Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  “Poor woman!” said Chéri-Bibi.

  “God rest her soul” said the Kanaka. “ I really think that she did me a service without suspecting it. First of all, thanks to her, you have relieved me of a quartette who began to embarrass me, and afterwards the event gave me pause. What could I do with all your millions? I leave you your millions, monsieur le Marquis.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Yes, so that they might multiply in your hands. You shall be, as one might say, my agent. Does that suit you?”

  “Go on.”

  “You’re pulling a face. Don’t you understand then that you are my thing, my property, my world? That I brought about a new life of you in order that you might work for me? Be sensible and I will be sensible... I will leave you enough to live on. The remainder, the amount of which I will fix for myself, you will pay over to me at regular intervals in the usual way. And if I am satisfied with you, I’ll make you a little extra present on Michaelmas day. Does that suit you?”

  “It’s very nice of you” returned Chéri-Bibi in icy tones, “But I prefer to tell you at once that it does not suit me.”

  “I’m very sorry, my boy, because I’ve no other proposal to make to you.”

  “You think you’re very clever, Kanaka.”

  “Clever enough to feel positive that you’ll think it over, and we shall be the best friends in the world.”

  “No... You see, Kanaka, there’s one too many of us in this world.”

  “I don’t agree with you. Each of us complements the other.”

  “Don’t you know that I’ve sworn to avenge the Countess?”

  “Childish babble! If you lay a hand upon me I know someone who will take my will to the public prosecutor.”

  “No he won’t.”

  “Oh nonsense.”

  “Maître Régime won’t take your will to the public prosecutor.”

  The Kanaka, when he heard the name, could not help betraying his excitement.

  “To begin with, you don’t know whether Maître Régime has my will or not.”

  “Yes, he told me so. And he won’t use it because he hasn’t got it now.”

  “What’s that?” cried the other, turning pale.

  “I tell you that I’ve got your will.”

  Chéri-Bibi had no sooner uttered these words than the Kanaka gave a muffled exclamation, fearing the worst for his own life, and though Chéri-Bibi still kept his hands behind his back, and he knew that he was unarmed, he felt in his pocket for his revolver. But he was too late, for with a startling gesture Chéri-Bibi wrested from behind his back the deadly knife, held in place by gold wire under the portrait of the murdered Marquis du Touchais, and plunged it into the Kanaka’s breast, and he fell in his death agony.

  “That’s one for me” snarled Chéri-Bibi.

  The Kanaka’s death rattle was soon over for the second blow cut his throat.

  “And that’s one for the Countess...”

  Chéri-Bibi stared for a second at the Kanaka’s lifeless body. Then he fled like a man bereft of his senses, for the thought of the dead now terrified him.

  CHAPTER XV

  ROSE DECIDES TO SPEAK

  AFTER HIS LAST crime Chéri-Bibi was conscious of a great feeling of tranquility. Not only was the Kanaka’s death unlikely to cause remorse to any honest man, but with his disappearance Chéri-Bibi’s fear lest his secret should be known was gone for ever. A period of perfect happiness followed in the Villa on the Cliff. To the two friends it was like paradise regained.

  M. Costaud was the only person in the whole drama whom it was painful to see. He was still endeavouring to discover Chéri-Bibi, to whom he attributed every crime committed in the country. To begin with, there was no doubt, in his mind, that the notorious convict’ had murdered, with his own hand and knife, Dr. Walter, whose dead body was discovered in the drawing-room of the Château du Touchais. Moreover every trace of Chéri-Bibi gleaned by the worthy M. Costaud, led either to the Château or to the Villa on the Cliff, which was ample proof that Chéri-Bibi had not relinquished his plan of capturing the Marquis. Accordingly M. Costaud kept guard over the Marquis with greater zeal than ever, but with the gloomy despair of a detective who is weary of pursuing a shadow which always eludes him.

  At length the Countess’s head was picked up and the identification of this fresh victim placed another murder to Chéri-Bibi’s account.

  Such a series of horrors sent a shudder through the Caux country, but did not disturb the digestion either of the Marquis or of Hilaire, his devoted secretary. As a matter of fact, Chéri-Bibi and the Dodger had only to allow life to take its course, and to enjoy thenceforward a well-earned peace. Chéri-Bibi’s love for Cecily increased, while the Dodger married Virginie and both men allowed themselves to be molly-coddled and made much of, conscious that they had omitted nothing to achieve that summit of happiness from which they had nearly slipped at a moment when they believed that it was within their reach.

  They lived, it may be said, in clover. Chéri-Bibi was putting on girth. Cecily in whose eyes the Marquis had always been a handsome man threatened him smilingly not to love him any more unless he kept an eye on himself. So he bound himself down to certain exercises which delighted the youthful Jacques. He went on all fours and with the boy on his back pranced about the garden paths. He was indulging in what he called Swedish drill. And as though to put the finishing touch to his happiness the Dowager Marchioness died.

  Chéri-Bibi betrayed unspeakable delight when he was alone with the Dodger, notwithstanding that his secretary did not fail to reproach him with the impropriety of such sacrilegious demonstrations of satisfaction. But Chéri-Bibi had no love for his “mother.”

  And yet she had scarcely troubled him during her life and it may be said without anticipating the course of events, that her death in no way added to his good fortune.

  On the day of the funeral all Dieppe walked behind the hearse, and came to offer their condolences to the Marquis who on the Dodger’s suggestion assumed an air of great grief. But what was his amazement suddenly to perceive de Pont-Marie approaching him with a suitable expression on his face and outstretched hand.

  “My dear Maxime” said de Pont-Marie shamelessly “there are times when old friends meet again, and it is their duty to forget everything that has come between them and remember only what brings them together.”

  The Marquis stood as though petrified by such amazing assurance while de Pont-Marie grasped him by the hand and shook it with every sign of boundless devotion; and observing that Chéri-Bibi was more than ever dumbfounded, and made no effort to withstand him, de Pont-Marie bent over his ear as if he were about to kiss him — as is the custom in moments of great sorrow — and sinking his voice said:

  “Hand me over a hundred thousand francs and you shall never see me again.”

  So saying he did not wait for an answer but plunged into the crowd loudly lamenting the blow which had befallen the house of du Touchais.

  Chéri-Bibi, leaning on the Dodger for support, followed him with his eyes.

  So he had come back again! He had dared to come back. He was no longer prowling in the dark round Cecily; but had come forth in the light of day to brave and insult him and to endeavour to extort hush-money from him. Such was de Pont-Marie, the man in the grey hat, the man whom he had recognised on the cliff... the murderer of the Marquis, his father.

  Suddenly Chéri-Bibi clutched the Dodger’s arm.

  “Look” he cried, “Look I tell you.”

  The Dodger followed the direction of his master’s exasperated gaze, and he saw the Vicomte de Pont-Marie go towards Rose, who, all in tears, and supported by Sister St. Mary of the Angels, presented a sorrowful figure in her heavy mourning. De Pont-Marie stopped and held out his hand to Rose who uttered a shrill cry and threw herself back into the nun’s arms. The Vicomte, amazed at such an unexpected attack of nerves, said in a loud voice:

  “Poor thing! She’s going out of her mind.”

&nb
sp; And he left her. A number of persons bustled about her.

  When the funeral ceremony was over Chéri-Bibi motioned the Dodger to step into his car and they drove away.

  “Well, you saw that for yourself” he said. “You saw him go up to Rose, and you saw what happened. You heard Rose cry out. Rose knows everything. And de Pont-Marie is the murderer.”

  “Well, monsieur, it’s no business of ours.”

  “What’s that! No business of ours. Do you want me to quarrel with you for saying such a thing. Have you forgotten all that the wretch made the Marchioness suffer? Do you suppose that I’m going to forget it and be magnanimous enough to forgive him for all the misery of my past life and the punishment which I suffered in his place?”

  “You ought to remember, for that matter, that if you hadn’t undergone that misery you wouldn’t have attained your present happiness.”

  “Perhaps you think I ought to be thankful to him for it?”

  “Why not monsieur?”

  “Shut up! You talk like a rotter. What! Here’s a man who tried to take my wife away from me and murdered my father, and you want me to leave him alone. Hang it all, if I listened to you I should say thank you to him and give him what he wants into the bargain.”

  “What does he want, monsieur?”

  “A hundred thousand francs so that I shall hear no more of him.”

  “Well, give him the money. Give him the money right away.”

  “Are you dreaming?”

  “No, monsieur, I’m wide awake and in full possession of my senses, and I say to you: Give this man the hundred thousand francs that he’s asking for, and don’t let us trouble about anything but our own happiness. We have escaped from so many shady transactions with honour, that I should be infinitely sorry to see you drawn into this new business. No one dreams any more of revenging the death of the old Marquis du Touchais. And it is anything but certain, after all, that de Pont-Marie is his murderer. To whitewash Chéri-Bibi is beyond human power. Bet us, I entreat you, be happy in our home life.”

  “You’ve no pluck, Dodger. No, my boy, you’ve no pluck. You prefer the fleshpots of Egypt. Very well, I shall set to work on my own. You can get out of the car.”

  “No, monsieur.”

  “You won’t get out?”

  “No, monsieur. I am convinced that you are wrong” said the Dodger, changing his mind under his master’s threatening gesture, “but I’m willing to do anything you wish.”

  “Ah, and not a moment too soon! Well, my boy, Rose must be made to speak out, I feel certain that she has only to say one word, and we shall get rid of de Font-Marie much easier than by giving him a hundred thousand francs. He will be always wanting a hundred thousand francs. Listen to me. You must go and see Sister St. Mary of the Angels.”

  “On your behalf?”

  “No. I don’t want to appear in the thing at all.”

  “That’ll be safer” said the Dodger.

  ‘T don’t want to appear in it because I have no wish for anyone to think that the blow which falls on de Pont-Marie is the result of any vindictive act on my part. People know that trouble has arisen between him and me and my wife, and I don’t want Cecily, any more than myself, to be mixed up in it. He will be accused of the murder because Rose will declare that he is guilty of it. It’s very simple.”

  “What must I say to Sister St. Mary of the Angels?”

  “You will tell her that there are certain people — no need to mention names — who are sorry for her, and not less grieved to see the stir which is made about these last crimes as though they were the work of Chéri-Bibi; that they, like herself, are convinced that her brother is really dead and had no hand in those atrocities, but is as innocent of them as he was of the murder of the old Marquis. You can tell Sister St. Mary that they know of Rose’s confession to her about Chéri-Bibi’s innocence, and they consider that the time is come for Rose to reveal the truth. They understand clearly that she has delayed for so long naming the guilty man because he was a close friend of the family and in particular of Maxime’s. But now things have changed and she has nothing to fear from a living soul; she will be backed up in her work of justice; and she must not delay if she wishes to prevent the wretch from committing other crimes. In short, you will give her to understand that the persons who are interested in Rose saw her faint at the Dowager Marchioness’s funeral when de Pont-Marie went up to her, and they understood the cause of her agitation.”

  “Is that all? asked the Dodger, with a look of great uneasiness.

  “That’s all. You see there is nothing complicated about it. Only you must find out what Rose intends to do, and what reply she makes to Sister St. Mary of the Angels.”

  “Very good, monsieur. When shall I see Sister St. Mary?”

  “At once. Go and seek her out now. You must strike while the iron is hot. Cadol will put me down at the Villa and drive you back to Dieppe. You can then call at the hospital and ask to see the nun.”

  Chéri-Bibi rejoined Cecily who was feeling the strain of the long nights passed at the bedside of the old Marchioness, and had been ordered by the doctor not to attend the funeral. She threw her arms round the Marquis’s neck as soon as he came in. Whenever he was away from her, she was on tenterhooks for, according to Detective Inspector Costaud, Chéri-Bibi was continuing his crimes and was the murderer of the worthy Dr. Walter.

  “Do you know who came and shook hands with me at the cemetery? The intolerable de Pont-Marie.”

  “What cheek!” she exclaimed.

  “Yes, what cheek; and do you know what he wants from me so that we shan’t hear of him again? One hundred thousand francs.”

  “Give him the money” she returned without hesitation.

  “Hullo” thought Chéri-Bibi, “she says the same thing as the Dodger.”

  “Give him the money twice over. Don’t let’s see him again. He’ll bring us bad luck.”

  “I’ll consider the matter” said Chéri-Bibi wrapped in thought.

  An hour later the Dodger came in with the best of news.

  “You were right, monsieur le Marquis” he said, when they were alone in the study. “You did well to refuse to give de Pont-Marie the hundred thousand francs. It’s all up with him. Rose has decided to speak.”

  “Is that a fact” cried Chéri-Bibi, whose eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction so great was his detestation of de Pont-Marie.

  “Oh there was no need to make a long speech about it. Sister St. Mary of the Angels was at first very uncomfortable when I opened up the subject, and then seeing that I was so well informed she said: ‘Tell the people who sent you to me that they can rejoice as much as I do. Rose will speak within the next fortnight.’ She confided to me that poor Rose was very excited as a result of what she saw at the cemetery; and de Pont-Marie’s audacity in coming to shake hands with her had greatly unnerved her. ‘The villain’ she said when she came to herself, ‘will be punished for his crime.’”

  “Did she say that?”

  “Sister St. Mary repeated her words to me. The brave little sister was beside herself with joy. It was a pleasure to see her. She looked quite young again. ‘At last we shall see the justice of God. Poor Chéri-Bibi’ she said.”

  “Did she say ‘Poor Chéri-Bibi’?”

  “Yes, and as she said it she cried.”

  “She’s a good girl.”

  “I slipped away because I myself felt moved to tears.’

  “Didn’t you ask if Rose had any proofs?”

  “Oh yes, monsieur. We must take it that there are proofs. She spoke to me in ambiguous terms of a pocket book.”

  “You don’t say so! De Pont-Marie is nicely done.”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, let’s dance a jig.”

  Chéri-Bibi caught hold of the Dodger and they danced together, so true it is that man, in his ignorance of all things, and in particular of the fate that lurks ahead of him, will weep over events which pave the way to his happiness and bl
indly rejoice over those which lead to hi? destruction.

  During the following days, while they were waiting for Rose to speak, Chéri-Bibi made preparations for a short journey. They intended to pass the winter in the South, far from the scene of old troubles which would be forgotten by the Spring. While the family were away great alterations would be made at the Château du Touchais which was to be rebuilt in a manner worthy of the famous mansion’s new fortune. In fact next season they would leave the Villa on the Cliff for the Château. The work of alteration was already in progress in the roofs and roofing which greatly needed repair. Workmen were busy scraping off the old paint from the rooms on the second floor which were to be entirely redecorated. The Marquis du Touchais in his eagerness to put the rebuilding in hand remained at the Château with the builder.

  Truth to tell he deliberately sought in this activity an artificial channel for his thoughts, a distraction from his restlessness. Would Rose at last make up her mind? What was she waiting for?

  De Pont-Marie still remained at Dieppe in full expectation of receiving the hundred thousand francs, and Chéri-Bibi who had to enter into correspondence with him, let matters drag on so that he could not go away. Nevertheless he feared lest de Pont-Marie would lose patience. Accordingly he sent the Dodger from time to time to Sister St. Mary of the Angels who made answer:

  “The day is at hand, the day is at hand.”

  Meanwhile Detective Inspector Costaud had become convinced that Chéri-Bibi had once more left the district, and he gave notice of his impending departure, with his men, for Paris.

  Costaud had displayed so much devotion to the Marquis’s interests that he did not wish to let him go away without giving him some special mark of his favour. In spite of his recent mourning he invited him to dinner. Cecily who was not less grateful to Costaud seconded her husband, and as their old friend Maître Régime had returned to Dieppe on the Marquis’s business, she invited him as well. It was to be a farewell dinner without any sort of formality about it.