Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  “What revenge?... What punishment?... What have I to fear? Who has been wronged? What crime have I committed to be received in this way, at the supper hour, in my mother’s house?”

  “Carolus,” said my dear mother with chattering teeth, “we know everything. Oh! he has told us everything... And we have lived upon it for hours here. The house is under observation. Kiss me and go away. I shall pray for you.”

  “Look here,” I exclaimed, recovering myself in my indignation, “who are you talking about? Who has a grudge against me? Who is watching this house?”

  “You ask me that!”

  “Of course. Personally I don’t understand a word of this silly talk. I have always acted everywhere in good faith while I’ve been about the world, and have never done any harm to anybody; neither here nor elsewhere. Besides, since the war I have kept a sharp look-out on myself, as was my duty. I am neutral.”

  “You are neutral, you are neutral,” groaned my poor mother in a hollow voice. “But your neutrality didn’t prevent you from kidnapping Admiral von Treischke’s wife!”

  “What’s that? What do you say?”

  “Oh, my poor boy. Don’t try to deny it... One can always tell the truth to one’s mother. A mother’s heart has treasures of indulgence even for the worst sins.” I was suffocating, suffocating.... Was it any wonder that my mother’s belief in my baseness, Gertrude’s dismay as she gazed upon a lost soul of my stamp, while making the sign of the cross, my own feeling that my courage had been unavailing... was it any wonder that these things suffocated me not only morally but physically?... I barely had time to tear off my cravat.

  In another moment I should have fallen to the ground.... And so this was what I was to learn on my return home! I was looked upon as having at Madeira, abducted the beautiful Amalia Edelman, the wife of Admiral von Treischke.

  “After all, mother,” I cried. “You know me. How could you believe me guilty of such a crime?”

  There was so much resolution in my protest, so much sincerity in my voice, that my mother opened her arms and I flung myself into them and wept.

  “Of all the misfortunes that have pursued me since I left,” I declared, “the greatest is certainly the one that was waiting for me at home.”

  It was now my mother’s turn to pour balm upon my wounded feelings, and Gertrude herself desired to make amends, but I repulsed her in no uncertain manner.

  “Who gave you such agreeable information about me?” I asked her.

  “Unfortunately,” replied my mother, for my roughness had reduced Gertrude to tears, “it was Admiral von Treischke himself. He came here and told us about it with any number of details and terrible threats. We have been treated, since then, as though we were prisoners. He is having us watched by two servants whom he forced upon us, and he does not permit any correspondence which has not previously been viséd by his special police, and all our letters are opened. It’s as much as he can do to believe that we are not in league with you in this perplexing business. But, of course, by a singular accident, you were at Madeira when his wife and children disappeared, and you disappeared at the same time, so you must have some idea of what became of them.”

  “Some idea! I should think I did have some idea of what became of them. I am accused of kidnapping Amalia, but I’ve been on the run all the time following her abductors. If I am here to-day it is to rescue her. You can tell Admiral von Treischke that much, from me, if you have the opportunity of seeing him.”

  I did not wait even to enjoy the effect produced by such a sensational declaration. I was convinced in my own mind that the disagreeable misunderstanding would be dispelled as soon as I met the Admiral. And I hoped that I had come to the end of my ill-fortune. Accordingly I gently released myself from my mother’s fond but tardy embrace, and turned my attention to the piping-hot soup which Gertrude had prepared. It was a famous leek soup, the smell of which had been titillating my palate for the last five minutes in spite of the new and tragic aspect which events seemed, for the moment, to bear.

  “Sit down, mother, I’m hungry, and let us have some of Gertrude’s soup as in the old days, and as if there were no war, or as if it were all over, and, above all, like people who have a clear conscience. And that’s always a consolation even in these times.”

  Having said which I got ready to taste my first spoonful after casting a glance over all the old things which surrounded me, the sideboard, the cabinet, the plates and embossed brass-ware which hung on the walls, and I was about to breathe a prayer of thankfulness to Providence for the care with which, after so many storms, I had been brought safely into harbour again, when I heard a voice say:

  “Excuse me, Monsieur, will you tell me what you have done with my wife?”

  I turned round and saw before me a person for whom I felt an instinctive antipathy. It was Admiral von Treischke, surnamed the Silent.

  * * * * *

  At this point Carolus Herbert’s papers are incomplete. Many of them have not yet reached the editor, and until the confessions, in their entirety, are in his possession the end of the story cannot be told in detail. From a general impression of the papers such as they are, however, it appears that Carolus Herbert was successful, although not at once, in his mission. He was able to save the lives of Frau von Treischke and her children, and even to win the gratitude of Captain Hyx himself. But, in the meantime, Carolus Herbert had to undergo, as a prisoner in Admiral von Treischke’s hands, many mortifying and extraordinary experiences in Belgium and Luxemburg, and his subsequent return to the Vengeance was followed by a series of adventures surpassing in mystery and sensation those which the editor has so far pieced together. It is a story that must be given to the public as soon as the materials are available.

  The Veiled Prisoner (1917)

  Translated by Hannaford Bennett, 1925

  Original French Title: ‘La bataille invisible’

  This novel, in the original French La Bataille Invisible: Aventures Effroyable de M Herbert de Renich, has been seen as a successor to the Jules Verne story of the Nemo submarine. The original French version was published in Paris by Pierre Lafitte. An English language version, translated by Hannaford Bennett, was published in London by Mills & Boon in 1923. The theme of underwater combat and treasure is taken from an unfinished Rouletabille novel and also draws inspiration from wartime events such as the sinking of the Lusitania in May, 1915.

  The First World War is raging and Herbert de Renich, a citizen of Luxembourg and therefore of neutral status in the war, is a guest on the German submarine Avenger. This is not his only connection with the German nation — his great love, Amalia, married a German naval officer, Admiral von Treischke, the commander of the submarine. Avenger is an extraordinary vessel, originally designed by a mysterious American (at this point, America has not joined the war). During the voyage, the submarine fires twice on a merchant ship, which is also carrying passengers, but this is not enough — the crew then seemingly delight in firing on the survivors. As women and children drown, the German officers applaud, toasting the attack with champagne and singing Deutschland uber Alles ‘with a ferocious delight…the superior officers were setting the most ignoble example of cynicism and sadism.’ Herbert is driven to rage and takes his own personal revenge in a tragic and violent manner, whilst at the same time a conflict plays out between two nations over some mysterious treasure in the bay of Vigo…

  This is something of a departure for Leroux, as it is a downbeat and even pessimistic story, dwelling on the darker side of human nature, both individually and on a national scale, with little hint at redemption. Much is made in the story of German wartime atrocities, partly as a justification for Herbert’s rejection of his neutrality. Justice is one of several themes in the story, but vengeance comes through as the strongest one — as to whether Leroux intended this or it was an accident of the plot, it is difficult to say. It is almost as if in some aspects of telling a tale of war, he is taking a populist route and using all the wel
l-worn words of the day to make his story accessible – one only has to look at vintage postcards designed at this time to see words such as ‘justice’, ‘peace’ and ‘friendship’ are used repeatedly in the designs of cards sold to soldiers and their families. Comments are also made in the story about the ephemeral nature of newspapers and the stories in them — Herbert talks to a Belgian doctor who points out that no matter how dreadful the crime, it stirs the emotions of the news reading public for only a few days before it is forgotten in favour of the next sensational story. There is no resolution to the events related in the story either — another departure for Leroux.

  Lusitania in 1907 — the sinking of the Cunard ocean liner RMS Lusitania occurred on Friday, 7 May 1915 during the First World War, as Germany waged submarine warfare against the United Kingdom which had implemented a naval blockade of Germany.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I

  CHAPTER II

  CHAPTER III

  CHAPTER IV

  CHAPTER V

  CHAPTER VI

  CHAPTER VII

  CHAPTER VIII

  CHAPTER IX

  CHAPTER X

  CHAPTER XI

  CHAPTER XII

  CHAPTER XIII

  CHAPTER XIV

  CHAPTER XV

  CHAPTER XVI

  CHAPTER XVII

  CHAPTER XVIII

  CHAPTER XIX

  CHAPTER XX

  CHAPTER XXI

  CHAPTER XXII

  CHAPTER XXIII

  CHAPTER XXIV

  CHAPTER XXV

  CHAPTER XXVI

  CHAPTER XXVII

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  CHAPTER XXIX

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER I

  ADMIRAL VON TREISCHKE

  I HAVE MET many unsympathetic persons in my life but not one to be compared with Admiral von Treischke. He was a square-headed man with close-cropped hair. Under his bushy eyebrows were two small, piercing, grey eyes always on the alert and full of malice. His thin lips were tightly closed; his face was deeply lined like trenches; and he had two hairy wens, one on his nose and the other on the left-hand corner of his chin.

  His moustache gave him the appearance sometimes of a tiger and sometimes of a seal. Often he came out of a wine-shop or a bar in a most comfortable condition; in other words, in the arms of his boon companions or of the accommodating gentlemen of the police; and then, on account of his drooping and dripping moustache, he rather resembled one of those mammiferous animals with oily skins who rise out of the briny ocean. In his hours of depression and dejection his hair became ruffled, but in a little while a fit of passion, or his habitual malevolence, got the upper hand again, and he was his old self in the ranks of the tigers. That a woman like Amalia should have married this man and borne him three beautiful children was one of the mysteries of the universe, Admiral Heinrich von Treischke appeared before me at the moment when I was about to begin my supper. I was obliged immediately to leave my soup and my mother, and to go with him to the next room.

  The incident did not pass without protests, tears and entreaties from my old mother and the maid Gertrude, who flung themselves upon him: “He is innocent, Admiral. Innocent of everything that you believed against him. It’s he who saved the gnaedige frau Admiral.” [See The Amasing ‘Adventures of Carolus Herbert, by Gaston Leroux. Translated by Hannaford Bennett (Mills and Boon).] And they uttered other phrases which were intended to dispel from the mind of my terrible interlocutor every evil thought about me; but they did not succeed in any degree in smoothing his brows or softening his manners.

  He slammed the door violently behind him, and although my conscience was clear, I must admit that I had a bad time of it, as the French say.

  “Where do you come from, Herbert of Renich? And what are you doing here? And how did you get here?” Such were the three questions which he threw at me as one throws a bone to a dog. I did not pick them up, and instead of replying directly to them I said with an apparent composure which astonished even myself:

  “I venture to ask, Admiral, if anyone saw you come here, to this town, and if anyone saw you enter this house. And I venture to advise you to keep your hiding-place secret from everyone for a few days.”

  “What hiding-place?” he cried, bursting out at me. “Must I handle you with kid gloves? Meine geduld ist zu ende. My patience is exhausted. Are you mad or are you deaf? Must I send schutzmanner, mounted policemen, to drag the truth out of you?”

  These words were followed by a few other curious amenities of manner and ferocious threats. He was certainly foaming with rage. I could see under his cheeks, puffed out with passion like the skin of an old drum, the gashes made by the rapier in his student days when he walked about the streets of Heidelberg with his big mastiff. And I had little doubt that if the faithful animal had been by his side that evening, he would have satisfied himself with a good morsel of the accursed Herbert of Renich. At last, he ended his paroxysm by these quite intelligible words:

  “You were at Madeira when Frau von Treischke disappeared, and you disappeared at the same time. If you do not tell me where she is within one minute from now, you are a dead man.” And he took out his revolver and banged it noisily on the table before him.

  “I’ve come here simply for the purpose of telling you,” I replied immediately, “and of saving her life and yours, Admiral.”

  And I went on without a break, for he happened to place his hand upon the weapon from which I could not take my eyes:

  “Frau von Treischke and her children were seized and carried off by pirates, and imprisoned on board a submarine in which there was already a goodly number of German officers. I myself barely escaped being the victim of these brigands whose only flag is the black flag, and who recognise no law but the most hideous and monstrous law of revenge.”

  He thereupon changed countenance. It seemed to me that what I said to him did not excite the shadow of a doubt. Was I to attribute so sudden a transformation to the accents of sincerity in which I uttered these words, or did the information which I brought to him correspond with certain suppositions which already obsessed his mind? It seemed to me to be a little of one and a little of the other. The fact remains that I heard a groan, a species of growl, and then:

  “What have you done with my wife and children?” he exclaimed, in a tone of despair that was a revelation to me, for I had always doubted whether so notorious a tiger had a heart.

  “I escaped from that inferno,” I replied, rejoicing at the turn which the conversation had taken, “in order to save them... them and all their fellow-prisoners from the martyrdom which is hanging over their heads.”

  “What must be done?” asked the Admiral, breathing heavily. “Are you sure that we shall be in time? Be very careful in your replies. Give me your opinion as a soldier.”

  “I am not a soldier,” I replied. “lama neutral and I’m giving you my word as an honest man. I know that I have been monstrously calumniated in my absence.”

  “That’s a secondary consideration,” roared the tiger. “Will you answer me, yes or no? What must be done?”

  “You must keep out of the way, because they’re only waiting to capture you to begin the horrible business.” And in a few deeply felt sentences I told him the story of my escape from the submarine in the auto-hydroaeroplane. I acquainted him in detail with the attempt which his enemies were making to carry him off, as they had already carried off the burgomasters of certain towns in northern Germany. As I preceded to relate what had happened, the tiger showed signs of increasing excitement.

  “Well, but, Monsieur, were you Captain Hyx’s prisoner?”

  “Do you know him?”

  “We doubted whether there was such a person,” he admitted in a low voice, “or rather some of us are still in doubt, and affect to believe that the whole thing is a myth invented to frighten children, notwithstanding that serious warnings and extraordinary letters have reached us from prisoners in a most mysterious man
ner. Personally, I must confess that your story does not surprise me overmuch,” He seemed to reflect for a few moments before saying any more, and then went on: “I may say that had I not been informed of your presence at Madeira, and of the coincidence of your disappearance at the time of Frau von Treischke’s disappearance, I should not have hesitated to make my enquiries in the direction of...”

  Here he pulled himself up again, and fixed me with so piercing a look that I felt extremely embarrassed and stammered:

  “Frau von Treischke is undoubtedly the most virtuous woman of my acquaintance.”

  “What about me?” he roared. “Do you think I know any woman more virtuous? Dumm.” The word practically means idiot, and it was an insult which for a moment stunned me. “Only nothing compelled us to believe,” he said, grinding his teeth, “that under the skin of a certain Herbert of Renich a young Lothario may not have been concealed, capable of the most ordinary rascality: abduct the mother and blackmail the wife through her children, and even blackmail that worthy man, Admiral von Treischke. What a delight and what a revenge for a charming young man who lost the woman he was about to marry while he was making a tour of the world! Ach, nothing is impossible to a lover.”

  “Monsieur,” I replied, “you insult me. “I will tell you nothing more, not another word, until you apologise to me.”

  When the Admiral heard these words, he seemed more astonished than if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet. He again laid his hand on his revolver, and I thought that he was going to shoot me point-blank, but it was to put the weapon back in his holster. He requested me to sit down, and, taking a chair facing me, said in a hollow voice which was free from irritation though not from a suspicion of contempt:

  “I believed that you were capable of many things detrimental to my honour. The dumm was I myself, for you are incapable of anything of the sort. All the same, I can see from what you tell me that there’s no particular cause for rejoicing.”