Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  ‘Oh, yes, yes, certainly... that doesn’t worry me.’

  ‘Well, what is it then?’

  ‘It must be read?’

  ‘Naturally it’s much too long to learn by heart.’

  ‘It’s just that that’s worrying me so much, Monsieur Secretary Perpetual... because I don’t know how to read.’

  Chapter 8. Eliphas de la Nox

  PATARD JUMPED AS though he had been lashed across the legs.

  ‘It can’t be true!’ he cried.

  He thought Lalouette was having his little joke. But not at all. Lalouette dropped his eyes and his expression was almost pathetic.

  ‘No, I can’t read, not at all,’ he said, looking more and more like a scolded child. ‘I’m not joking. It’s the truth.’

  As Patard saw by his look that he meant what he said, he shivered from head to foot. ‘A candidate for the Academy who doesn’t know how to read!’

  He sank into a chair and sighed, ‘Am I losing my reason?’

  A deep silence fell.

  It was Lalouette who spoke first.

  ‘I would have kept this from you as I do from everybody else, but you, as Perpetual Secretary, you will receive my mail, you will surely have occasion to communicate with me in writing. I knew you would discover my secret... why don’t you say something?... is it my speech that’s worrying you?... that’s simple: you can write one that won’t be too long, and I can learn it by heart.... I’ll do anything you want me to... only please say something....’

  But Patard was too overcome for speech. He couldn’t get hold of himself. He had been through many strange things during the last few months, but nothing to compare with this blow... a candidate for the Academy who didn’t know how to read!

  ‘Good Heaven, this is terrible! Amazing! A candidate who can’t read! Everything else is all right... excepting... he can’t read... my God!... this is awful!’

  Furious, he turned to Lalouette.

  ‘How in the world does it happen that you don’t know how to read? It isn’t possible!’

  A very serious expression came into Lalouette’s eyes as he answered:

  ‘It’s because I never went to school. When I was six years old my father made me work like a slave in his store. He said he’d made a success in life without any schooling and he didn’t see why I needed any. He was a dealer in antiques and he made me learn his business. I didn’t know one letter from another but even when I was ten you couldn’t fool me on the signature of a painting. That’s the reason that even though I can’t read a word I can appraise works of art so well that even the Prince de Condé defers to my judgment.’

  That last phrase made its intended impression on Patard. He got up, paced up and down the room. Lalouette looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly he turned on Lalouette in a fury.

  ‘Why did you tell me this?’ he demanded. ‘You didn’t have to tell me.’

  ‘I thought it was the honest thing to do.’

  ‘Oh fiddlesticks!... I would have found it out of course, but afterward... and then it wouldn’t be so important. Listen... let’s make believe you’ve said nothing about it. Will you? For my part, I don’t know anything. I’m a little hard of hearing and I didn’t hear anything about it.’

  ‘It’s just as you say. I’ve said nothing to you, Monsieur Perpetual Secretary, and you’ve heard nothing.’

  Patard breathed easier.

  ‘It’s certainly hard to believe. To see you and to hear you, one would never suspect it,’ and he drew another sigh of relief.

  ‘And you certainly talk like a very learned man.... I can tell you now, Monsieur Lalouette, we weren’t very much impressed when we came into your shop, but later you certainly overwhelmed us completely by your knowledge... and now I find out that you can’t even read!’

  ‘I thought, Monsieur Secretary Perpetual, that you had just decided to know nothing about it.’

  ‘Ah, yes, true, excuse me, but I shall remember it all my life... a member of the Academy who can’t read!’

  ‘Still,’ said Lalouette, smiling, ‘in this world one must get used to many things. And, if to be an Academy member, one has to be learned, I certainly showed those gentlemen that I have as much learning as they have.’

  ‘You certainly did. Where did you learn so much about what you were telling us?’

  ‘In the Larousse Dictionary, Monsieur Secretary Perpetual.’

  ‘In the Larousse Dictionary?’

  ‘Yes, Larousse... illustrated.’

  ‘Why the illustrated edition?’

  ‘Because of the pictures. Not knowing the significance of those little things you call letters, the pictures help one a great deal.’

  ‘And who helped you to learn Larousse by heart?’

  ‘The Missus, Madame Lalouette herself. When I first decided to present myself as a candidate for the Academy, that very day we decided on that course.’

  ‘From that point of view, it would have been better to memorize the dictionary of the French Academy.’

  ‘I did think about that,’ Lalouette agreed with a smile, ‘but you would have recognized the wording.’

  ‘True,’ said Patard, made thoughtful by that last remark. How intelligent this man was, how foresighted, how courageous! There were plenty of Academy members — he knew them well — who could read, it is true, but who weren’t worth Lalouette’s little finger.

  ‘I’m still only on the A’s,’ the latter interrupted him, ‘but I’ll be finished with them soon.’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes... yes... I see.’

  Patard rose, he opened the street door and took a deep breath. Next he looked up and down the street, at the passers-by, the houses, the sky, Sacré Coeur, and its cross outlined naked against the sky. By an association of ideas he thought how many people were bearing their crosses without complaining. The situation couldn’t possibly be more terrible for a Perpetual Secretary. He made a brave resolution. He went back to the man who couldn’t read. He took his hand. ‘We shall meet again, very soon, my dear colleague,’ he said.

  He went out on the sidewalk, absent-mindedly opening his umbrella. He was all worn out and dragged one foot after the other.

  Hardly had the door closed after him when Madame Lalouette came running in, breathless.

  ‘Well, Gaspard?’ she begged.

  ‘It’s all right. He called me “dear colleague” and said we’d “see each other soon.’”

  ‘And... he knows everything?’

  ‘Everything.’

  ‘That’s the best way. Now, if some day anybody finds out anything there’ll be nothing surprising about it. You will have done your duty. He’s the one who will have failed in his.’

  Beaming with joy, they kissed each other.

  ‘How do you do, Mr Academy Member!’ said Madame Lalouette in the first flush of her pride.

  ‘It’s all for you, my dear,’ answered her husband.

  And this was the truth; he was doing all this for her. She, who had married him because he had written books, was an author, had never been able to forgive him for having hidden from her that he could not read. When at last he admitted it there were some harrowing scenes in that home. Then she tried to teach him to read. It was a waste of time. The alphabet went along smoothly enough, but he couldn’t put syllables together - b a, ba; b i, bi; b o, bo; b u, bu — he had begun too late; he simply couldn’t get them into his head. That was a pity, for Monsieur Lalouette was an artist and he loved beautiful things. Madame Lalouette took to her bed, declaring she would not agree to get well until the day Lalouette should be chosen officer of the Academy. The day he won that title she began to love him a little more.

  But even though the years had passed and he tried to be interested more than anything else in literature, there was always this terrible secret poisoning the marital bliss of the pair — Monsieur Lalouette, recognized as an author, didn’t know how to read!

  This was the situation when the mysterious deaths so upset th
e Academy and the public. By the merest chance, Lalouette had been present when Maxime d’Aulnay died. Lalouette was neither superstitious nor stupid. He saw nothing supernatural about the death of a man who had heart trouble and who must have been unstrung by the tragic death of his predecessor. Why every one should get so wrought up he couldn’t understand and all that nonsense about a sorcerer who had disappeared made him smile. Nor could he understand all the haunted chair hubbub in connection with d’Abbeville’s seat. Finally Lalouette said to himself, ‘It may be strange, but I haven’t the least fear about that chair! My, but it would surprise Eulalie!’ Calling Madame Lalouette by her pet name.

  He didn’t tell his spouse what he had in mind, but he was surprised when he learned that Martin Latouche, quite naturally, agreed to election to the so-called fatal chair. He wanted to be present at Latouche’s installation. What he was thinking nobody knew. Was there, deep in his heart, the hope (unexpressed of course) that Destiny — always whimsical - was about to turn another trick? Who can say, without being unjust? At all events, Lalouette was present when old Babette, dishevelled and wild, rushed in to announce her master’s death.

  However much self-control we may be born with, there are some things that affect us deeply. From the moment that Lalouette escaped from all that roaring mob he began to take a vital interest in the mysterious Eliphas. Where had he come from? He asked every one he thought might know about him, including members of the Pneumatic Club. He went to see Raymond de la Beyssière; he found out about the Secret of Toth. He asked permission to examine the hand-organ. Finally, he took the train for La Varenne-St Hilaire, and if he came back a little undone by his reception there, he was thoroughly persuaded of the foolishness of all those Egyptian beliefs. The moment had now come for him to talk over his plans with Eulalie. At first she was taken aback, but she had a strong will and she wanted him to carry out his idea; only he must proceed cautiously. That man Eliphas de la Nox - they must either find him or get some definite information as to his whereabouts.

  Several months passed and then Lalouette became impatient. Learning that Eliphas called himself also Borigo du Carei, because he came from the valley of the Carei, Lalouette went there. In a little house sheltered by olive trees, he found the old mother of the famous magician. Quite innocently and frankly she said that her son, tired of Paris and the Parisians, had spent several months there with her and then had gone to Canada. She produced letters he had written her — letters which left no room for doubt that Eliphas was not interested in the least in d’Abbeville’s chair.

  Triumphant, Lalouette went back to Paris and sent the letter announcing his candidacy for that chair.

  The incident had only one serious drawback - that was that Monsieur Gaspard Lalouette, candidate for membership in the French Academy, didn’t know how to read. Aware of the fact that many people who knew how to read did not present themselves for membership, Monsieur and Madame Lalouette decided to put the whole matter up to the Perpetual Secretary. We’ve already seen how lightly he passed it over as being a mere detail.

  And now the Lalouette family were very happy. They kissed each other, to show their joy, and over a fine supper could speak of nothing else.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said Madame Lalouette, her eyes radiant with joy, ‘tomorrow your name will be in all the papers; it will be on every tongue; you will be a famous man.’

  ‘And thanks to whom, little girl? To you, my dear, best and most intelligent of women — and fearless, too. You have always bolstered me up, encouraged me at every step, done everything to urge me on.’

  ‘And now we’ve nothing to worry about. We can put our minds at ease, now that we know that terrible Eliphas is well out of the way in the wilds of Canada.’

  ‘Madame Lalouette, I’m free to confess that after the third death, in spite of everything that queer old Lonstalot told me, I had to be more fully assured concerning Eliphas. If I had had any fear, for instance, that he was roaming around in the vicinity of Paris, I would have thought twice before proposing my name to the Academy. No matter how much of a wizard he may be, he is first a man, and so can commit murder like any one else.’

  ‘And even better than any one else,’ declared the good Madame Lalouette, a little smile, as reassuring as it was sceptical, playing over her lips, ‘especially if he can control the past, present and future, and the cardinal points of the compass.’

  ‘And if he knows the secret of Toth,’ added Lalouette laughing loudly and rubbing his hands together in glee. ‘But why must folks be so stupid, Madame Lalouette?’

  ‘It’s all the better for the others, Monsieur Lalouette.’

  ‘I, for instance, the moment I saw his photographs in the papers, I said to myself, “The man that looks like that never killed any one.”’

  ‘Yes, he has a handsome, distinguished-looking face, and very gentle eyes.’

  ‘With perhaps just a touch of something cynical in them, Madame Lalouette... just a faint something.’

  ‘Perhaps so, I’ll not deny it... when he finds out that he’s killed three men he’ll laugh.’

  ‘But who in the world would tell him, Madame Lalouette?’

  ‘His mother’s the only one he writes to, the only one who knows his address. No one knows that she exists, not even the police. She knows nothing of what happened in Paris, and I certainly did not take the trouble to tell her. Anyway, he’s lost to the world... way off in the wilds of Canada.’

  Madame Lalouette re-echoed, ‘In the wilds, deep in the wilds of Canada.’

  In their joy they clasped each other’s hands. All of a sudden, as they were smiling at each other and repeating. ‘In the wilds of Canada,’ they felt each other’s hands grow cold.

  Their eyes had fallen on a face outside the window, on the sidewalk, looking into their shop — a face —

  A face, a handsome and distinguished-looking head, and soft, expressive eyes... they both recognized that face... they couldn’t be mistaken... they shrieked at the same moment.

  It was Eliphas! Eliphas himself! Eliphas de St Elmo de Taillebourg de la Nox!

  He stood on the sidewalk as motionless as a statue.... He was perfectly dressed; he carried a cane in his hand, and a tan topcoat folded over one arm.

  Monsieur and Madame Lalouette felt their knees give way beneath them. They could hardly stand up. Suddenly the man moved. He came forward with a slow step toward the door of the shop.

  The door opened — he came in.

  Madame Lalouette dropped limp in an armchair. Lalouette fell on his knees and cried:

  ‘Pity, I beseech you, have pity!’

  That was all he was able to say.

  ‘Does Monsieur Gaspard Lalouette live here?’ the man asked, not in the least surprised at the effect his entrance had produced.

  ‘No, no, he doesn’t live here!’ Lalouette answered, still on his knees, and his lie sounded so sincere that he almost believed it himself.

  The man smiled a cool little smile and with the greatest poise closed the door after him.

  ‘Come now, Monsieur Lalouette, get up off your knees... pull yourself together and present me to Madame Lalouette.... Good Lord, man, I’m not going to eat you.’

  Madame Lalouette gave him a quick desperate look. For a second the hope flashed through her mind that it might have been a resemblance — a horrible resemblance - that had deceived both her husband and herself. So, making a valiant effort to control her terror, she succeeded in saying in a bleating tone of voice:

  ‘Sir, I beg you to excuse us. You’re the perfect image of one of our relatives who died last year... alike as two peas....’

  She shook with fear; she could say no more.

  ‘I quite forgot to introduce myself,’ said the man, steadily and calmly. ‘My name is Eliphas de Saint Elmo de Taillebourg de la Nox.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ cried the two Lalouettes, and they shut their eyes tight.

  ‘I understand that Monsieur Lalouette is a candidate for Monsieur d’Abbevil
le’s chair.’

  The couple started.

  ‘That’s not true,’ whimpered Lalouette. ‘Who told you that?’ But in his terror-stricken soul he said to himself, ‘He really is a wizard. He knows everything!’

  The man, quite unmoved by these denials, kept right on.

  ‘I came to congratulate you personally.’

  ‘It wasn’t worth while putting yourself out,’ said Lalouette. ‘Some one has been lying to you.’

  The stranger looked around the room very carefully.

  ‘But still I wouldn’t be sorry to have a few words with Monsieur Hippolyte Patard... where is Monsieur Patard?’

  Lalouette rose, livid with fear.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, Eulalie, my dear’ — trembling, he wiped the perspiration from his forehead— ‘we’re going to have it out with this gentleman.... Monsieur Hippolyte Patard, did you say? Never heard of him.’

  ‘Then they misinformed me at the Academy.’

  ‘Yes, yes, they certainly did... you’re quite mistaken... they would have been pleased to have me present myself... to apply for one of their chairs... to make one of their speeches... and whatever else... but I don’t want anything like that... nothing doing... I’m an art dealer, I am.... I earn an honest living, I do.... I’m just what you see, Monsieur Eliphas. I don’t ask anything of anybody.’

  ‘Not anybody,’ Madame Lalouette backed him up.

  ‘And I am certainly not going to begin at this stage... that chair is for you, Sire Eliphas... you’re the only one worthy to have it... take it, sir; I want nothing to do with it.’

  ‘I don’t either,’ said Eliphas in his most unconcerned answer. ‘You may have it if it would make you happy.’

  Husband and wife looked at each other, then at the visitor. He looked as though he meant what he said. He was smiling... but possibly he was laughing at them.

  ‘Are you really serious?’ Madame Lalouette asked him.

  ‘I usually mean what I say,’ he answered.

  Lalouette gave a start.

  ‘We thought you were in Canada, sir,’ he said, regaining a little self-control. ‘Your mother—’