis’s kick had been planted.
“Now I must tell you, Dodger, that nothing would induce me to let myself be discovered. Not for the world would I place a certain individual whom you know in a false position. If anyone turns up here it will be a bad look out for him.”
“I see mons... I see. Oh we’re up against a stiff proposition... Yes it’ll be rather hard lines on that particular person.”
“We shall have to settle him in a trice, and you’ll exert yourself as much as I do, won’t you?”
“In a trice, monsieur le... in a trice! If it must be so we won’t hesitate. But I hope we shan’t be driven to such terrible extremities.”
“I hope so, at least as much as you do” returned Chéri-Bibi with a sigh. “What’s the time?”
“About a quarter to three.”
“We must finish the entire job in half an hour because we’ve got to be at “The Fronds,” as arranged with the Countess before the Kanaka has the time to make a fresh will. But in that quarter the affair will soon be finished. We have a friend at court.”
“It’s a great pity, monsieur, that we couldn’t begin work an hour earlier.
“You told me yourself that Little Buddha didn’t go to bed until very late.”
“That’s true, but I dread getting back to the Villa on the Cliff in the early morning. Dressed as we are we can’t avoid attracting the attention of chance wayfarers if we meet any.”
“I know a little path through the hedges which will get us out of that difficulty” returned Chéri-Bibi, who seemed to have thought of everything. “Come, are you ready? Hand me the diamond. Look after your dark lantern and let’s get on with it.”
“Heaven be with us!” sighed the Dodger.
He all but made the sign of the cross he had become like his master so orthodox.
A couple of minutes later the two shadows had opened the door and were in the yard. The Dodger found the ladder in the cellar, and placed it with the greatest care against the wall so that the top rung rested on the window-sill of the room on the first floor.
Chéri-Bibi mounted first.
The Dodger followed carrying the bag of tools.
Chéri-Bibi began his work in silence. With his glazier’s diamond he neatly cut out the glass, caught it smartly and passed it to the Dodger. Then he slipped his hand in, and turned the latch of the window and opened it.
The two men lost no time in entering the room. They were wearing bathing sandals for the occasion.
“Oh!” exclaimed Chéri-Bibi in a low voice seating himself in an easy chair for his heart was throbbing more wildly than he would have dared to confess to his assistant, and he wanted to pull himself together. “Oh, here we are! All the same I’m not so rusty as I thought I should be.”
The Dodger had switched on his dark lantern and he threw its beam on one corner of the room. Their eyes fell on the mahogany writing table.
It was an old piece of furniture and did not look very formidable. Chéri-Bibi rose and with a certain distaste, searched the bag in which the Dodger had collected the necessary housebreaking tools, and advanced to the table with a somewhat varied assortment of keys, master keys, picklocks and levers.
They managed to pick one of the two locks but the other withstood every attempt to force it.
Moreover, truth to tell, they were all of a tremble. The least noise caused by their implements, compelled them to stop for several minutes while they listened, the perspiration breaking out on their foreheads, to discover whether they had been heard or had given the alarm.
The position became still worse when they had to use the jemmy. The table creaked, and they came to a stand in their work, holding their breath, their limbs shaking under them.
At one moment they thought that they heard in the distance a deep, painful gasp. They stood stock still dismayed.
“It’s someone yawning on the next floor” suggested the Dodger.
“Then someone is awake” said Chéri-Bibi.
“Well, let’s get on with it, we’ve no time to lose.”
Nevertheless they did lose time for a violent effort was needed to break the catch of the lock, and they were afraid to make it because of the inevitable noise.
“Oh, I’m not so expert as I used to be” groaned Chéri-Bibi wiping the perspiration which rolled down his cheeks. “In the old days I’d have done it in no time.”
“And then we haven’t got the pluck either” confessed the Dodger.
“No, we haven’t got the pluck either. A mere miserable piece of furniture like that. I would never have believed that I was such a muff,” muttered Chéri-Bibi.
“Come, monsieur, show a little more courage. Remember that we’re working for your wife and son.”
The Dodger’s dignified reminder of the duty which the Marquis du Touchais owed to his family was not lost upon him. Chéri-Bibi drew himself up as if he had received an electric shock; and he set to work again filled with a deceptive and momentary energy. He pressed with all his might on the jemmy and this time the lock gave way.
The top part of the desk fell back upon Chéri-Bibi, and the Dodger was barely in time to catch it in his outstretched hands. Nevertheless there was a considerable crash, and the wood groaned loudly, and almost at once there came an answering human groan from above.
“Good Lord, what’s happening” said the Dodger.
“We snap our fingers at it. Come hurry up with the lantern.”
To search the desk for the will, seize it, and to get clear off would now be a question only of seconds. Chéri-Bibi already longed to be outside. The Dodger with the fight from his lantern ransacked every nook and corner of the table, opened the drawers, began to lose patience, but could find
nothing, absolutely nothing; the desk was completely empty. There was no paper of any sort in it.
Stay, there was one paper, a paper which he at length discovered, fastened by drawing pins to the back of the desk like a show-card. On this card was some writing, a sentence which a flash of light revealed word for word, and which made Chéri-Bibi and the Dodger start back uttering fearful oaths.
The sentence which they saw and which was written in large characters, emphasised by ironical notes of exclamation was:
LITTLE BUDDHA PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS
TO MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS DU TOUCHAIS!!!
CHAPTER XII
BATTLE
THE TWO FRIENDS clasped hands in a gesture in which was concentrated their utter despair.
“We’re in for it” growled Chéri-Bibi.
He dragged himself to the window, followed by the Dodger who had extinguished the lantern. The ladder was no longer there. And in the courtyard into which they might have jumped at the risk of breaking their necks, they distinguished two forms, muffled up in great coats, keeping watch.
They drew back into the room and felt their way along the walls to the window that gave on to the harbour. It was an iron barred window like the windows in most of those ancient buildings. They were caught like rats in a trap.
“The baggage!” exclaimed Chéri-Bibi cast down.
The expression was certainly applied to the Countess who had succeeded in leading him into a snare from which there was no escape. She had humbugged and played with him as if he were a green horn. At least, he thought so.
Nevertheless Chéri-Bibi’s fury was not so great as his fear. How was he to get out of the place? It behoved him above all to avoid a scandal. He would have to fight the scoundrels whose prey he feared to become, without giving the alarm to respectable people. He moved carefully in the small room and in a choking voice said:
“We’re in a nice mess, we’re in a nice mess.”
“Yes, monsieur le Marquis, we’re in a nice mess” groaned Hilaire who agreed with his master more than ever now. and undoubtedly owed the fact that he was not called to order as severely as before to the gravity of the position.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 177
